Thursday, January 25, 2007

Get to Know Me!

You're not truly awake until the first fart of the day. In that spirit here is my first blog that isn't a regurgitation of a column.

Yesterday I filled out my Blogger's® Profile and one aspect of it ticked me off. I mean, I've done this kind of thing all over the internet and it's always the same. "What are your interests?" "What are your favorite movies?" "What are your favorite books?" Retch.

It's all about creating a jolly happy time and place. It's the Prozac Nation. It's telling me I'm welcome here to be as chipper and positive as all the other brain dead blissed out cult fodder.

OK. I exaggerate. But my point is, if you DON'T really want to know me you say, "Hey, Westofer, Dude, what do you like?" Whereas if you DO want to know me you lay off the dude-speak and you prostate* yourself before me, trembling. Then you wash your hands, filthy monkey, & you offer me a back rub, & you say, "Please, Wes, permit me to know what pisses you off, and all the things that you consider foul, and that spoils the Earth, so that I may do Your Will and Your Will Only and eradicate all of them to the last one and cause great pain to their nether regions on the way out."

So here are just some of my non-interests: I hate team sports. There's no i in team, because I'm not there. Why should I help someone else win something? Why should I even cheer their sorry asses on? I hate all spectator sports, even those involving individual competitors, unless those competitors are scantily clad females twisting their bodies in interesting ways. Female bodies twisting, Yes. Watching ego-bloated strangers compete for pointless points and medals, No.

I hate bigots. This includes not only the usual racists, ethnic bigots, sexists, religious bigots, and people who threaten to beat me up for not caring about the Seahawks, but also large herds of bigots on the fringes of Bigotdom. For example a person I know who says all baby-boomers are bigoted against younger people, is himself a bigot. I once praised the value of Viagra within a committed consensual relationship, and I got hate-mail from an idiot anti-erectionist bigot, who said erections cause rape. I found this most ironic having once been raped as a male-child by an adult (penis-less!) woman using a screwdriver handle. I guess she hadn't got the memo.

I hate ignorance. I don't mean stupidity, which is a great force of nature and inevitable. I'm referring to avoidable ignorance, that which you get by being too lazy to be bothered knowing the truth about matters you choose to meddle in. Ignorance adheres to people with power over others. "People with power" over others includes not only politicians but voters and members of neighborhood groups, if they are deciding policy that severely impacts homeless people. Such people need to stick to their own damn self-determination and stay out of other people's self-determination, until they have the wisdom and insight of gods, i.e. until the end of time.

Later, I will describe movies and books that I hate. Thank you Anitra, for setting this up and making all this possible.

*I spelled it right.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Adventures in Irony, Jan 24, '07

[Until I can redo and update my home website, I'll post these here along with whatever else.]

The Downtown Seattle Association, or the DSA, as we like to call it, has its “Have a [heart-symbol], Give Smart” campaign, with brochures and a devoted website at givesmart.org. Let’s figure it out!

The DSA says it’s about panhandling, which is about mostly non-homeless people wanting, “in many cases,” drugs and alcohol, and therefore you shouldn’t give them money.

I say it’s about begging. Panhandling is handling a pan. Begging is asking for money. Words have meanings, DSA!

Once we understand that they’re really talking about beggars, rather than pans, we can go to the next fundamental question. Namely, who the freakin’ hell is the DSA and why are they begging me not to give to beggars?

The DSA is an association of, at last count, 439 businesses located in or interested in Seattle. For example the New York City based Merrill Lynch is a member. They have offices here. US Bank is a member. They’re part of US Bancorp, which is headquartered in Minneapolis. Macy’s, which owns the former Bon, is a member. Nowadays they’re based in San Francisco. Tillicum Village and Tours is a member, reaching out to Seattle from Blake Island.

Almost exactly 25% of the DSA’s members are real estate firms. Nearly 25% more deal heavily with real estate firms. There are architecture & planning firms, law firms, banks, insurers, finance companies, and title companies. So about half are companies that profit not just out of a dedicated business site in Seattle, but from the money that flows from pocket to pocket when those sites are created, leased, and sold, and leased again and sold again, and again, and again.

So they’re begging, “Please, please, don’t give the beggars money. Help us send them away! They might scare off new businesses and we won’t make as much money as we want to. PLEASE let us make as much money as we want! We PROMISE neither we nor our children will use our profits to buy cocaine. We PROMISE we won’t use any of our profits buying other things we don’t need, like Italian shoes, Pinot Noir, jogging shorts, or canopied beds.”

Here’s what I think about the real estate business: It’s all stolen property, people! Remember who Seattle was? This land doesn’t really belong to these jackasses!

The Seahawks and Mariners are members. And, here’s your irony, so are the Oklahoma-group-owned Sonics and Storm.

I suppose the Sonics had no representative on the Give Smart Committee. Still, isn’t it odd that one of the most talked-about members of this organization that’s telling us beggars shouldn’t get money just begged for a sackload of money from tax-payer funds?

“How much of a sackload, Wes?” I’ll tell you how much. If you took all the money they’ve just asked the governor to help them pry from tax-payers and you gave it to Seattle’s street beggars instead, each one would get a minimum of $300,000 (assuming a high estimate of 1000 street beggars. There may be only 439, one for each business in the DSA.) That would allow them to all retire.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you should do the opposite of what the DSA says and go out and give the street beggars every dime and dollar they ask for.

I’m just saying, the various highly rich and some not so rich hotshots who run and own the businesses that identify themselves with downtown Seattle, who act like they ARE downtown Seattle, buy drugs and alcohol with the money they make off of this corner of the world. IN MANY CASES. That’s a fact.

