How Hardy Ruined My Life

Photographic evindence Hardy
has stolen Erin


Seppuku

I used to be happy and fulfilled while living in my box here at the Las Americas. That is until Hardy began to take over.
At one time I enjoyed the love and respect of my fellow neighbors, my case managers, and other staff that may have happened to pass by. Erin, my lovely case manager, at one time called me her "favorite client." We would eat at the Hippie Kitchen every Tuesday morning (I should have suspected Hardy then, as I always saw him there, mixed in with the crowd of degenerate homeless people, staring at us with obvious envy). "I'm soooo excited about going to the Hippie Kitchen tomorrow, Rick," she would chirp at the Monday Garden Club. She used to read this blog on a regular basis (I know she doesn't read it any more because she never expresses outrage at all of the shocking things I write about her), and return my Emails pretty much as I wrote them to her. We'd go to McDonalds on occasion to dine on McGriddles, greasy hash browns, and hot coffee while talking about our personal lives, dreams, and aspirations.
No more. None of that exists today. And why?
Hardy.
I don't know how it happened. Lord knows I've tried to maintain my status and the benefits thereof. But everything has changed now... and I'm afraid, changed forever.
The following is a theoretical conversation I plan to have with Erin and case manager Paul tomorrow morning in their office before the Garden Club convenes at 9:00AM. Of course by then the conversation will not be theoretical... it will be a real conversation... and I'll have to get there early... at about 8:30 or 8:40, or so...
Before Hardy comes.
I will knock on their door.
"Come in..." I'll hear from deep within.
"Hi Erin."
"Hi Rick."
"Hi Paul."
"Hi."
"Did you get my message, Erin?"
"Yeah."
"Did you bring the DVD for my niece's birthday?"
"I forgot... maybe tomorrow."
"Figures."
"What?"
"Nothing." I'll take a seat between their desks.
"I needed to ask you guys something before the Garden Club starts," I'll tell them.
"Yeah," Paul will say. "We were going to put up a sign, Rick."
"A sign? What sign?"
"That Garden Club would be canceled today," Erin would say.
"Canceled? Why?"
Erin continued, "Today I'm taking the winner of the 'Case Management Appointment Contest' out to breakfast."
Both Paul and Erin had held lotteries, so to speak, for those who made case management appointments with them last month, and who had actually shown up for those appointments. Those names would be put in a random drawing and the winner would get to go out to breakfast or lunch with their respective case managers. Big thrill.
"Yeah... so," I said. "You'll still be here Paul... right?"
"I'm going to go along with them and hang out."
"Oh. May I ask who the winner is."
"Sure."
I waited a while.
"Well, who's the winner?"
"Oh," Erin said. "Hardy won."
At this point I'll take my lovely friend Michelle's often offered advice, "Breathe Rick, breathe."
"You see," I'll continue, "that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Okay," Paul said, "we've got a few minutes before Hardy gets here. Go ahead, shoot."
"Paul, I want to sign up on that list to get a free bike."
"What list? What are you talking about?"
This whole thing came to the boiling point yesterday, Saturday morning, when I was returning to my box with a nice plate of beans and salad from the Hippie Kitchen, passing Hardy as he stood outside the front door, like he always does, smoking and monitoring traffic.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey Hardy, how's it going?"
"Hey I got a free bike now," he said beaming.
"A free bike? Wow, that's great. How did you get a free bike?"
"Paul got it for me... you know, at that clinic."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's up in my room right now."
"Wow, that's great Hardy. Ah, I'll see ya later."
I went up to my box, and placed my plate of beans and salad on my desk. Just as Hardy anticipated, I couldn't get what he had just told me out of my head. I went back downstairs.
"Now let me get this straight, Hardy. You went to the bike clinic and Paul gave you a free bike?"
"Yeah. We came back here and there were three bikes in the basement. One just had a flat tire, and Paul asked me if I wanted it. We took it back to the clinic and filled it up and it stayed."
"Really. I went to the clinic too. As a matter of fact I was there before you were. Maybe I can get one of the other two..."
"Used' em for parts, Paul did."
