Skid Row Diary 26

15 September 2003    Monday   Day 65

   I got up at a reasonable hour, listening to Mark and Brian talk about the past weekend’s professional football games. They go on and on about sport at times. One would think they were listening to ESPN. 

   Usually their female listeners call in to complain about it, gently bringing them out of their sports trance, to continue on with the observations and comedy that we know and love so well.

   Not wanting to wait until their sanity returned (or some semblance of it), I turned off the radio and switched to T.V., to see what Giselle was up to.

   Her usual tricks. Pants again. 

   I don’t mind so much anymore. I realize that I am powerless over issues such as this and have come to terms with it.

   For a moment I thought there was a cute female guest host on today, and it took me a while to realize that the second half of the lady co-host contingent of Despierta America (there are 4 co-hosts, 2 female, and 2... uh, male) had grown out her hair very quickly over the weekend, and darkened it into a tarish brown, abandoning her usual short, pixy blonde bangs she had sported just last Friday (it’s good that I keep a record of these things). I thought of the possibility that she may have donned a wig, and immediately discounted that idea.

   Ana Maria Canseco was looking pretty hot today! Not only that, she was quite attractive as well. 

   I should say “particularly” attractive today, not wishing to imply she didn’t look hot on any other day.

   I had things to do, so left my Spanish speaking friends in Miami (fortunately Hurricane Isabel looks like it will bypass Florida altogether. It would become the costliest, deadliest, and strongest hurricane of this year’s Atlantic hurricane season), and left for the county’s mental health department on Maple.

   Anthony, my social worker, the person I had to see, was not in however.

   “Will he been in tomorrow?” I asked.

   “I hope so,” was my reply.

   Undaunted, I continued on to the One Stop Job Source Center. A computer was available, and I checked my E-mail (nothing), and updated some files and printed them.

   I had six voice mail messages, two from John at Priority Personnel requesting I call him back. Three from Mrs.  Mythleridge from the Appeals Board. She sounded a tad exasperated as she had been trying to get a hold of me for the last six days and my hearing was scheduled for this Wednesday. She said she had figured out something about my food stamps and needed to talk to me. I was perfectly willing to do this, but she wasn’t in the office when I called. I didn’t leave a message.

   I did get a hold of John at Priority, who said he had a call center position open for $13 an hour. We went over the qualifications and he said he would send them my resume.

   Before leaving I used the word processor to write a letter to John Manzano. It went almost exactly like this:

   “Dear John:

   I’ve always wanted to write a Dear John Letter. Now’s my chance.

   I received your calls on my voice mail, what, two weeks ago? Or actually that’s when I checked it. I think you called a week before that. I sent you an E-mail the day I got your messages, but haven’t gotten anything back from you (they have this thing in Camarillo, it’s just down the street, east of Vons. It’s called a library, and they have these things there that are called computers that they’ll let you use if you ask very nicely. You can check your E-mail on these things. Give it a try sometime). I’ve tried to call your house several times, despite the enormous cost, but either the circuits are busy (the operator keeps asking me to wait, “Please wait... please wait... please wait..., on and on. What a boring job, huh?), or no one answers (buy your poor mother an answering machine for God’s sake). So now I’m forced to use snail mail.

   Don’t worry about it. I’ve used it before.

   So you couldn’t take the pressure here, huh? Don’t be ashamed, many can’t. Even though I said I’d protect you. I guess you got too scared and had to leave, like a crying, simpering little baby. Maybe it’s for the best. 

   I hope everything is good with you and you’re working real hard to get your kids back, and have a good life with them.

   I’m doing alright. Gary is finally being terminated and will be moving to Seattle tomorrow morning. Unless he does something different he’s only going to wind up doing the same thing up there that he did down here, and he knows it. I’ll be leaving the Weingart soon myself. My nine months are up soon. I’ll probably get an apartment around here, like McCree has, and wind up in the CWT program, working at the VA hospital for a year. That’s the plan. And to keep writing and learning. And going to movies, of course. I saw ‘The Matchstick Men,’ and ‘Once Upon a Time in Mexico,’ last week.  

   Write, or E-mail to me to let me know what’s up. You have my voice mail number, but I don’t usually check it every day, and it won’t be working after I move out of the Weingart.

   I wish you well. Say hello to your mother for me.”

   Next I took a Dash to the VA Clinic and signed in at ASAP, but did not attend the 1:00 group meeting. No one was there. I couldn’t even leave a urine sample. And the guy in charge of CWT referral wasn’t around, so I left and walked to the DPSS office on 4th Pl.

   After going through the metal detector, and checking in, I took a seat in the lobby and began reading “2061, Odyssey 3.” I’d read it once before but had forgotten most of it. Dr Heywood Floyd was featured  again, this time at a sprightly 103 years old., and visiting Halley's Comet during a pass through the inner solar system. Apparently living in the reduced gravity of outer space prolongs one’s life. Who knew?

   It’s sad there we’re all trapped in this time, 348 years before death is cured, with the solar system colonized as to alleviate the over population of Earth. But what can you do?

   After a while I was called to report to Booth Number 9, where a middle aged Asian gentleman told me my case worker was not in today, and asked me what is was that I wanted. I had three items I wished to discuss, two of which he could not, or chose not to help me with. He did make an appointment for me to see one of their mental health representatives. And that appointment was immediate.

   Or almost. I read some more of the Clark book before being called to Window 3, where I met a Mr. Boyle. He led me to a small conference room and let me know he’d be asking me a few questions. I was given a NSA (Needs Special Assistance) evaluation. 

   Usually his clients are referred to him by the case workers, and he was somewhat surprised that I had actually requested this. I told him my sad story; not having worked since 2000. my estrangement from my sister, the depression and the meds, addiction difficulties, my living situation. He asked questions.

   He was very nice and thoughtful. He was concerned that I had no outward support system, family and such, that could help me if I needed. But alas, no, I do not. Just you, dear readers. You’re the only support I have.

   God bless you, and your families.

   He placed me in the NSA Program, for at least 4 or 5 months, which is exactly what I wanted. Now no time, or term limits would be placed on my GR food stamp claim, and instead of nine months out of the year, I would continue to receive benefits for twelve.

   When asked why I had requested the interview I was quite honest in telling him the practical considerations involved. There was no reason to lie.

   He gave me a nice form to take to mental health, to confirm I was being seen there, and that was that. We shook hands, and I left.

   After checking my mail (nothing) I returned to my room and began writing. Gary Porch came by. He had just gotten the money the Weingart had been holding for him, but was all in a tither about his next move. He had been at the VA clinic today, talking to the social workers there, and the suggestion of being transfered to The Haven, the drug and alcohol program at the hospital complex in Westwood was put to him. Either try that or move on to Seattle in the morning. He is court committed to an alcohol program, so the Haven was an opportunity to meet that requirement. If instead he went to Seattle, he would become a fugitive in California and might have a television show produced based on his exploits. 

   I don’t know what his final decision became, possibly neither. With all of that money in his pocket he may just binge out until it’s all gone. If I were him that’s what I’d do.

   We had dinner together, shook hands, and said our goodbyes.

   “I’d give you my P O address, but you won’t write, so I won’t,” I told him.

   “Give it to me anyway,” he said.

   I wish him well.

   Except for Charley downstairs I have no more friends here at the Weingart. Charlie will be leaving here soon too.

   But so will I.

   I continued reading and writing up in my room. I watched “The Simpsons,” and a new syndicated program on the Fox Fall schedule, “King of Queens,” starring the beautiful and talented Leah  Remini, and Jerry Stiller (father of Ben).

   Leah is a force of nature to be reckoned with.

   As chance would have it, I experienced a dream with her in it tonight. We were lying on the beach in the sunny Caribbean, her on my left, and Ana Maria Canseco on my right. They were each wearing identical bikinis, and large straw hats that protected their lovely faces from the harsh sun. We were drinking from frosty bottles of Corona, and making fun of everybody who wasn’t there doing exactly what we were doing.

   Everything was just wonderful until the girls started arguing about who I would apply suntan lotion on first.

   Silly girls. I had time for both of them. 

   In the end I had to flip a coin.

16 September    Tuesday    Day 66

   When I called Mrs. Mythleridge I got her answering machine again. I was running out of time on this, so I left a message asking her to please go ahead with whatever it was she had found, and that I had no intention of showing up for the hearing scheduled for tomorrow.