You should consider that before you let them earn any more money than they really need for necessities like food, water, housing, and toilet facilities.

They’ll tell you it’s different for them precisely because they earn all their money (the Sonics, Seattle Opera, SAM, a hundred others, aside.)

But it’s not all earned! It’s made by dealing in stolen property. Never forget that.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Crazed Anatomy

The latest from © Dr. Wes Browning's columns for Real Change, Adventures in Irony:

Crazed Anatomy

Last month I fell and broke some bones. Ordinarily I wouldn’t mention a thing like that here, because broken bones are not everybody’s idea of a treasure trove of socio-political humor. I only mention it now because the breaks in question have had amusing consequences indicative of socio-political realities. I went to Harborview for treatment.

Due to a pre-existing mental condition (being nuts) I waited two days to go to Harborview ER. Forget what I ever said about Harborview, just now. I love Harborview ER. I love sitting on the bench for an hour waiting for triage. I love triage. I love waiting half an hour after triage to check-in. I love waiting another half-hour to be taken to a bed, probably in a hall next to a screaming man strapped and manacled to a gurney. I love waiting another half-hour for a doctor to see me for the first time, while I listen to a man at the other end of the hall scream “I am Hitler!” or, alternatively, “I am the light!” repeatedly for five minutes at a time.

I love being seen by random doctors whose names I can’t remember, there being as many of them as dancers in a Busby Berkeley spectacular. Somewhere well into the fourth hour I was led to the X-ray room, where twenty or thirty X-rays were taken, and all I could think was, “That’s a lot of film there. I hope they know somebody’s going to have to pay for all that film.” Then I waited some more.

Finally, a verdict: “Good news, Mr. Browning! You have contusions, swelling, lacerations, and (I forget the fourth thing), but you have no broken bones! Just get a tetanus shot on the way out and go home, and nature will slowly heal you, and the pain will subside by April!”

The next day I checked my phone messages, and found out that even as I was on my way home a doctor I hadn’t even met yet had called me to tell me they made a mistake reading my X-rays and my wrist was broken after all, so come back!

So I came back and I told the people in ER I was just continuing treatment from the day before, and they said, no problem: Just wait on the bench for triage, wait then to check-in, wait then to be led in, listen to the other patients scream, and wait then for a doctor to appear. Which I did as directed, so only four hours later I got the splint on my right arm I should have gotten the previous day. Then they said, go home, you’re done.

The next day I found out I had a phone call from yet another doctor even as I was making my way home. They had missed a break of my other arm. Please come back.

So I came back and I told the people in ER I was just continuing treatment from the day before, and the day before that, and they said, no problem: Just wait on the bench for triage, wait then to check-in, wait then to be led in, etc., and I said, “Right, so I’m living in an Early Medieval Irish folk story,” and I did it all as directed, and four plus hours later I had a new sling for my left arm, and effusive apologies from at least two new doctors I didn’t remember. I told them there was no need to apologize, this is material!

So right now you should be asking, “Alright, what’s your socio-political point, Wes?”

Well, I could say that my experience is just indicative of the state of health care in this country, but I won’t go there, because I actually appreciate the treatment, and I know mistakes happen to the best of us. Hey, I didn’t plan to fall, either.

But, think about this: what if I’d had no home to go to, and no voice mail to retrieve?

Saturday, January 13, 2007

walking through the shadows of the row part 1

In this world of fast moving technology, and new inventions, we have set our agendas only on one mission and that is to serve our own egos. have we forgotten about our fellow man, have we forgotten how to care and be compassionate towards one another. as I walk the streets of seattle washington I see the weary and tired faces of men and women who roam the streets of our city, I came from washington DC. a city very much in turmoil as seattle. however the many services available in seattle does out weigh what services that are available in DC. I have to ask myself sometimes. where have all of the jobs gone. why is there so much poverty in our nation. we are considered a superpower, but yet we ignore our poor. we say we are the greatest nation in the world. but our actions say otherwise. we say we are a nation of opportunity, but for whom are we the nation of opportunity for. americans born and raisied in this country have a hard time getting the main essential things needed to live on. but yet america says we are a land of opportunity. poverty and homelessness is rising to tremendous heights but yet america says there is opportunity for everyone. where is that opportunity that america speaks of. where is the generosity of the american people. veterans who went to fight for america, have now come home, and even they cannot find decent jobs and good wages. they are not treated with the respect that they deserve.
america can be a very cold hearted and ruthless place to live for anyone. when you are an honest person you are practically walked all over. maybe that's why people who are honest are in poverty, because of their honesty. religion in america has become big business, and is in many cases a corrupt system of organizing. in the case of many gospel rescue missions, this one rackett if you will how a hypocritcal form of thinking will control the weak. I have been across america and I see this sort of thing go on all of the time. and when a person speaks out against their system, that person is automatically banned forever from that property. and african americans are very easily duped into this type of hypocrisy. it is sad. because as an african american myself I see the brainwashing that my people endure. and who gets all of the gravey. the institution of course. as I go across america. why are so many african americans homeless. I have even written the NAACP concerning the issue. not once have I gotten a response. which comes to show that african americans don't really give a damn about one another. we blame this on whites, which in fact maybe true, but I still think that african americans can show more compassion toward one another. walking through the shadows of the row part 2 will continue later

this story written by August H Mallory

It's a new year!

And, hopefully, this blog is now going to take off! We have new members signed up... the Seattle group is putting together a show to be presented at Hugo House this spring... Real Change plans to re-start the Out of the Margins newsletter AND chapbook printing this spring... so there will be lots to talk about. :)