"Oh... well that's great Hardy. I'm glad for you."
I returned to my room and sobbed for the rest of the day.
Back in the office:
"I'm talking about the list to get a free bike, like Hardy got. You must have a sign up list, right?'
"Well, not really, he was just..."
"Yeah, there at the right time. Is that what you were going to say?"
"Well yeah."
"Hardy is always just there at the right time," I continued, beginning to get agitated. "The freaking guy spends his entire life out in that lobby, twenty-four seven, waiting for you two to come out and ask him to do something. Of course he's going to be there at the right time."
"Now Rick..." Erin would say.
Breathe Rick, breathe.
"Oh, don't you start Erin. I know he's taken you away from me."
"What are you talking about?!"
"I used to be your favorite. We'd go to the Hippie Kitchen. We'd go to McDonalds. You'd read my blog for Christ's sake. Not anymore."
"Now Rick."
"When was the last time you've read my blog, Erin? Honestly?"
"Well, I've been very busy Rick."
"Yeah, you've been busy playing dominoes with Hardy! It's Hardy this. It's Hardy that. Hardy can I get you some cream for your coffee? Hardy! Hardy! Hardy!"
Breathe.
"You know... I understand. How can a guy like me compete with a guy like Hardy?... with his cool demeanor, those sparkling teeth, they're false you know! That gritty sense of humor... why sometimes even I fall under his spell!"
"Rick, come on," Paul said, "I think you're making..."
"Oh, and you. When we're in the supermarket you're all gaga over him. 'Hardy. What a classic.' you say. And you take him everywhere! Hardy let's go to Home Depot. Hardy, Let's go get some pizza. Hardy, let's go get frozen yogurt. Hardy let's go to Black Angus. Hardy, let's go to Vegas for the weekend..."
"Rick we never went..."
"Now hear me out you two. I try to help you guys as much as I can. Who brings you movies for movie day all of the time?"
"You do, Rick," Erin answered.
"Who attended all of your groups when no one else would?"
"You did, Rick," Paul answered.
"Who suggested free field trips to the museum?"
"You did Rick," they both said.
"Right! I did. And what do I get for it? I get Erin going, 'Thanks Rick,' in that high squeaky voice of hers. 'Thanks Rick.'"
"Squeaky?"
"Work all day for Thanksgiving dinner. You two were getting paid for that. I wasn't. What did I get after seven hours slaving over a hot stove... 'Thanks Rick.'"
"Rick..."
"After Movie Day each week where you get movies that are still in the freaking theaters, what do I get... 'Thanks Rick, thanks Rick, thanks Rick.' I even freaking empty your trash can, for God's sake! You guys are taking me for granted."
"Rick..."
"I like to go places too. I'll tell you what. I can move my computer down into the lobby and be as available as Hardy is. I can get used to watching CSI, and Law and Order. Or if you don't like that, all you have to do is call me and I'll come right down. You both have my number. I can go to Home Depot, just call. I can walk you out to your car when you leave from work, Erin. I can come with you Paul when you go get free bikes from the basement. Just call. That's why I come to these meetings, to get out of my box for a while, that's why. Just call."
"Box?"
"Rick," Paul said. "I think you're making too big a..."
"And Erin, how could you? I wrote blogs for your mother and best friend, for Christ's sake! I thought we had something... and now Hardy's your favorite."
"Rick..."
"I don't think I can live with the shame, Erin. I think it's seppuku time to be quite honest with you, the Japanese form of ritual suicide by disembowelment. I think It's come to that."
"Now Rick," Erin said, "you always threaten seppuku when you don't get your way...
"Paul, I can't trust anyone else. Would you do me the honor of being my Second. After I make the last cut will you lop off my head so I don't disgrace myself by showing pain?"
"Rick... let's talk this over," Paul said. "We appreciate how you help out around here, and maybe when a bike becomes available we can get you one, but that's not what this is all about, is it? You can't expect us to reward you for those things you do. That's not how it works. Now what do you really want?"
"I've just told you..."
"Rick... come on, tell us."
"Well... how about a cut from each of your pay checks on a continuous basis..."
Out in the garden Paul struck true and strong, the blade whistling as it sliced through the air. He was so eager to do a good job he didn't even wait for me to make the first cut.
Curse you Hardy! Curse you to hell!