   When I was at 5th and Broadway to buy some cigs, I decided to try her again. She had just left a message on my voice mail letting me know that she had received my message, and that she had found something, and I would never find out what it was, that would stop the county in it’s efforts to collect the $403 in food stamps I allegedly owed, but she still needed me to call her to confirm that it was alright if she went ahead with her recommendations. 

   Hell yes! The best that I had hoped for was a reduction in the amount the county wanted to take back, and I had just about given up on that. But to get the entire overpayment dismissed, yeah, I could handle that. 

   I called her again, getting her answering machine... again, and left a message giving her permission to continue with the fine work she was doing, and thanked her.

   I returned to the Weingart very pleased with myself.

   I spent the day in quiet meditation and reflection, and of course wrote.

   I finished reading 2061, an adventure and rescue story really, which didn’t add a whole lot to the overall “saga.”

   I watched Spanish language soap operas, or novellas, on Univision. If I could have understood what the actors were saying I probably wouldn’t be able to stand watching them. On all the soap operas that I’ve ever seen, it seems like no one has anything at all better to do than get all up in other people’s business. And in the soap opera world, no one ever kicks back and watches T.V. Everything is always so damn URGENT!

   Why do I watch? Have you ever seen the ladies on Spanish speaking soap operas? 

   Enough said.

   Speaking of Spanish speaking ladies, I was happy to see that the lovely and talented Myrka Dellanos was back from vacation, or back from something, and had returned to her co-anchor desk on Primer Impacto, Univison’s afternoon news program. 

   I had missed her. She is without a doubt the most knowledgeable, concise, professional, and most experienced newsperson I’ve ever come across. 

   And I’d like her a lot more probably if I could understand what it was she was saying.

   But it really doesn’t matter.

   A lovely tribute to John Ritter was aired at 8:00, in the usual “8 Simple Rules,” time slot. His life story was told, with all (or most) of his friends present. I got a little misty when Katey Sagal kept crying. I was glad to hear that ABC was going to continue the show in a way that I thought would be the most viable and respectful. The family depicted on the show will suffer the death of it’s father, and Katey’s character will assume more responsibility for the maintenence of her daughters, in accordance with the show’s title.

   Perhaps Henry Winkler’s character will become more involved. He occasionally played John’s boss. 

   We shall see.

   I had the strangest dream in which I too was somehow on the set of the John Ritter tribute show, crying my eyes out, yet the show’s cast were not present. Myrka Dellanos and Gina Lynn, the lovely and talented star of “Kiss of the Black Widow, “ and “Diamond Dog,” and many other fine films, were though. The two pretty ladies were nice enough to console me, telling me everything will be alright... eventually, before changing into their respective space bikinis, on our way to the sunny and sandy Caribbean to suck down a few frosty Coronas.

   I had to flip another coin.

17 September    Wednesday    Day 67

   Not much to write about today. I’m in total relapse mode.

   I had hoped I’d hear something back about a job, but no messages were left.

   Mrs.  Mythleridge was the only one to leave something for me. She would send me a letter confirming the actions she would take, and wanted me to return it immediately with my signature.

   Everybody wants something from me.

   I wrote and read and meditated.

   I had an amazing dream involving Sarah Jane Hamilton, the beautiful and talented star of “The Face,” and Jessica Rabbit, the animated star of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” It was too sordid to go into any details, other than it involved an organ grinder, 37 pounds of roquefort cheese, 13 bags of un-popped microwave popcorn, bolt cutters, a drained Olympic sized swimming pool, 8 puffer fish, a meat lover’s pizza, a tow truck, 7 Himalayan yaks, a 2nd edition copy of “Paradise Lost,” 48 ball bearings, the Mona Lisa, and a trampoline.

   This is got to stop!

18 September    Thursday   Day 68

   As I got off of the bus during my daily jaunt downtown (no phone messages, no mail), I saw John Manzano hanging out in front of the Weingart. 

   “Did you get my letter?” I asked as we shook hands.

   “Yeah. Did you get mine?”

   “No. What are you doing down here?”

   He was here to pick up two bags of clothes he had left behind. A friend had given him a ride from Camarillo and was waiting for him down the street in a blue Chevy.

   He seemed to be doing well, living at his mom’s house. He may be getting an assembly job at Technicolor, but he wants to return to the downtown area.

   “Save twelve hundred maybe, then get back down here, get back on union jobs. I can’t stay in Cam. I get into too much trouble there.”

   He wanted me to call him. We shook hands and he took off. I went to lunch.

   Sesame Chicken.

   Up in my lonely room I wrote and finished the last book in Clark’s “Odyssey Saga,” “3001, the Final Odyssey.” Good old Frank Poole, the first astronaut that the Hal 9000 computer murdered back in 2001, was found floating out around Neptune and resurrected 1000 years after he had been killed, which was exceptionally fortuitous for him. He served as the books protagonist

   I must say I’m a bit disappointed in the way Dr. Clark played out this drama. Dave Bowman and Hal are reduced to circuits within a monolith’s memory bank, and no explanation is offered on how Poole was brought back to life, as if bringing back 1000 year old, brain dead, vacuum sealed, and cosmic ray riddled human beings is as common as a trip to Pluto. The monolith, and it’s governing intelligence, with out any discernable reason, turn malevolent towards the human race, of which it helped to create, and the speed of light limit is either used or disregarded at the author’s convenience. All of these things, and a few others, have made this book the least satisfactory of Clark’s I’ve ever read.

   I did enjoy Chapter 19, “The Madness of Mankind,” wherein the character Dr. Theodore Khan, likened sincere belief in religion to insanity, or mental impairment. He hedges this rather harsh idea in the “Valediction,” at the books end, by saying:

   “Finally, I would like to assure my many Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Jewish, and Muslim friends that I am sincerely happy that the religion that chance has given to you has contributed to your peace of mind (and often, as Western medical science now reluctantly admits, to your physical well being).

   Perhaps it’s better to be un-sane and happy, than sane and un-happy. But it is best of all to be sane and happy.”

   Some time around 10:00 Hurricane Isabel rolled into the Carolinas, with winds averaging 105 miles per hour.  Virginia reported the most deaths and damage from the hurricane. About 64% of the damage and 68% of the deaths occurred in North Carolina and Virginia. Roughly six million people were left without electric service. The fictional town of Mayberry, N.C. was totally inundated. Damage totaled approximately 5.7 billion dollars American. The hurricane affected  the Lesser Antilles, Puerto Rico, Greater Antilles, Turks and Caicos Islands, Bahamas, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, South Carolina, West Virginia, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Washington, D.C., and Ontario, which is in Canada. 16 deaths in seven U.S. states were directly related to Isabel, with 35 deaths in six states and one Canadian province indirectly related to her. 

   Hurricane Isabel is a good reason to live in California where all we experience are massive earthquakes once in a while, which makes life here interesting.

   I noticed in the television guide that “Star Trek, Voyager,” is no longer featured at 3:00a.m. on UPN. I thought to myself, “How shall I retaliate.”

   I began reading Peter Straub’s “Floating Dragon,” his farewell to the horror genre (excluding the two  Talisman books he wrote with Stephen King). I’ve read this novel before as well, but didn’t remember it clearly. Perhaps I had been inebriated at the time of my reading it, who knows?

   I do remember one anachronism found again, referring to William Goldman’s “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Straub mistakenly placed Butch and Sundance in Bolivia at the time they blew up the safe on the train. In fact, the two had not yet left the U.S. at that time.

   But so what? My supply of useless knowledge is inexhaustible. 

   When I eventually went to sleep I dreamt that Melissa George visited me here in my room, which wasn’t so lonely for a change. The beautiful and talented star of “Dark City,” was dressed only in a cloak of chain mail that came to mid-thigh.

   “Rick... Rick, wake up.”

   She woke me up in my dream by gently shaking my dream shoulder. I looked up and she smiled down upon me. 

   “Hi Melissa. What’s up?”

   “I came to tell you that a special visitor will come to see you tomorrow night. It’s time you two should meet.”

   “A visitor? Who?”

   “You’ll find out,” she assured. “I can’t say much more, and I want to go. This thing you have me wearing is cold.”

   “How do I know this is real?” I asked. “You could be nothing but a bit of sour mustard, or a bad pop tart.” 

