Chris Christie's press conference

Right now, I'm watching New Jersey Governor Chris Christie's press conference regarding the George Washington bridge fiasco. He is pissed alright. But he is confronting this head-on and showing his anger, for good or ill, and Obama might take some lessons from him. Most assuredly, he is not letting the whole scandal fester and get uglier and uglier by the hour.

Obama habitually waits for things to boil over and then frantically tries to cover up the saucepan after the whole stove is already a huge mess.

Christie is talking talking talking... how long is this press conference going to go on?

Larry McShane and Leslie Larson report in the New York Daily News:

An unusually contrite Gov. Christie emerged Thursday to offer an apology for the George Washington Bridge traffic scandal — and to fire a top aide, insisting he had no knowledge of her actions and was "blindsided" by the damning emails publicized Wednesday.

“I come out here today to apologize to the people of New Jersey,” said Christie. “I apologize to the people of Fort Lee. I am embarrassed and humiliated by the conduct of some of the people on my team.”

The governor then announced the immediate dismissal of Bridget Anne Kelly, the top aide linked directly to the bridge lane closures she boasted were retaliation against Fort Lee, N.J., Mayor Mark Sokolich, who failed to endorse the GOP incumbent last year in his re-election campaign.

“I terminated her employment because she lied to me,” Christie said bluntly.

Christie had since September insisted his staff was in no way involved in the traffic tie-ups and ridiculed questions about the “Bridgegate” scandal.

A media horde descended on the Statehouse in Trenton for Christie’s first public appearance since the scandal was linked to his administration.

The first reporters and camera crews arrived at 7 a.m., and the room was soon packed to capacity.

Just moments before the press briefing was slated the start at 11 a.m., sources told the New York Times the U.S. attorney for New Jersey, a post previously filled by Christie, will open an inquiry into the controversial lane closures.

RELATED: CHRISTIE’S WATERLOO

Kelly and a long-time Christie pal appointed by the governor to the Port Authority were caught in an Aug. 13 email exchange planning the roadway retribution against the mayor. “Time for some traffic problems in Fort Lee,” read the email from Bridget Anne Kelly. “Got it,” responded David Wildstein, who went to high school with the governor — and was appointed by Christie to a $150,000-a-year position as Port Authority director of interstate capital projects.

The resulting shutdown of two traffic lanes from Fort Lee to the George Washington Bridge caused massive traffic tie-ups for four days in the small northern New Jersey town.

The gridlock also slowed emergency response times for local ambulances, including one responding to a Sept. 9 call for an unconscious 91-year-old woman — who later died.

Christie, speaking in a calm and direct fashion in his Thursday confessional, said Kelly had lied when directly confronted about the incident.

Kelly “betrayed my trust,” he said. “I would never have come out here four or five weeks ago and made a joke about these lane closures if I ever had an inkling that anyone on my staff would be so stupid to be involved and so deceitful.”

Christie, while insisting he was blindsided by the emails, said he took the blame for the whole incident: “Ultimately I am responsible for what happens under my watch, for good and for bad.”

RELATED: 'WORST EXAMPLE OF PETTY POLITICAL VENDETTA': SOKOLICH ON CHRISTIE GW BRIDGE CLOSINGS

He also promised a Thursday visit to Fort Lee to deliver a personal apology. Christie — who also announced that he told his former campaign manager, Bill Stepien, to withdraw his nomination as state GOP chairman — insisted he played no role in the shutdown. “I had no knowledge and involvement in this issue, in its planning and its execution,” the governor said at the end of his 20-minute statement. “And I am stunned at the abject stupidity that was shown here. ... This was handled in a callous way.”

Christie, known for his take-no-prisoners political style, also delivered a bit of self-defense.

“I am not a bully,” insisted Christie.

Christie, taking questions from reporters, said he accepted at face value the statements made by his staff and his appointee at the Port Authority.

“I was told it was a traffic study,” he said. “And there was no evidence to the contrary until yesterday.”

Christie acknowledged there was no denying the nefarious forces that caused four days of gridlock at the world’s busiest bridge.

RELATED: PRESIDENT CHRISTIE? CROSSING THAT BRIDGE

Wildstein and a second Christie-appointee to the Port Authority have already resigned over the punitive lane closings — bogusly billed in a cover-up as “a traffic study.”