Michelle

Of all the feminine given names that exist the name Michelle has probably had the most profound effects upon my life.
The first that I can think of was Michelle Meridian, the dark, buxom teenage siren of Armenian descent that consented to be my girlfriend for about two weeks when we were in high school, who dumped me after I got into a fight defending her honor, losing half a front tooth in the process, then hooking up with one of my friends who had the advantage of an automobile.
My first wife's name was Michelle. Michelle W. She left me after less than two years of marriage simply because I was drunk and stoned all of the time. Bitch.
And then of course there's crazy Michelle Bachman, the U.S. Representative from Minnesota (see, Michelle Ma Belle 1 & 2). Enough said.
My favorite though, of all the Michelle's who have entered into my life (and pretty much of all the females period, who have entered into my life) did so for only the briefest of time, and did not dump me because she didn't have the chance, due to the fact that we were never together. When our respective paths separated they did so as part of a natural progression, her path taking her in one direction away from me, and my path taking me directly to the shit house.
Listen: I first met my favorite Michelle while working as the Residence Manager at the Salvation Army's Adult Rehabilitation Center in Pasadena, California. I've written extensively about this period in my life in the book length memoir that is currently being serialized on the blog, entitled Salvation Diary. However I met her much later when I was in the process of editing that work, and I don't remember what the exact date was when we first met, and neither does she, but I'm thinking it must have been somewhere in 1993, the early to middle part... 17 cool years ago.
I do remember sitting behind the front desk in the lobby of the residence in the early evening one weekday, minding my own business, when in walked this young (she must have been Erin's age, mid twenties), stunningly attractive, brunette girl (look at the picture above, dear readers, she hasn't changed at all), coming up to me at the desk, and introducing herself.
"Hi. I'm Michelle _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _," she must of said (or something to that nature). "I'm here to counsel" (or something of that nature).
"Okay," I said. We must have enjoyed some small talk, or some such, as we shared some type of rapport. The Program Director, Dr. Edmund Reitz had previously assigned her certain beneficiaries who she would counsel on a weekly basis as part of their recovery program, and she was what was known as an "intern," a college student, clinical psychology in her case, there to receive credit toward her degree.
I called over the P.A. System for her first client, and she took a seat nearby on one of the lobby chairs. I kept a quite eye on her, I don't know why.
She sat for a moment, taking in all of the various events transpiring around her in the busy building, looking around with wide eyes, seemingly a tad uncomfortable, or at least nervous. Then abruptly she turned back toward me, smiled, then got up and hopped (hopped, I don't know why that particular verb sticks in my head when I think of that moment, but it does) back over to me at the desk, and we began talking again until her first client showed up and I showed them where they could go to talk.
This is what she wrote to me of that moment just a few days ago: "I am remembering that I was just a kid when I met you and I really did follow you around didn't I? Talk about being over my head. I was in undergraduate psych courses which might as well be high school and counseling seriously life-diseased addicts and alcoholics-inconceivable!"
It was at that first "hopping," and talking moment, that I knew we would become friends, and that she was very special.
It's been my experience that most beautiful girls, especially the young ones, either hide behind their beauty, and use it as a barrier to protect themselves, or use it as a weapon bent toward world domination. Michelle did neither. She seemed to be completely without guile or pretense. Exceptionally friendly and bright (I would often open up the downstairs apartment near the front desk so she could watch "Jeopardy" in between counseling her clients). She would later tell me, "I'm very naive. You can tell me anything and I'll believe it." My God, how could you not love her.
Needless to say I was very fond of her, and looked forward to her weekly (sometimes twice a week?) visits, and we would always talk about this and that. As I said, I was editing Salvation Diary at the time, and always looking for a captive audience. I offered my material to Michelle for her critical opinion, which surprisingly she accepted, actually taking my stuff with her to read and later to comment on.
"I have a whole drawer devoted to Rick things," she once told me.
I believe her encouragement at that particular time, her invaluable advice, and technical expertise ("I think maybe you use the word, 'though,' a little too much," she told me once. She was right! I did use the word "though" a little too much. I used it a lot too much. Thanks to Michelle, I no longer do that, though I use it sometimes. Now if only I can rid myself of that nasty "comma" habit), helped me immeasurably, allowed me to carry on, and this blog is a direct result of her support, love, and sincere desire to help all of those 17 years ago.
I owe you a great deal, my friend, Michelle.
We were friends. There was no chance of our becoming romantically involved due to the difference in our age (and that fact that she already had a boyfriend). I was 12 years older than her, around 37, I guess (to this day I remain 12 years older than her), and young, beautiful women in their mid-twenties do not get romantically interested in 37 year old broke, recovering alcoholics and drug addicts unless kidnaping is involved, no matter how "naive" they may be. It just doesn't happen. I knew it. She knew it. We both knew it and accepted that fact without having to discuss the matter. The only one who didn't know it was the Administrator's wife, at that time a Mrs. Strickland, who got a look at Michelle one night after I had invited her to some formal dinner function where I was one of many being honored for something. I don't remember what.
"She's lovely," Mrs. Strickland said. "She should be your girlfriend, Rick."
"She already has a boyfriend, Mrs. Strickland. Michelle is just a very good friend of mine."
Just a good friend. How denigrating. A good friend I think, can be so much more important than anything else.
But of course I was still enamored with my friend. How could any red blooded American male not be. Being an aspiring writer, I wrote her a story entitled "The _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Blues," the blanks being her last name. She says she still has it, along with some Haiku poems I wrote for her. I have a vague memory of what was in it, some kind of fawning description of her many attributes I'm sure, and how sad I would be when we eventually went our separate ways, hence the "Blues," element.
And she did go away.
The last time I saw my friend Michelle was on her birthday (our birthdays are suspiciously close together, 11 days apart as it happens, although she has the distinct disadvantage of being a Libra, rather than enjoying the superior trappings and security of a Scorpio). She had left the counseling program at the ARC by that time, and was working for some private concern in Rancho Cucamonga. I bought a bouquet of roses, drove all the freaking way out there, and presented myself to the front desk of her place of work.
Now I knew for sure that she happened to like flowers. I knew this because I had given her some when she had left the ARC program, at the front desk, and someone asked her if she liked them, and she said, "I'm a girl. I like flowers."
So I knew I was on pretty good footing bugging her unannounced at her new job. I had planned to just drop off the flowers, and make a quick and mysterious retreat, being as inobtrusive as possible.
The receptionist though (there's that dreaded word again!), must have been a romantic, and directed me to wait while she called Michelle from wherever she was working.
She was surprised and happy to see me (I think). Certainly happy to get some flowers on her birthday. And she took the time to pull me into some large utility closet where we sat for awhile a chatted, catching up briefly, before I left, never to see her again.
I believe I spoke to her once more on the phone briefly. And that was it. Until 17 years later. After she had faced some demons in her own life and prevailed, after marrying, and finding a life that is like "heaven," I received the following message via Facebook:
Michelle says, "Wow, I should have found you here first! I just sent a message to you on your myspace. Not even sure you remember me, but I have a few copies of your haiku poems and a short story titled, The _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Blues, that you wrote, so I figured I would try to catch up with you at some point- to no avail until now :) Hope all is well and look forward to hearing from you!!"
My dearest friend, how could I not remember you?
How could I ever forget?