   “You know it’s real,” she exclaimed. “Anyway, you’re out of pop tarts.”

   “Well since you’re here, could you rub my back for me? It’s kind of sore.”

   “I have to go now,” she said, ignoring me, speaking in her soft Australian accent. “Good luck.”

   “Okay. say hello to your cousin for me.”

   “I will.” She kissed me on my cheek, got up and left through my door. I could hear her garment jingle as she made her way to the elevators.

   Then I dreamed that I went back to sleep.

Skid Row Diary 25

Month 3

10 September  2003    Wednesday    Day 60

   “Zen teaches us to do good, even when we are alone.” -Thich Thien-an

   I met Elliot Jordan on the bus today.

   We had both lived on the fifth floor at the Harbor Light Center (run by the Salvation Army) last year. About ten years older than myself, a mild, gentle, black gentleman who’s prone to make meandering speeches that seem to make sense only to himself. He had left that facility before I had, entered the Weingart and lived where I’m living now, leaving just before I got there. He had graduated from Truck Driving School, and was now looking for a job in that profession. We did not talk extensively, and I did not find out where he was currently living.

   I went to the library to use their computers to check my Email and print some pictures of Imogen Stubbs (what a wonderful name! If I ever have a little girl I’ll call her Stubby!) and Constance Zimmer, who have both had the misfortune of attracting my attention, and who will be used mercilessly to further the goals of this bizarre project. 

   Sorry ladies. I apologize for any and all future indignities.

   I missed my bus stop because I was spaced out thinking about Salma Hayek, and had to walk two extra blocks to One Stop. 

   Well it’s happened before and it will happen again. Besides, I needed the exercise.

   I wanted to check my voice mail expecting messages from both Mr. Porter and Ms. Tiran, but received nothing.

   I skipped lunch. I’m not all that crazy about wafer thin pork chops.

   Some folks are.

   I began reading another Koontz book, “Night Chills,” hoping I hadn’t read it before. 

   I had.

   “Night Chills,” was the first of his two “mind control” books, the only two that I’m aware of at least. This one featuring subliminal advertising and drugs, the second, “False Memory,” involved hypnotism and drugs. 

   It always come down to drugs, doesn’t it?

   This subject seems to intrigue or frighten Dean (who suffers from a prominent libertarian streak), as it most likely should. 

   Millions of minds have been controlled in the past, and even now, without having to use drugs, but by utilizing fear and an inherent reluctance for those who are controlled or influenced, to think for themselves, which is kind of hypnosis I guess, often resulting in senseless violence and carnage, and twice in world wars.

   I watched the season premier of “Star Trek: Enterprise,” which thankfully keeps slugging along, despite the high production costs, and less than stellar (a pun!) ratings.

   This is it’s third season. The show boasts the character Commander T'Pol, who is the kind of Vulcan you’d want to have around. Portrayed by the beautiful and talented Jolene Blalock, she has done a wonderful job in what some would say is an easy role, a non-emotive alien, but I know different. I imagine the part is exceptionally challenging and somewhat restrictive. But I have to say T’Pol is the sexiest Vulcan I’ve ever seen. Both her, and Seven of Nine from “Star Trek: Voyager,” wear such form fitting uniforms that they might as well not be wearing any at all (“Apparently they don't wear bras and underwear in space.” -Jeri Ryan, who played Seven of Nine). However, that’s nothing new for Star Trek. From it’s inception back in 1966, the show has used scantily clad ladies to further it’s interests. Ultra mini-skirts were the uniform of the day in Capt. Kirk’s time (and in the first episode of “Star Trek the Next Generation,” “Encounter at Farpoint,” with  Counselor Deanna Troi, (played by the lovely and talented Marina Sirtis. After that episode it was pants all of the time... damn it!)., and he couldn’t keep his hands off of those frisky humanoid space babes even when they were green (or especially if they were green).

   But last week T’Pol, due to some virus, almost raped the ship’s doctor, and tonight was giving and receiving topless massages. 

   It’s rather unsettling actually, like watching Mr. Spock put the moves on Lieutenant Uhura. My, my.

   I also watched the series premier of “Jake 2.0,” the story of a geeky computer expert who works for the C.I.A., and who accidentally gets infected by something that gives him superpowers. Boy, now that’s an original idea. 

   When I retired I dreamt I was the Engineering Officer of the first star fleet ship, “Enterprise,” and had been summoned to the first officer’s quarters.

   “Get naked,” Commander T’Pol told me upon entering. “That’s an order. We want to relieve your obvious tension.”

   I looked across the small room and observed the actress Vanessa Branch, the lovely and talented  English American actress, model and spokesperson for Orbit Gum, sitting on the bed, waiting expectantly.

   “Okay,” I said while complying.

   “Fabulous!” Vanessa exclaimed.

   “Now lie down," the Commander commanded, but now without the Vulcan make up and uniform, dressed as Jolene in her space bikini. “You’ve heard of acupuncture?” she asked. 

   “Acupuncture?” I asked weakly.

   “Yes, an ancient Chinese practice. You’re going to love it.”

   Vanessa held up a four inch needle. 

   “No matter what!”

11   September     Thursday   day 61

   Gary Porch was in the shower when I came in at about 9:00a.m. He was just finishing up.

   “You ready for the meeting?” I asked him.

   “Almost.”

   We had been left messages via our key boxes downstairs from Labren that “Everybody must attend,” the Super Search Meeting the next day at 10. The meeting that Richard Carns had proclaimed was not mandatory for Weingart vets, which now only required that everyone be there.

   Gary and I were the first to get there, and took seats in the back of the room. Gary kept muttering things to himself, apparently resentful that his parents had asked him to find a new place to live after five months of staying on their 40 foot boat, rent free, six years ago. He’s endlessly fascinated with his own story, whether anyone’s looking at him, or indicating in any way that they are listening to what he is saying.

   Richard came in at 10, or so with job developer Larry. About eight other guys had shown, and Richard shook everyone’s hand. He said he wanted to broaden the scope of the meeting to include motivation. 

   Unfortunately he spent about half of the meeting catering to the emotional needs of an older black/Chinese (self proclaimed) gentleman, a Mr. Lewis, who evidently believes the universe revolves around him, and didn’t mind at all monopolizing the meeting’s time and resources, relentlessly crying about his problems, and how the world has changed and left him behind.

   The world was wise in doing that.

   I see this kind of behavior in meetings all of the time. There at the Super Search meeting, at ASAP, at The Salvation Army, sometimes in A.A. (although they are usually intolerant of grandstanders there).

   I am always surprised when the facilitators of these group meetings buy in to the massive BS from these guys and forget they’re managing a “group meeting,” not a “one on one” with loudmouths.

   Mr. Lewis, 56 years old, was particularly obnoxious, billing himself as a super aggressive, martial arts warrior, making vague promises of violence directed at those who do not share his point of view, saying things like, “He was damn lucky I didn’t break his back.” On and on. It’s pathetic actually. 

   Yes, as I’ve said, it was unfortunate that Richard allowed him to carry on. I didn’t get much out of the meeting after that. 

   Anna Lindh, the Minister for Foreign Affairs in Sweden, was stabbed yesterday while shopping for clothes in a department store in central Stockholm. At the time she was not being protected by bodyguards of the Swedish Security Service. Why? I don’t know why? It’s freaking Sweden, for Christ’s sake (although the Prime Minister, Olof Palme, was shot to death while walking home after seeing a movie in 1986. He was also without a security detail, by his own choosing, his attacker escaped and was never brought to justice). Apparently her only offense was that she advocated for adopting the Euro as the national currency. She died from her injuries early this morning.

   Her attacker escaped.

   I  spent a good deal of the afternoon writing and reading from “Night Chills.”

   I wanted to tape “9/11, Two Years Later,” supposedly on NBC at 9:30p.m., but the T.V. Guide, supplied to me by the infamous L.A. Times, lied to me yet again, and that program did not air at all! In it’s place was an “encore” (repeat) episode of “Whoopie,” Ms Goldberg’s new sit-com, which had premiered just a few days ago. A repeat broadcast of the only episode that was possible to be repeated. 

   Fortunately for me, the show turned out to be pretty good. I’ll have to write Whoopie a letter of congratulations.