The Day Democracy Died

There are some great things to report today. The film "Creation," (see, the earlier post Creation) debuts in this country this evening. Finally. I had the privilege of watching it the other night and it is a wonderful human drama, a bit sad of course, as could be expected when examining the death of a young daughter.
And I've been reacquainted with my long time friend, Michelle, who I traded Emails back and forth with last night, catching up, and remembering old times in that residence back in Pasadena. If this continues I may have to breakdown and buy an Iphone, and start texting all of the time like my lovely case manager, Erin.
But this post is not about today. It's about the 21st of January. No, I'm not talking about the birthday of Academy Award winners Paul Scofield and Geena Davis. Nor am I celebrating the anniversaries of the launch of the first nuclear powered submarine, the USS Nautilus in 1954, or gloating over the fact that Newt Gingrich became the first Speaker of the House of Representatives to be internally disciplined for ethical misconduct in 1997. No, I'm talking yesterday the 21st of January, 2010, the day this country changed from a democracy into a corporatocracy, or as Michelle would have it, a corpocracy, "because it sounds prettier."
Wikipedia tells us this about a representative democracy, that which the founding fathers provided us in the constitution: "There are two principles that any definition of democracy includes, equality and freedom. These principles are reflected by all citizens being equal before the law, and having equal access to power, and freedom is secured by legitimized rights and liberties, which are generally protected by a constitution. There are several varieties of democracy, some of which provide better representation and more freedoms for their citizens than others. However, if any democracy is not carefully legislated to avoid an uneven distribution of political power with balances, such as the separation of powers then a branch of the system of rule could accumulate power and become harmful to the democracy itself."
Yesterday in 5-4 decision, Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts, and Justices Samuel Alito, Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas, and Anthony Kennedy gave corporations the same powers of those of human beings, in so far as equating "free speech" to funneling the unlimited millions of dollars in their general funds toward influencing elections within this country.
What does that mean?
Yesterday our usual Thursday Cooking Club was canceled due to Paul and Erin being involved in a Bike Clinic that Paul had arranged from noon until 4 o'clock. Paul had gotten a gentleman from some bike shop to volunteer his time and expertise to fix the various bicycles the residents of the hotels may have that needed repairs. I walked over through the pouring rain to the Defiance Space to take a look at the proceedings, although I do not own a bike. I got there a little after noon, when very few people had arrived as of yet, just Paul, Robert, and one other gentleman I did not know. Snacks were provided. Cokes, bottles of water, donuts, and chips. Erin soon arrived and ate her lunch of Ramen noodle soup (she likes to keep the noodles long, like spaghetti) and a nice donut. Others trickled in. The bike guy showed up with all kinds of bike repair paraphernalia, and soon the place was abuzz with bike repairing activity. Except for Erin. She sat by herself, reading from some book on recognizing personality types, and texting on her Iphone, looking rather despondent (I've noticed that young, pretty girls feel lost whenever they find themselves not the center of attention, especially in a room full of men). I observed the various repair activities for awhile, asked questions about repair techniques, even helped Robert get his bike all oiled up ("Watch where you spill that stuff, Bob. This is where we do yoga"). When I got tired of watching and decided to go home I walked over to Erin to get my umbrella.
"You know Erin today is an historic day in our nation's history," I told her.
"Oh why? What happened?" she asked.
"The Supreme Court ruled that corporations have the same rights as human beings."
She looked puzzled, frowning a little, before asking, "What does that mean?"
"It means we're screwed," I told her.
We both smiled, and I told her I would see her tomorrow and returned to my box during a lull in the downpour.
In the case of Citizens United vs Federal Election Commission, which primarily dealt with corporate funds being used to produce and exhibit a anti-Hillery Clinton propaganda film during her bid for the White House, the 5 activist judges (conservatives love to bitch and moan, decrying "judicial activism" any and every time a decision is made that does not support their interests. Yesterdays decision is a true example of judicial activism) that authored the majority decision in this case, irresponsibly, and overwhelmingly overstepped their bounds to inject more corporate power within our political processes.
Time and time again, whenever the subject presented itself on this blog, I've maintained that the foremost problem this country faces is a dysfunctional political process, fostered by the federal governments dependence, and desire for the infusion of mass sums of money by special interests, and that the only possible solution to this problem, achievable through election reform is by way of publicly funded campaigns. Get corporate and special interest cash, the legal form of blatant bribery that now exists, out of the system. That is the only way our government can work to solve the myriad amount of problems this nation faces. The apparent failure of health care reform being a prime example of the current dysfuncionality our government now enjoys. But no one was talking about campaign finance reform. No one except maybe Thom Hartmann, and myself, and no one listens to me... not even my invisible cat Herkermer.
After yesterday's Supreme Court decision, they sure are talking about it now. And the trickle of cash that corporations could throw into the process yesterday, is nothing to what can happen today.
Today the flood gates have opened and our country may drown.