   There, I’ve put it on my “Things To Do,” list. 

   Fortunately, others choose not to ignore the second anniversary of the most horrendous attack on the U.S. ever, and the thousands of deaths of clearly innocent people (I don’t mean to single out NBC. No other major networks had any programming devoted to commemorating the anniversary on their prime time schedules. Even all of the local UHF stations neglected to feature this on the actual anniversary. Of course, it was covered by everybody’s news departments).

   I did tape tonight’s “Nightline,” program with Ted Koppel, arguably the best nightly news program on VHS, which featured not stories of 9/11, but our current efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq, which of course were precipitated by the events of 9/11. Koppel closed with this remark, and I paraphrase, “The more we allow the effects of nine eleven to dominate and change our lives, as it so apparently has from airport security, the Patriot Act, to the nation’s economy, the more those who masterminded the attacks are successful.”

   Not a new observation by any means, but very, very true.

   The actor John Ritter died tonight as well, at about 10:48p.m., in nearby Burbank, from an aortic dissection. He was actually working on the set of his sit-com, “8 Simple Rules,” when he fell ill and was rushed to the hospital. An aortic dissection is essentially a tear in the aorta, which is connected to the heart and is the largest artery in the human body.

   I suppose he was best known for the role of Jack Tripper, on “Three’s Company,” which also starred the lovely actresses Joyce DeWitt and Suzanne Somers (who I’m still secretly in love with, or at least her character, Chrissy Snow. Please don’t tell anyone).

   He was a very talented and funny actor, and he will be missed. 

   Lucille Ball died of the same cause on  April 26, 1989.

   I went to sleep this night and dreamt once again that I was at Ground Zero, this time accompanied by the lovely and talented actress, Rita Hayworth, and news anchor and co-host of NBC's “Dateline NBC,” Jane Pauley.

   We walked. I was in the middle, with each lady taking one of my hands.

   We looked up to the twin beams of light racing into the sky.

12   September     Friday    Day 62.

   The country singing legend, Johnny Cash passed away during the night of complications from diabetes in a Nashville hospital. 

   He died less than four months after his wife, June Carter Cash, died of complications following heart-valve replacement surgery in the same hospital, Nashville Baptist.        

   50,533.8 different people passed away throughout the night as well. I don’t know their names, or what they did in life.

   I wish I did.

   Did you know that there are about 4 births each second of every day, and that almost 2 people die each second?

   You know what that means don’t you? One of these days the babies will outnumber us and take over.

   I woke just at 7:00A.M. and meditated. 

   Maybe today, I said to myself.

   After determining that Giselle had taken a well deserved day off, I showered and prepared myself for a day at the movies. 

   Such a harsh, demanding life I lead.

   I stopped at the 99 Cent Store by Macarthur Park in order to purchase two reasonably cold bottles of root beer. They had no pre-popped popcorn, I checked. I really wasn’t in the mood for it anyway.

   The ride to Universal City in the Red Line subway was uneventful, and hardly worth writing about. I read from “Night Chills.”

   I arrived at the theater complex in plenty of time to enjoy a tasty breakfast chile-cheese burger from Tommy’s before buying a ticket for “Once Upon a Time in Mexico,” starring the aforementioned Salma Hayek. 

   I got myself a large buttered popcorn (pre-popped!), before taking  a seat. That would go nicely with my now lukewarm root beer. 

   Another in the long list of mariachi mercenary films, which had little to do with anything remotely approaching what we like to call reality, but heavy on mind-numbing violence (“Violence, violence, it’s the only thing that will make you see sense.” -Mott the Hoople ), and no sex whatsoever (“Desperado,” at least had Antonio Banderas frolicking with Salma). Salma played a memory of Antonio’s, who due to her death, was the most sympathetic character in the film. His motive throughout the movie was to seek revenge on the man who had killed her. Yet, I didn’t care about him all that much, no doubt due to his heavily mysterious, enigmatic portrayal. I didn’t like the fact that bullets never hit him no matter how many came his way. 12 guys could have been standing in a circle pointing 44 mags at his swarthy, unemotive face, fire at the same time and wind up hitting only each other (that’s not a bad idea actually. They should have filmed a scene like that). Yes, one of those kind of films.

   Antonio on the other hand seemed to always be able to hit whatever he was shooting at, as if all of his bullets were little guided missiles, turning corners, and bouncing off of walls, killing every bad guy in creation. 

   Johnny Depp provided some much needed comedic relief as a markedly psychotic C.I.A. agent on assignment in the field (he even wears a T-shirt with the letters “C.I.A.” embossed on the front), with a thing for pork.  I liked his character, which was probably the best thing about the film (he’s had a good year, winning critical acclaim for this movie and “Pirates of the Caribbean “), but I didn’t sympathize with him, or wasn’t all that upset about what finally happened to him. He was a cold blooded murderer (Depp’s character that is. I don’t know if Johnny has personally murdered anyone... he probably has) of at least four somewhat innocent people, and that was before the action really got started. Oh my, he killed poor Cheech Marin for God’s sake, and for no good reason that I could see. 

   I don’t know why Cheech and Salma keep coming back to work for Robert Rodriguez (the film’s director. He also  wrote, produced, edited, cinematographied, scored, and catered the movie. An obvious overachiever). They keep getting killed, or beat up, shot at, turned into vampires, or space aliens... it’s just not dignified!

   Oh yeah, the dead bodies kept breathing, which is unusual in death actually. I’ve seen dead people before, and they’re done with respiration. You would think Salma and Cheech could hold their breaths for the 30 seconds or so it takes to film a shot. I would think that.

   Don’t get me wrong, I liked the movie. It was fun and entertaining. It was a good sequel to “Desperado,” Depp making it unique. I certainly have nothing against disembodied torture, garroting, knives in the face, etc., as long as it’s done with tact, grace, and good cheer. On the whole I’m very glad I saw it.   

   Could have used a twidge more action though.

   I accidentally waited 30 minutes, and stumbled into a different theater just as Ridley Scott’s “Matchstick Men,” starring Alison Lohman and Nicolas Cage, began. 

   Two wonderful performances from Mr. Cage in a row, first in last year’s “Adaptation,” and now in this film, in which he’ll probably receive another Academy Award nomination (and if Chris Cooper doesn’t receive one for this year’s “Seabiscuit,” I’ll go plant myself in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater and set myself on fire). Of the two I prefer last year’s, but that’s just me. Alison was just wonderful playing (and I do mean playing) Cage’s daughter, and Sam Rockwell, an exceptionally talented, young, up and coming actor, was so good in his role that after the film finished I wanted to go find him and kick his smug, flabby ass. 

   The title refers to a slang term applied to con artists, and was kind of a contemporary “The Sting,” with a little “As Good as it Gets” thrown in for good measure. Like “The Sting,” the plot relied on an overly elaborate, improbable con, which is pulled off without a hitch. 

   I prefer realistic to contrived, and still feel 1967‘s “The Flim Flam Man,” starring George C. Scott and Sue Lyon to be the finest film concerning this important issue.

   I could have accidentally wandered into “Cabin Fever,” I suppose, but found myself outside the theater after “Matchstick Men,” so I returned downtown to the Weingart, in time to enjoy two cold chile dogs served sans condiments, for dinner.

   Then upstairs to write and drink green tea.

   Rather than watch Katie Couric spend two hours interviewing Dr Phil, I tuned onto the wonderful “The Bernie Mac Show,” starring... Bernie Mac, and “Wanda at Large,” starring Wanda.    

   Before retiring I meditated and read some more, after gaining sleep I had the most bizarre  dream involving the lovely and talented actress/comedian/acrobat Victoria Jackson, a 1957 Chevy pickup, 12.5 grapefruits, 8 jars of light mayonnaise, a slinky, 6 inch and a half inch purple plastic Buddhas, 2 gallon cans of red lead primer paint, 8 feet of aluminum foil, 42 ears of corn (uncooked), 3 slingshots, a cannon ball, 72 rubber bands of various sizes, 1 cotton swab, and a trampoline. 

13 September   Saturday   Day 63

   “There wasn’t one good summer movie... someone put another bullet in me.” _Mad T.V.

   I woke late, just after 10:00, or so. I got up and made myself some coffee before showering.

   I was late for breakfast as well, and too late to sign in. I busied myself by cleaning my room while listening to a NPR show on the radio with two guys talking about computers and carbon nanotubes being used to build elevators that travel into outer space.

   After lunch (roast beef... again) I strolled downtown via bus in order to purchase a buck’s worth of wheat bread, the paper, and a super lotto ticket, choosing the Mega 13, and using the Quick Pick (random number generator) option to pick the winning number. 

   Back in my room, I wrote and read yesterday’s paper. I meditated and practiced myself some yoga, along with some crunches, push ups, and 77 count burpies.

   Gary Porch was no where in sight (probably on another bender), so I ate dinner alone.

   At 8:00p.m. I taped two one hour programs about personal recollections of two groups of people stuck in the World Trade Center on 9/11 who had obviously escaped from the buildings before they collapsed.

   A fascinating program. One gentleman told his story about after helping an injured man down to the 33rd floor of the North Tower, and after a fireman told him to “Get the fuck out of here!”  abandoned him, making it out of the building just before  the tower went down. He had come to terms with this, he said. 

   I’d have a hard time living with that, myself, yet if he had stayed he would have died.

   He survived, many didn’t. Life... and death, is not fair.

   At 11:00 I watched Mad T.V. on Fox, the season premier. The quote at the beginning of this entry came from the opening bit, about a black pop singer criticizing this years’s list of summer films, in which he didn’t have many good things to say. 

   I stayed awake for the rest of the night, reading and writing, and taping the last hour of the American Experience program I had watched Monday night.

   Since I didn’t go to sleep until much later I’ll end this entry here.

   

14 September   Sunday   Day 64

  

    I finished recording the World Trade Center story at 2:00a.m. At that point I turned the T.V. off and switched the radio on to NPR, listening to the cost estimates of the occupation in Iraq and comparisons of precisely how much 86 billion dollars is. Approximatly $1,600 from each American family.

   The radio also told me of another story which concluded that most of the world’s problems which we currently face, such as over population, pollution, disease, unemployment, Huell Howser, etc, could be solved with  a modest expenditure of 100 billion dollars a year for 12 years. Interesting.

   I wrote and read from the papers of the last two days. I didn’t feel tired yet. When I finished writing and reading the papers, I finished the Koontz book, continuing on to the U.S. News Outer Space book. I began to get sleepy then, but stayed awake as I wanted to start some laundry at 5:00.

   I exercised, yogaed, and meditated. It’s hard to meditate when sleepy as there’s a tendency to fall over.

   I started my laundry at 5:00, and continued to write. Just before I went down to breakfast my clothes finished drying, and I brought them back to my room. 

   This was the first time I’d been to breakfast for weeks. It being Sunday, traditional boiled eggs and potatoes were served. It was good. I ate greedily, discarding the evil yokes of course.

   Upon return to my lonely room I put my clothes away and decided to go to sleep for a while. I slept until 11:45, having an interesting dream in the process. I was aboard the Seaview submarine with the lovely and magical Barbara Eden from “I Dream of Jeannie.” She was dressed in a standard naval bikini, and was showing me the view from the forward observation deck. We could see lots a fake looking monsters out there taunting us.

   “Want to take a ride on the Flying Sub before the Van Allen radiation belts catch fire?” she asked me happily.

   “Sure,” I replied. She took my hand and led me to the Flying Sub hatch. “Later can we take a ride on the Dancing Locomotive?”

   “I don’t see why not,” she exclaimed, then crossed her arms, blinked, and disappeared.

   “Fuck,” I said to myself, then woke up. She was taken from me yet again.

   The Whistler woke me. He (or she) is out there again.

   It now being lunch time I went downstairs to eat. 2 hot dogs, 1 bun.

   I got tired of hanging out in my room, and decided to take the Gold Line to Pasadena, just for the ride... and to visit Barnes and Noble, maybe to pick up a book or two... or three, or more.

   What I wound up getting was Koontz’s “Watchers” (a good dog in this one), King’s “It” (finally), Peter Struab’s “Floating Dragon,” the last two of Clark’s Odyssey saga, a Merriam Webster dictionary, “Life on the Mississippi,” by some guy named Twain, Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley,” “Nolo’s Copyright Handbook,” and “How to Seal Criminal Records in California.”

   Ten more books I’ll eventually have to move somewhere else.

   And these things get heavy, especially King’s books (so much back story).

   I came right back, having been gone for only three hours.

   Oh, I almost forgot. I also picked up copies of the latest issues of “Stuff,” and “FHM,” magazines... only because Catherine Bell and Jenny McCarthy were featured on their respective covers. 

   At least I had a valid reason for getting these, as my admiration for these two lovely and talented actresses is deep.

   Gosh, those magazine guys sure know how to market their product.

   Gary Porch came knocking on my door. I even let him in.

   He looked to be in reasonably good health and sober, and I thought he may have made it through the weekend without sabotaging himself.

   He did too. He’d gone out before the weekend and did all of his drinking, or whatever it is that he does, staying out Thursday and Friday night, all on the $22 his dad had sent to him for a buss pass.

   Well, the Weingart staff had had enough. Gary told me his case manager, Frank, the weekend guy, had just given him a letter informing him that he had to be out of the facility by Tuesday morning at 9:30.

   It’s not like he didn’t expect it. Each week he stayed out he would be told that if it happened one more time he’d be terminated. He’d been given about 37 million chances, and each week, like clock work, he’d go out and do it again.

   A true red blooded addict by golly, there’s no pussyfooting about it with Gary. He’d only made it as long as he had, I think, because he has an affable way about him, and he was always honest about what he was doing.

   He’s got a little over $600 on account here, and now plans to move up north to Seattle, something he’s always planned on anyway.

   We went over to his room and he gave me some of his clothes that he didn’t plan on taking with him. Shirts mostly. I didn’t get his bubble-head Jack, from Jack in the Box, which is what I really wanted. 

   Someday... someday I’ll have one.

   I taped Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park: The Lost World,” which stars the lovely and talented  Julianne Moore. Based on a true story the film tells the tale of a bunch of dinosaurs who were cloned from mosquito vomit and brought back to life in modern times. Yeah, I know what your thinking, another one of those movies. 

   For various dinosaur species who had lived millions of years apart from each other they got along just famously... except for when they ate each other.

   I also taped the 2nd part of the “X-Files,” episode which had begun last week, only to discover that this week’s story line would be dragged out yet again to a 3rd... who knows, maybe 4 or 5 more parts. I’ve gone from being mildly infuriated to steadily perturbed. If Mimi Rogers wasn’t in it I’d erase both episodes right this minute.

   But she was, and I didn’t. She’s kind of cute in a drop dead gorgeous sort of way. And she’s very talented as well.

   I went to sleep and dreamt I was lying under a tree near a small, peaceful brook, and Connie Peterson, the lovely star of “The Little French Maid,” and other fine films, was sitting beside me, smoothing my brow and holding my hand, whispering “Poor dear... poor dear,” over and over and over again.

Racism, Poverty, and The American Dream

“Some things are bigger than basketball”  -Etan Thomas 

Don't think homelessness can happen to you, think again. I have a friend who just emailed me from her phone stating she's at social services waiting in the homeless division because she's broke and is about to lose her house and everything she owns. Thing is, she was a music exec, making 6-figures a year. 3 years ago, her daughter became very ill. My friend didn't have any health insurance because she thought she'd be okay due to the money she had in savings, but she never thought her child would become ill. She spent all of her savings in the last three years and is now broke. So, don't think it can't happen to you...it can happen to ANYONE. Be thankful for the things you do have and stop striving for the fast/expensive car, the big house, and all of those things that don't REALLY matter. My friend used to have all of those things, now she has practically nothing. 

Help others, because your character is the only thing you're taking with you when you die. All I could do for her was buy her groceries and pray that she will find a job soon. Oh, and she was recently diagnosed with Lupus and a few other illnesses...sigh. I hate seeing people suffer. #wrecked - Carry Me Productions

Picture Legend:

1. Don Sterling
2. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
3. Rachel Maddow
4. President Obama and Malaysian Prime Minister, Najib Razak
5. Society
6. Bill Maher
7. Cliven Bundy... no relation to Al
8. Al Bundy
9. Paul Ryan
10. Charles Murray
11. Harry Truman
12. George W Bush
13. Bill Clinton
14. Ronald Reagan
15. Peter North
16. John Boehner
17. Mitch McConnell
18. Paul Krugman
19. Tom Coburn
20. Elizabeth Warren
21. George Carlin

   I attended my weekly “Depression Group” Monday afternoon at the Downtown V.A. Clinic, so I could aquire my weekly dose, but most of the 15 or so vets there were not depressed. Rather they seemed to be... perturbed. Why? Well they were all upset over the statements made by this Billionaire guy Don Sterling which some (including me) might consider racist in nature. 