To be continued.

How I Got Here

The following is an excerpt from an Email I sent to a very dear friend of mine who found me two days ago through these wonderful social networking systems like Facebook and My Space. Her name is Michelle, currently works as a flight attendant, and I haven't seen her in 17 or 18 years, and will tell that story soon. But since I've never told the below story before, I offer it:



First and foremost... and I've been thinking about how I should break this to you, or if I should even mention it, but I will always strive to be completely honest with you in all matters. Okay, here it goes... I have not been able to get through the copy of "Lonesome Dove," that you gave to me... yet. I'm still working on it though, and I have seen the mini-series with Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones, and I do own a copy, as a matter of fact I'm looking at it right now. It's looking back at me in a taunting fashion. I promise to redouble my efforts.

Okay, I'm glad that's off my chest. It's been bothering me for years. Time to move on.


By the way, I haven't had a cigarette this morning and feel fine. Not grumpy at all. Just the opposite in fact. I feel serene. Perhaps it's your influence and example. See, you've helped me once again. I had a little over two years before November, time to stop again because I always feel better when I don't smoke.


Alright, my sad tale: I was suspended from my job at the ARC for smoking a cigarette in the Sample Room of the residence after the Salvation Army had instituted a strict no smoking policy. My friend Reuben Smith (remember him?), then my assistant, turned against me and ratted me out. I was dismissed as manager, put on leave, where I promptly relapsed with booze. The Administrator was unsympathetic. It didn't help matters the he knew I had a crush on his wife, who had befriended me.


Anyway, I bounced around from ARC to ARC, Canoga Park to Carpentaria, where I got another desk job, and was assigned an intern for counseling named Julie, and we had an affair. She was my age, had an eating disorder, and basically used me to help end her 19 year marriage. She got pregnant, then my new counselor violated my confidentiality, told the administrator, I got the boot of course, and they dismissed her. She got an abortion and I relapsed. We remained close friends however for many years.


I finally entered a recovery home in Woodland Hills owned by a friend of mine. This would be the late 90s, 97, or 98, where I got a good job as a customer service rep (we both were, or are in the customer service industry I guess) at a company similar to AAA. I really liked it because I got to help people from all over the country who needed emergency road service. Very Satisfying, but they made a mistake and promoted me to a management position which I didn't care for as much. I relapsed, and moved to Bullhead City, AZ where my sister Cheryl lives, using settlement money (the city of Camarillo, where I lived threw me out of my apartment because they wanted to tear it down and build businesses, and had to pay me for it. I went back there a few years ago and my old apartment is still there). I drove into Bullhead on New Years Eve of 1999.


I got a job as an ATM tech, drove around all day getting the money out of ATMs and taking them into the banks. Had to wear a gun. My partner was a right wing wacko (it was Arizona for God's sake!), I wasn't getting along with my sister, got into money problems, relapsed, and moved, and eventually wound right back at the Pasadena ARC as a benecifiary. They threw me out after 26 days because they found out about the affair in Carpentaria. I was in the homeless shelter, Union Station, right down the street from the ARC, and was about to enter a recovery home when the first "Lord of the Rings" movie debuted.


You may not know this about me, Michelle, but I was a huge fan of the Lord of the Rings (now of course I'm sick of them) books, and had wanted to see this movie... real bad. So bad that instead of entering the recovery home I got drunk and went to the movie. For some reason they wouldn't let me in the recovery home after the movie was over. So I went and spent a few days at the USC hospital, went and saw the movie again while drinking a bottle of vodka, then checked myself into the Salvation Harbor Light facility here downtown. Now this facility was independent of the ARC system, so they let me in (at midnight). It was a wonderful place. All you did was go to three meetings a day, AA at night, no "Work Therephy." Stayed there for a year, got a job as a customer service rep for a company who contracted to the city to handle parking tickets.


Los Angeles is notorious for its predatory parking enforcement policies. They even had a PBS documentary about it. So my job entailed getting bitched at for 8 hours a day. One of the worse jobs I ever had, and the last one. Two months I lasted before relapsing.


I moved into the Weingart Center, in their Veteran's program, for another year. That was 2002.


My friend Ron (who I had met while still working at the Pasadena ARC. He had been the resident manager of the Los Angeles ARC before he relapsed and came to Pasadena) got me into the Las Americas Hotel, where I live now, under what is called the Shelter Plus Care program, which is just subsidized housing. I took my last drink the month I moved in, got interested in politics by the time the 2004 election came around, and started writing about it, social commentary, and science. I somehow, through no fault of my own, I assure you, got on SSDI for depression (who wouldn't be with George W Bush in office (if you're a conservative, I apologize, he is a wonderful man, doing fine work right now with Bill Clinton in Haiti!), got a computer, got that computer hooked up to this thing called the Internet, and on February 22 of last year began Joyce's Take. The rest you could say is... well documented.

What The F?!

Last night in a special Senatorial election in Massachusetts to see who would fill the seat previously held by Senator Edward Kennedy, and the democrats for the last 46 years, in a state considered in ways the most liberal in the nation, a state that just last year voted to send Barack Obama to the White House by over 21 percentage points, and whose junior Senator ran for President as a democrat just 4 years before; lost to a little known, upstart Republican state senator who has been compared to as a Dick Cheney mini-me, and which now topples the balance of power in the United States Senate from a filibuster proof 60 to 40, to a non-filibuster proof 59 to 41, and seriously threatens passing historic health care reform legislation.
What the F?!
How could this happen? How could the White House, the Democratic Senatorial Election Committee, and the candidate herself allow this to happen? I assume that all three were aware that this most important election was coming up, which is more than I can say for myself. That is that up until a few days ago there was no indication on the national radar that the election would be nothing else than a sure thing, remaining safely in the hands of the democrats, and ensuring that important legislation: health care reform, financial reform, climate change reform like Cap & Trade, would progress if not smoothly through the tortuous path of the Congressional law making process, than at least smoother. Hell, I've been sick and preoccupied recently and wasn't even aware the election was coming up until a few days before it occurred. That's not even okay for me... I should have been aware of a problem but wasn't. I should have been aware of the deteriorating situation in Massachusetts and should have been screaming about it since last December, when Martha Coakley won the democratic primary, made a pathetic victory speech, meekly invoking the memory of the great man who had preceeded her in the position she sought, sounding like Minnie Mouse with the bird flu, then taking off on vacation for several weeks. Sure she must have thought, for some reason still unknown to me, that the seat she sought would be safely hers no matter what she did, which turned out to be very little. After all, that seat had been safely held for the last 46 years, right? Massachusetts was the safest state in the Union for democrats, right? Yeah, I should have been aware of trouble brewing in that election, the opponent, Scott Brown quietly and surely marshaling his forces, building alliances, striking small, than deeper fissures in that stolid democratic wall. I should have seen that and commented on it, and indeed, I do hold myself responsible for the loss of the election, the future failure of health care reform, the loss of democratic control of Congress in the upcoming 2010 elections, and the eventual downfall of the entire nation, and civilization as we know it.
But I tend to place too much importance on my position. Gee, I live in a box off of Skid Row in LA.
And it's raining.
But I do enjoy this one cool slice of solace. It's really not my job to be aware of all that crap above and start screaming about it... well in a sense it is, but even if I were to have done it, it's certainly not my job, or am I in any sense in a position to do anything about it (other than scream). Other people are supposed to do that.
It appears that all three of those entities sited above, the White House, the Democratic Senatorial Election Committee, and the candidate herself were sick and preoccupied as well.
Still let's not let the voters of Massachusetts off the hook. They were the ones who voted Coakley in as the democratic candidate, then threw her under the bus when it came time to vote her into office.
Okay, despite the fact that Brown ran a chameleon campaign, using democratic colors at his rallies, and presenting his positions to sound more moderate than his history demonstrates he is (as did W.Bush in his bid for the presidency), despite the fact that media blow hards like Chris Matthews predicted and reported the election outcome as fact as much as a day before it occured, which must have influenced the very public that was expected to vote, and that even if Coakley ran a perfect campaign she still may have lost do to local concerns ("All politics is
local," declared Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill), and concerns with the national economic situation under control of a democratic President (forgetting the fact the downturn was inherited, and in a large part has been shored up by his policies), why in God's name would any thinking person believe that on a national level voting a Republican into office, thereby further hampering whatever possible progress that can eventually be made, make any kind of responsible sense whatsoever? If you have an answer dear reader please let me know, because I certainly can't figure it out. We vote Obama into office on a platform for "Change," give him a democratic Senate and House of Representatives (although I do admit their performance has certainly been at times shameful, especially the Senate), he begins the long process of cleaning up the mess of the previous Republican administration, then a year later because eveything isn't all milk and honey yet, we begin to take away his power to effect change because we're upset we haven't gotten everything we want fast enough. This type of behavior (and historical voting trend. The incumbent party typically loses seats in Congress in the next midterm election, which translates of course in losing the power to affect the policies the incumbent President was elected to perform in the first place, is an expected event) is that of a pissed off adolescent, not that of an informed public.
And whose job is it to inform the public? The Republicans certainly aren't shy about spinning their world view as fact.
Why was this election lost? Why has Obama's position been undermined. Because they simply weren't paying attention, like me.
I believe they're paying attention now.
I think we should all, myself, the President, and the committees responsible for running the elections for the two chambers of the democratic Congress, reread Sun Tzu's "The Art of War," in which he asserts that planning requires quick and appropriate responses to changing conditions. Then we may be able to appreciate Lord Toranaga's point of view near the end of the epic novel Shogun.
"It is stupid to lose...neh!"