   Not only my veteran friends were upset, everyone seems to be upset, or outraged, or up in arms, or whatever. Even mild mannered, and freakishly tall person, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, had this to say about the matter. Oh no, that’s not it. This is what he said.

    By Golly, the cable networks just can’t stop reporting about it. Even our dear friend, Rachel Maddow devoted quite a lot of time to it on her Monday night program (check out the  “On Racism in Sports, History is a Reference” video, and her interview with Kareem).

   Even the President, while visiting Malaysia, and standing next to the Prime Minister of that country, was asked about the situation during a press conference.

   I can just imagine what the Malaysian Prime Minister, Najib Razak, was thinking while Obama spoke... “What the hell are we talking about this crap for?! This has nothing to do with me!”

   I hope he was satisfied with the selfie he got with Barack.

   I need to point out that my Depression Group consists mostly of black veterans. I don’t know why? Maybe Hispanic, Caucasian, and Asian vets don’t suffer from depression much.

   And some of these black veteran’s, not all by any means, were very vocal and outraged over Mr. Sterling’s remarks, to the point our group’s facilitator, the lovely and talented Dr. Newsome, who is also black, needed to stop the few that were self igniting each other’s opinion base to the point where several were getting quite loud in their need to voice their thoughts (and to hear their own voices, I guess,  as these few made a habit of disproportionately taking up the group’s time), steering the group back to how, or if, this development effected these guys personally, and their level of depression. Three times.

   I quietly snickered to my self at their self-manufactured outrage. It’s been my experience that a significant percentage of black people believe that racism is always directed towards them, or black people in general. Racism directed toward Hispanics, Asians, and the pygmy head hunters from Sumatra, doesn;t really count.

   Now I understand our nation’s history concerning slavery and illegal immigration, and I understand how racism effects minorities in socio-economic matters, blacks and Hispanics more prominently than others, (White Americans (non-Hispanic/Latino and Hispanic/Latino) are the racial majority, with a 72% share of the U.S. population, according to the 2010 U.S. Census. Hispanic and Latino Americans amount to 15% of the population, making up the largest minority. African Americans are the largest racial minority, amounting to nearly 13% of the population. The White, non-Hispanic or Latino population, which includes also individuals from the Middle East and North Africa, make up 63% of the nation's total) and that racism is a significant social problem and should be dealt with when it rears it’s ugly head.

   But it’s a problem that is not likely to be solved any time soon.

   I live in an area that is populated predominantly by blacks. In Skid Row I am a minority member and I have been the target of racist remarks on occasion. When a black person calls someone “white boy,” or “cracker,” they’re making racial statements. 

   I’ve been called these things, and others. I’ve also heard much more offensive remarks.

   It doesn’t bother me that much.

   If I were to voice these instances at let’s say, my Depression Group, I might experience a certain amount of indignation by the most vocal, which wouldn’t bother me that much either.

   Personally I have no opinions about people of other races than my own. I tend to associate myself with individuals no matter what their race may be, rather than group people into particular categories. Considering where I live most of my friends and acquaintances are black and Hispanic. The only group of humans that I immediately don’t care for are those who display obnoxious, or loud tendencies in their behavior, no matter what race they may be a member of... and of course short people and the Dutch, who I hate with the intensity of a burning sun... and anyone who doesn’t live in Los Angeles (which gives me an excuse to post another Randy Newman song, featuring Laura Howard Granito. And yes, I fully understand the implications of the song concerning dichotomy).

   I think I understand the roots of racism, which go way, way back to our days as hunter gathers and before. 

   In our distant past it was advantageous for us to be suspicious of strangers. Strangers were not us, and represented danger and the unknown. Better to stick with those we knew and trusted. Throughout history there are many precedents for this attitude. The Romans and Mongols were strangers that warred upon and enslaved those who they came upon, or who stood in their way. It was wise to fear them and take precautions and defensive measures against the invaders if possible. White men came to Africa to capture black men and women and children. On and on and on, going back to antiquity.

   Racism is hardwired in us, like the color of our eyes and hair.

   Racism, or specism is prevalent in nature. One species feeds on another. For the prey it is better to stay as far away from the hunter as possible. One could say the pray is ostracizing the species that hunts it, as would most of us put in their position. 

   The distrust of those who are different from us was at one time a very good survival strategy. 

   And it still is to a degree. We trust those who are in our immediate family, more than distant relatives, and certainly much more than those we aren’t related to us at all. And it’s probably prudent to do so.

   Yet our society flips out and gets all excited when blatant remarks or actions are committed concerning members of different races. To a degree the historical pressure to distrust or take defensive actions of those who are different than us is less than it was in our past. The invention of society, and the advent of law has lessened the threat posed by strangers, or those who are different... to a degree. Crime still exists, and there are reasons for that as well.

   So it is my position that racist attitudes are antiquated (I can make a good case for religious attitudes, or religion as well, but that will be for another time), and currently surface through the maintenence of ignorance, and from those who’s early environment fostered ignorance. These individuals tend to cherish these beliefs and hold to them throughout their lives because those they associate with hold the same beliefs, and it’s much easier to maintain a belief than it is to change one’s world view and admit the possibility of error, an attitude that is also born from ignorance. 

   So I think racism is a symptom of a lager problem that faces society, which is the prevalence of ignorance.

   This observation doesn’t make these difficulties faced by society any easier to solve.

   So why get all upset.

   I would have liked to say to my fellow veterans, if you feel the need to speak out about an issue, to get all excited and up in arms, and vocal about something, instead of directing our attention towards this one individual (Sterling, who was banned for life Tuesday from attending NBA games or practices, being present at any Clippers office or facility, or participating in any business or player personnel decisions involving the team, and cannot participate in any league business going forward. He was also fined $2.5 million and pressure will be brought on him to sell the Clippers franchise which he’s owned for 35 years. Mr. Sterling, who turned 80 last month, is a lawyer and will most likely litigate this decision. Yet, as the comedian Stephen Colbert pointed out on his program Tuesday night, a lifetime ban is significant. “Who knows,” he said, “how many months that will be”), why don’t we focus on problems that really matter, that effect us and our civilization as a whole, like global warming, over fishing, deforestation, pollution, species extinction, invasive species, extreme weather (such as we are currently experiencing in the American southeast), income inequality, the prevalence of ignorance itself*, and a host of other pressing issues we and our children will inevitably have to deal with.

   The  television host, stand-up comedian, political commentator, satirist, author, and actor, Bill Maher made the same point, Tuesday evening on the MSNBC “All In,” program with Chris Hayes:

   “ESPN seems to have found their Malaysian plane,” Maher said, later adding, “If we we’re really talking about what’s important, the headline — and it would be a banner headline in the newspaper every day and every blog — that basically says, ‘The planet is dying and the icecaps are melting, we must do something very, very soon or we’re all going to die.’”

   Why does he think a lot of people and the media are getting all worked up about this particular issue?

   “It’s an opportunity for self-congratulation,” Maher said. “It’s an opportunity for people to [say], ‘I’m one of the good people, because I think this guy has got to go.’ Well, yeah, we all agree that this guy is a bad guy but there are not that many opportunities anymore for a lot of people to contribute to society. So they feel like one way they can contribute to society is by making bad people go away.”

   The only thing I did say during Monday’s Depression Group was at the end as I was leaving, to Dr. Newsome.

   “This Sterling guy sure did Clive Bundy a favor” (meaning that the national media’s attention had been taken off of Bundy’s racist remarks and transfered to Sterling’s racist remarks).

   This is not the only controversy the Mr. Sterling has been associated with. 