The Day After MKL

The day after Martin Luther King's Birthday celebration this year is today, the nineteenth day of 2010. Birthday congratulations are in order for the lovely actress and singer, Katey Sagal, who appeared as Peggy Bundy in one of my favorite sit-com's, "Married with Children," and currently plays a main character in the scary biker show on cable, "Sons of Anarchy," which my lovely niece, Keri Lynn now enjoys, and who is naming her soon to be born son after another character from that show. Edger Allan Poe, Fritz Weaver, Ikuko Kawai, and Dolly Parton celebrate as well, along with many others I'm sure, and all of them are much older than me.
Lots of other interesting things happened on this date in history. The only time snow ever fell in Miami was on January 19th, 1977. As it happened, ("As it was supposed to happen," one of Kurt Vonnegut's character's was want to say), President Gerald Ford pardoned Iva Toguri D'Aquino, the infamous World War II propagandist known as Tokyo Rose, on that very same day. Indira Gandhi was elected Indian Prime Minister in 1966. In 1937 Howard Hughes set a new air speed record for flying from LA to New York in just 7 hours, 28 minutes, and 25 seconds, and the Confederacy experienced it's first significant defeat in the American Civil War at the Battle of Mill Springs in 1862.
Yesterday being a Monday, Martin Luther King Day was celebrated throughout the land, which was close enough to his actual birthday (the 15th), to still be pertinent. Being a civil rights purist, my lovely case manager, Erin, took the 15th off (called in sick) as well as yesterday, giving her a nice 4 day weekend which should leave her well rested for our yoga class later today.
Yesterday was thunderously rainy here in Los Angeles, something we don't handle very well ("Rain! What's that? Let me drive faster!") I spent the entire day inside my box nice and dry, watching "The Brady Bunch Movie," selected episodes of "The Invaders," on the SciFi Channel, The Ed Show on MSNBC, as well as Countdown and Rachel Maddow. Then a lovely movie staring Steve Zahn and Jennifer Aniston, entitled "Management," which had just been released in May of last year. I suffered a 60 second power outage, after which I watched "The Ugly Truth," a raunchy sex comedy starring Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler on my computer, which I plan on making a DVD of for Erin (don't blame me for the raunch, dear Erin. It was written by 3 women), while enjoying my dinner of a tuna fish sandwich and mixed veggies. I then watched the end of "Superman Returns," The Colbert Report, "Daylight," and the Cher episode of "The X Files." I finally dozed off near 3 in the morning, and got up an hour and a half later to start my day. It is currently 8:01AM real time. Good Morning!
I explain in detail my day yesterday (including by the way, getting a huge amount of laundry done, and catching up on Email) because it was the last day of my recovering from feeling rather ill for a while, demonstrating how boring and monotonous my life is, and installing my new modem (fiber optic!), which I bought from the good folks at AT&T, my former employers, and will now allow me to get back to work (finally) on a regular basis, and I apologize dear readers for the recent interruptions. Hopefully everything will be fine now.
Besides celebrating the the life of the great civil rights leader, other things in the news mostly concern the aftermath of the devastating earthquake on the tiny island nation of Haiti, which occurred one week ago on the 12th.
The 7 magnitude quake (as well as at least 33 recorded aftershocks, 14 of which reached magnitudes between 5 and 5.9) has ravished one of the poorest, and least able to cope nations, affecting over 2 million citizens, with fears of up to 200,000 deaths. It occurred near the capital of Port-au-Prince, destroying most of the hospitals in the area, closing the main seaport, and seriously damaging the control tower at the Toussaint L'Ouverture International Airport, hampering greatly relief efforts. Morgues have been overwhelmed and bodies remain lying in the streets, or buried under ruble. Residents are now searching for toothpaste, reported Keith Olbermann last night, not to brush their teeth, but to paste under their noses to keep out the smell of the rotting dead. The Red Cross and Salvation Army immediately called for international relief efforts with many nations from all over the world responding very quickly, including the United States of course, raising funds and sending personal and emergency supplies as fast as possible. All the while the right wing sociopaths like Rush Limbaugh mock our President's efforts at humanitarian relief, labeling it all a political ploy to gain sympathy from black voters.
Also today there is a special Senatorial election being held in Massachusetts, to fill the seat left open by the late Ted Kennedy. The race was allowed to get very close due to a lackluster campaign by the democratic contender, the state's attorney general, Martha Coakley, against Republican state senator, Scott Brown. Currently they are tied in the polls, with the corporate media giving the edge to Brown to keep up their ratings. A Republican win would tip the balance of power in the Senate, taking away the democratic 60 seat majority, and affecting their ability to pass legislation, including Obama's current efforts at health care reform.
Which may or may not be a good thing considering the watering down of the current Senate bill, it's health insurance industry friendly stance, and the Republicans plans to run against Obama care this year, vowing to repeal it.
It's all very confusing and gives me a headache. It's also very interesting. We shall see.
Maybe I should lie down for a little while, stick my thumb in mouth and take a little nappy. See ya later!

Sustainable Development 1

Happy 2010 everyone! This is the first full week of the new year, and a new decade (commonly believed, although some argue that this is actually the last year of the previous decade), and I am so happy to share it with you. I mean that quite literally, as I was reminded of how precious life is by watching Peter Jackson's new movie, "The Lovely Bones," and think I will always remember the line that came near the end of the film with chilling efficency, spoken by the murdered protagonist, a 14 year old girl: "I was here for a little while... and then I was gone,"
And so it is with all of us.
Today we celebrate the birthday of Sir Isaac Newton, who is 367 years old, a little over a year in years. Happy Birthday, Newt.
I was reminded of this fact after midnight this morning by the Google logo wherein an apple falls listlessly, bouncing once or twice on an invisible floor. It's good that the search engine company honors the achievements of this man who taught us about gravity, one of the four fundamental forces of nature, how the planets move through space, what the stars are made of, and how far away they are.
I'm currently reading a book written by one of Newton's successors, "The Theory of Everything," by Stephen W. Hawking. He's pretty smart too. Need to know something about that mini black hole that's been hovering in your backyard, you can ask him.
Okay, on to the subject at hand.
The first of the "Global Challenges," identified by the World Federation of United Nations Associations is this: How can sustainable development be achieved for all?
What is meant by sustainable development? The common definition is this: "Development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of the future generations to meet their own needs."
Sounds simple. A poor example of what is meant can be summed up by Newton's Third Law of Motion, "To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." Although the analogy is imprecise, by citing this I mean that many actions that I may take currently may have an appreciable impact, either beneficial or harmful, in the future.
For a simple example, if I withdraw an X (algebra! Isn't it wonderful?!) amount of dollars from my bank account now, will I have enough until my next payday? That's something many of us face all of the time, and any responsible person would seriously take the future into account when they withdraw resources, in this case money, in the present time.
The above paragraph would be an example of economic sustainability on a very small scale. Most would agree that there exist two other forms: environmental sustainability, and sociopolitical sustainability, though many indigenous people would argue a 4th category, being cultural sustainability.
And notice I use the word, "responsible," when describing an instance of successful sustainable development. Unfortunately, many shortsighted, selfish, irresponsible individuals hold positions of great power within the world theater. And remember this (see, Psycho), estimates of the percentage of the general population that may be afflicted by a sociopathic disorder range from 1 to 18, which translates to anywhere between 3 million to 54 million people in this county alone... 67 million to 1.2 billion on the planet. Possibly one in six who may not be openly violent, but harbor no feelings toward others, and are not capable of appreciating or displaying acts of empathy.
I see them all of the time on the bus when its so crowded that the isles are filled with standing passengers, yet there are those who will not scoot over from their isle seats to allow others to sit in the empty ones near the window.
Many of these people run large multi-national corporations. Many of these people are prominent politicians. Many of these people are led by the various propaganda outlets that these corporations and politicians employ and will do whatever they are told despite the obvious detrimental outcome, to themselves, to their children, to their children's children, to the human race... and thus movements are born. And for what? Money, money, money... sometimes raw power, or the power that comes with the accumulation of large fortunes. To pursue that goal without regard to the immense harm your actions inevitably produce is clearly not "responsible." How else can one explain the following:
Despite a scientific concensus that it was imperative to keep atmospheric temperature rises to no more than 2C at the recent Copenhagen Climate Conference, with representatives of 192 countries attending, including the largest polluters; the United States, China, India, and Russia, no commitments to emissions reductions toward actually achieving that goal were made, despite evidence indicating that a rising global temperature will surely lead to disastrous consequences, including vast flooding, famine, and disease outbreaks. Only a political agreement to recognize the danger and possibly look to address it at some future time was agreed upon.
Indeed, efforts by smaller African and other vulnerable nations to strengthen the effort by making further cuts in emissions and holding the temperature rise to 1.5C this century were abandoned all together.
Why? For political and economic reasons, and not the economic reasons that could be labeled as aiding economic sustainability, quite the contrary.
How can this in any way be considered a responsible course of action, not only for our own immediate future, but for the future of those who will come after us?
The answer of course is... that it can't.

To be continued.