   A resident of Los Angeles, he made his money in real estate (Forbes magazine lists his current net worth at a paltry $1.9 billion, hardly worth mentioning compared to Oprah (who has expressed interest in buying The Clippers)). In August 2006, the U.S. Department of Justice sued him for housing discrimination in using race as a factor in filling some of his apartment buildings. The suit charged that he refused to rent to non-Koreans in the Koreatown neighborhood and to African Americans in Beverly Hills. The suit alleged Sterling once said he did not like to rent to Hispanics because they “smoke, drink, and just hang around the building,” and that “Black tenants smell and attract vermin.” He agreed to pay a fine of $2.73 million to settle claims that he engaged in discriminatory rental practices against Hispanics, blacks, and families with children.

   He also doen’t mind using poor people to his advantage. In June of 2006 the Donald T. Sterling Charitable Foundation's would spend $50 million on a site on the eastern end of Downtown Los Angeles to provide services for Los Angeles' homeless population. As to what kind of services, I have no idea. Perhaps homeless people could come to the center and check in each day to be ridiculed by Sterling and his friends, who knows, as he has neglected to back up his promise (nothing has been built). The so-called charitable foundation still publicizes their intentions which is rather odd. Some cynical critics believe Sterling bought the property purely for its real-estate value.

   So we’ve pretty much established that Donald Sterling is a dick... and an old dick at that. Let’s hope, as Mr. Maher pointed out, that the Donald Sterling problem (and why not throw in Charles (78) and David Koch (73) as well) will soon be solved by a good case of the flu (it was reported earlier today that Mr. Sterling is suffering from prostrate cancer).

   The poor (the word “poor’ being used in every sense of the word) don’t care. We’re used to being treated this way by others who think of themselves as being well off.

   Like the Republicans in Congress for instance.

   The Republicans economic golden boy, former vice presidential candidate, and latent sex symbol, House Budget Chairman Paul Ryan of Wisconsin, set forth his vision toward reforming America’s programs regarding poverty last March on a conservative morning radio show. He hinted that he would focus on creating work requirements for men “in our inner cities” and dealing with the “real culture problem” in these communities. “We have got this tailspin of culture, in our inner cities in particular, of men not working and just generations of men not even thinking about working or learning the value and the culture of work, and so there is a real culture problem here that has to be dealt with,” he said.

   Well, well, a culture problem... in our inner cities, and men not even wanting to work.

   You know, a lot of reporting on this statement was done at the time, alluding to the possibility that Ryan was singling out a certain race, which he vehemently denied. “There was no mention of race in my statements,” he told some black gentleman when called on it. But we know exactly what he was talking about, dear readers. He was talking specifically about BLACK MEN.

   I always marvel though  that certain questions are never asked by the media to our Republican friends, such as, where are you getting this information?

   That’s a simple question. It’s not hard to say, or ask. But no one ever does.

   How much time has Ryan spent in our inner cities? How many of these men has he talked to? The women must be doing okay since he didn’t mention them. They must be supporting those lazy ass men, while they’re collecting all of that lovely welfare.

   Is he citing some empirical, peer reviewed study, which unambiguously comes to this conclusion, or is he, how shall I put this, pulling it directly out of his butt?

   Guess which dear readers!

   Ryan doesn’t cite a study, but rather the conservative social scientist (and I apologize to real scientists for using that title), Charles Murray, who once said this: “Try to imagine a… presidential candidate saying in front of the cameras, ‘One reason that we still have poverty in the United States is that a lot of poor people are born lazy.’ You cannot imagine it because that kind of thing cannot be said. And yet this unimaginable statement merely implies that when we know the complete genetic story, it will turn out that the population below the poverty line in the United States has a configuration of the relevant genetic makeup that is significantly different from the configuration of the population above the poverty line. This is not unimaginable. It is almost certainly true.” —“Deeper Into the Brain,” National Review, 2000.

   Poor people are just lazy, that’s the answer! It’s just so simple! And they’re lazy due to their genetic makeup... so if that were true it’s not really their fault is it? But that question is never explored, and for good reason. The entire proposition is without merit, more an example of ideology than science. This is the way Ryan and Murrey want the world to be like, so it is... to them. 

   “We want people to reach their potential and so the dignity of work is very valuable and important and we have to re-emphasize work and reform our welfare programs, like we did in 1996,” Ryan said. 

   “The dignity of work,” uttered by a prominent majority member of the House of Representatives which has been rightly criticized for enacting less legislation than Harry Truman’s famous "Do Nothing Congress" of 1947. As a matter of fact that Congress was like a decathlon athlete on steroids compared to the current one, so I wish Mr Ryan would take his own advice and pass it along to his fellow House Republicans and get to work for the benefit of the country (Senator Ryan conveniently forgets that it was a Republican administration (that would be that of  George W. Bush) that increased the level of poverty and homelessness in this country through it’s pursuit of so-called free market policies and deregulation of Wall Street, which allowed banks to turn into casinos with other people’s money, creating a housing market bubble which when burst created the largest financial crisis the country has seen since 1929, throwing millions of Americans out of their homes and onto the streets. But according to Ryan and his brethren, it was and is the poor who are at fault, not Republican ideology and policies. Remember when Bush was asked   what was the biggest mistake that he may of made while in office? He couldn’t think of any. Let me help him out... lying a country into an unnecessary war in Iraq maybe? But like Bush, Republicans can’t admit to their mistakes. They’re like little kids, and need to place blame on anyone but themselves).   

   Mr. Ryan was referring to the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act of 1996, signed into law by Bill Clinton as a sop to the Republicans after they took control of Congress in the 1994 mid-term elections. The bill added a workforce development component to welfare legislation, encouraging employment among the poor.

   The Republican idea behind the act, that those receiving welfare had become too dependent upon public assistance, that those who were on welfare for many years lost any initiative to find a job, that those on welfare realized that taking a job would mean not only losing benefits but also incurring child care, transportation and clothing costs, that new jobs probably would not pay well and may not include health insurance whereas on welfare they would have been covered by Medicaid, and thus encouraged welfare recipients to stay on welfare, was again presented without evidence. 

   Critics of the law argued that poverty in America increased from 1979 onward after President Reagan's presidential campaign criticized deficit spending and that the temporary large reduction in the number of people collecting welfare was largely a result of steady and strong economic growth in the years following the enactment of the law.

   Did you hear that? No, of course you didn’t. Did you see that statement I emphasized above? Steady and strong economic growth helped those who were in poverty to get out of it.

   A strong economy helping people, and the country. What an idea! Putting people to work also lowers the national crime rate, and helps to alleviate a host of other socio-economic problems, for instance making it easier for women to find meaningful, gainful employment, rather than being forced into jobs they would not normally consider, prostitution and the porn industry due to a failing economy being extreme examples, prostitution and porn being issues that social conservatives always say they are so concerned about, but are unwilling to do anything about.

   Prostitution? The porn industry? Really?

   Why do you think women get into those businesses? Because they’re nymphomaniacs and just can’t get enough of Peter North’s one eyed willy?

   I don’t think so. They do it because the need money.

   Why do you think actors work in daytime soaps? Same reason.

   Fortunately Senator Ryan began a hearing Wednesday with the lofty goal of getting to the roots of the poverty problem, called “A Progress Report on the War on Poverty: Lessons from the Frontlines.” The panel will include three “experts,” but no Americans who are actually effected by poverty were allowed to participate.

   What has Congress done to help our economy grow while Obama has been in office? Has it passed any job bills? Don’t look it up (or actually do look it up, don’t trust me), the answer is no, they haven’t. John Boehner, the Speaker of the House, keeps telling us that jobs are the number one priority of the House of Representatives, but hasn’t passed a single jobs bill, and then blames the president for his inaction. “Where are the jobs?” he keeps asking Obama. Well, if they were up your ass you’d know!

   Immigration, nothing done. Build the nation’s crumbling infrastructure, no way. Give tax breaks to the rich, well of course, after all, that’s who we work for. 

   Yesterday 41 Senators, all Republicans, voted to block a bill that would raise the national minimum wage to $10.10 an hour.  

   What would raising the national minimum wage do for the poor, and the general population in  this country? A whole lot it seems.

   It would help 28 million workers overall, whose wages would go up by an infusion of $35 billion dollars, ($35 billion dollars that would quickly return to the economy); 15 million women, who make up almost two-thirds of all minimum wage workers; one million veterans, which amounts to one in ten of all veterans currently working; 21 million children, who would have had at least one parent whose pay will go up; 3.5 million people of color, who make up a disproportionate number of minimum wage workers and whose wages are estimated to increase by $16.1 billion with a $10.10 minimum wage (stats provided by the Economic Policy Institute).   

   Raising the minimum wage would help workers who are still feeling the effects of the 1997/1998 Republican recession. The resulting impact on the overall economy would be demonstrably positive, as minimum-wage workers would spend their new earnings immediately, and not hoard their earnings away like the ultra-rich and large corporations are currently doing, generating a positive impact on the nation’s gross domestic product (GDP) and a related modest growth in employment. 

   But Republicans don’t see it that way. The main argument Republicans use in opposing the minimum wage hike is that it will decrease the number of jobs in the U.S. Republicans cite a Congressional Budget Office study that found a $10.10 federal minimum wage would reduce total employment by 500,000 workers in the second half of 2016.  

   But that same CBO study also said that 16.5 million people would see an increase in their earnings if a $10.10 minimum wage went into effect.

   Wow! 500,000 vs 16,000,000, let’s see, which would be more advantageous to help. 

   Oh, by the way, GOP Senators took checks from leading lobbyists representing big corporations opposed to raising the minimum wage. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, for instance, has taken $118,000 since 2008.

   I’m sure this campaign contribution and his no vote were just a coincidence. 

   On the other hand, The National Employment Law Project, a  national advocacy organization for employment rights of lower-wage workers states “The opinion of the economics profession on the impact of the minimum wage has shifted significantly over the past fifteen years. Today, the most rigorous research shows little evidence of job reductions from a higher minimum wage. Indicative is a 2013 survey by the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business in which leading economists agreed by a nearly 4 to 1 margin that the benefits of raising and indexing the minimum wage outweigh the costs.”

   Nobel laureate, Paul Krugman has this to say about this issue: “First of all, the current level of the minimum wage is very low by any reasonable standard. For about four decades, increases in the minimum wage have consistently fallen behind inflation, so that in real terms the minimum wage is substantially lower than it was in the 1960s. Meanwhile, worker productivity has doubled. Isn’t it time for a raise?

   Now, you might argue that even if the current minimum wage seems low, raising it would cost jobs. But there’s evidence on that question — lots and lots of evidence, because the minimum wage is one of the most studied issues in all of economics. U.S. experience, it turns out, offers many “natural experiments” here, in which one state raises its minimum wage while others do not. And while there are dissenters, as there always are, the great preponderance of the evidence from these natural experiments points to little if any negative effect of minimum wage increases on employment.”

   Tom Coburn, the Senator from Oklahoma (of course) believes in the “Free Market,” and doesn’t think we need a minimum wage at all. Don’t believe me? Well, here, he said this yesterday:

   “I don’t believe you ought to interfere in the market,” Coburn said when asked whether the current $7.25 minimum wage was high enough. “I don’t believe there ought to be a national minimum wage.”

   “The fact is if you look at … the good economic models, the benefit is small. The cost of lost jobs is great,” he said. “It goes against the free market principle. We don’t know what the minimum wage should be. How’d they pick $10.10? Why not $22? Why not $100?”

   Why not indeed?

   Earnings for the top 1 percent have gone up 177 percent since 1980. Meanwhile, minimum wage workers are actually making 16 percent less. 

   This kind of thinking is regressive in nature. Republican economics and social positions are regressive, wanting to transport the nation and it’s people to a time when there were no labor laws or protections for workers, women, and children, all to the advantage of businesses. I don’t know about you, dear readers, but I don’t believe Americans fought and died for this country in two World Wars, and a few thereafter, so they could have the honor of becoming serfs to the nation’s wealthy.

   Senator Coburn is advocating for a free, unrestricted business model, one similar to what China is  now enjoying (China's Ruthless Capitalism). 

   I suggest Mr. Coburn relocate, tomorrow if it can be arranged.

   Senator Elizabeth Warren has an opposing view. 

     “In 1968, the minimum wage was high enough to keep a working parent with a family of three out of poverty. In 1980, the minimum wage was at least high enough to keep a working parent with a family of two out of poverty. Today, the minimum wage isn’t even enough to keep a fully-employed mother and a baby out of poverty.

   Something is fundamentally wrong when millions of Americans can work full time and still live in poverty. And something is fundamentally wrong when big companies can get away with paying poverty-level wages and then stick taxpayers with the cost when their full-time workers end up on food stamps and Medicaid.

   I understand that some big businesses might like to keep things the way they are. But I really don’t understand this Republican filibuster. There’s nothing conservative about leaving millions of working people in poverty. There’s nothing conservative about expanding enrollment in government assistance programs. And there’s nothing conservative about preserving a sweetheart deal for companies that would rather milk the taxpayers for more corporate welfare than compete on a level playing field.” 

   Sen. Chuck Schumer of New York issued a clear indication on the Senate floor Wednesday that this fight is far from over: “If we don’t succeed this time…we will bring this bill to the floor again and again and again. Sooner or later we will get it done.”

   A poll was released last week indicating these Republican ideas and policies are out of step with the majority of Americans, despite the constant bombardment of right wing propaganda  presented by Fox News and folks like Rush “Drug Addled Gas Bag” Limbaugh.

      HuffPost/YouGov released findings that  Americans generally think that both the wealthy and the poor ended up where they are more because of the opportunities they had in life rather than because of personal successes or failures (such as the $26.3 billion Alice Walton inherited from her dad vs the $2.53 I inherited from mine (according to the Republicans, my father just didn’t apply himself enough). 

   Another poll conducted by The Wall Street Journal and NBC concluded that 55% of those asked agreed with the statement: “The economic and political systems in the country are stacked against people like me,” while 39% disagreed. 6% were too stoned on legal marijuana to reply.

   Republican policies they would see enacted, like the elimination of social programs designed to help the poor and disadvantaged such as the food stamp program and unemployment benefits, which they’ve already successfully cut, tend to exacerbate the problem. 

   Despite Republican efforts to treasonously  sabotage the national economy for purely political reasons, and despite a lukewarm report on the overall economy, nonfarm payrolls surged 288,000 last month, the Labor Department reported today. That was largest gain since January 2012 and beat economists' expectations for only a 210,000 rise.

   For a nation that is supposedly the richest in the world (after-tax middle-class incomes in Canada,  substantially behind in 2000,  now appear to be higher than in the United States. The poor in much of Europe earn more than poor Americans, and China is expected to surpass the U.S. economy in purchasing power sometime this year) which can afford to spend billions on defense that it doesn’t need in this day and age, and which can find about a trillion dollars a year to give away to the most wealthy of us and corporations, and which purports to be a Christian nation based on the teachings of Jesus Christ, the way it treats the least among it’s citizens is nothing but a national and moral disgrace.

   *A somewhat fatalistic message from George Carlin and The American Dream:

    “There's a reason education sucks, it's the same reason that it will never, ever, ever be fixed. It's never going to get any better, don't look for it, be happy with what you got.  Because the owners of this country don't want that.  I'm talking about the real owners, now.  The real owners, the big wealthy business interests that control things and make all the important decisions. Forget the politicians, they're an irrelevancy. The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice. You don't. You have no choice. You have owners. They own you. They own everything. They own all the important land. They own and control the corporations. They've long since bought and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the statehouses, the city halls. They've got the judges in their back pockets. And they own all the big media companies, so that they control just about all of the news and information you hear. They've got you by the balls. They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying,­ lobbying to get what they want. Well, we know what they want; they want more for themselves and less for everybody else.

   But I'll tell you what they don't want. They don't want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. They don't want well-informed, well-educated people capable of critical thinking. They're not interested in that. That doesn't help them. That's against their interests. They don't want people who are smart enough to sit around the kitchen table and figure out how badly they're getting fucked by a system that threw them overboard thirty fucking years ago.

   You know what they want? Obedient workers,­ people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork but just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shittier jobs with the lower pay, the longer hours, reduced benefits, the end of overtime and the vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it. And, now, they're coming for your Social Security. They want your fucking retirement money. They want it back, so they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street.  And you know something? They'll get it. They'll get it all, sooner or later, because they own this fucking place. It's a big club, and you ain't in it. You and I are not in the big club. 

   This country is finished.” 

Seattle Business And Labor Leaders give the Republicans in D.C. a big “F--K You" and Reach Compromise For Historic $15 Minimum Wage