“It’s clear now that in the minds of some people there were political overtones of political side deals in this,” he said.

Sokolich, the target of the political payback, was never even “on his radar” during last year’s gubernatorial campaign. “Until I saw his picture last night on television, I couldn't have picked him out of a lineup,” the governor said. Christie’s choice as P.A. chairman, David Samson, was also implicated in one of the emails as helping to “retaliate” when the lanes were finally reopened. Samson issued a statement denying any knowledge of the nasty plan until it was over. The Port Authority, along with the New Jersey Legislature, is probing the act of revenge.

New Jersey’s Democrats have lambasted the bully-boy governor, charging that Christie was either lying or hiring people who lied to him. U.S. Sen. Cory Booker (D-N.J), the former mayor of Newark, called the claims against Christie "deeply troubling."

He's still talking, and I've had two cups of coffee already.

I think this will be going on for awhile. The press conference AND the scandal itself.

Hear that sound? Its the sound of Governor Christie's presidential hopes crashing to the ground.

~*~

Biographical aside: As I briefly mentioned on the air when we covered this story yesterday on the radio show -- back in 1978, I was unceremoniously and rudely thrown off the George Washington bridge (no, not bodily!). We were hitchhiking at the bridge-entrance when cops told us to cease and desist, or else. My friend and I had to go all the way back to the bus depot and try to hustle a ride across.

"No hitchhiking in Joisey neithahh!" the New York City cop warned us.

Eventually, some of Tony Soprano's friends (jokey joke) offered us a ride across. They were very nice, but a bit scary to a Midwestern kid like me. Nonetheless, their East Coast-authenticity (and their very nice vehicle!) was exciting to me.

Seriously, every time I saw the beginning of the Sopranos, I thought about my ride across the bridge into Joisey, onto the NJ Turnpike... it was so similar; the sunshine, the scenery, and even the cigar. :)

Lou Reed 1942-2013

After hearing the news today, I find I am still not able to rationally discuss the impact of Lou Reed on my life.

I remember someone once remarked that the Velvet Underground only had about 200 fans, "but every one of them, started a band." And so, the legend was born; Lou was a legend to other legends. It is hard to describe the impact his work had on those of us who felt marginalized, those of us on the outside.

In so many ways, you had to be there.

I got a tattoo inspired by Lou. Early in recovery, I decided I did not want to be that heartless junkie in the middle-section of Street Hassle, who declares he won't wear his heart on his sleeve, will not become emotional when faced with the death of a stranger.

I knew that I did want to be that person, and that desire, that hope, is what prompted me to save my own life, to search for something better.

I do want to wear my heart on my sleeve. And so I got tattoo of a heart there, to remind me.

Goodbye dear friend. It hurts so much to lose you.

~*~



Some people got no choice
and they can never find a voice
To talk with, that they can even call their own
So the first thing that they see
That allows them the right to be
Well, they follow it.

You know, its called
Bad luck.



(from Street Hassle by Lou Reed)

~*~

We will be discussing Lou Reed's life and work on the radio show tomorrow.

And I hope to play this:

Rock and Roll - Velvet Underground



You know her life was saved by rock and roll.

~*~

Edit and Correction, from the New York Times, it was Brian Eno who said it, and here is their direct quote:

The composer Brian Eno, in an often-quoted interview from 1982, suggested that if the [The Velvet Underground]’s first record sold only 30,000 records during its first five years — a figure probably lower than the reality — “everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band.”

~*~

EDIT AGAIN 10/28/2013: I was really surprised to find this on YouTube, because, well, it just defies description. It's an 8-minute (spoken) story, and ... to say more is to ruin it. (Just one thing: if you start listening, please continue to the end.)

However, I don't mind telling you, I know the whole thing by heart and can recite it verbatim from memory: "Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit..."

I have never before admitted that out loud. But there it is.

The Gift - Velvet Underground



PS: Happy Halloween! ;)

Stay safe!

Wishing all my friends up north, my very best!

Do what they tellya to do, okay? (I know, its hard to take advice from the likes of Chris Christie, but on this one occasion, listen to him!) There is actually snow in the North Carolina mountains before Halloween! That may be a first!

Love ya and stay safe.




~*~

Still at Sea, Storm Drenches East Coast (New York Times)

Hurricane Sandy grounds thousands of flights worldwide (CNN)

Hurricane Sandy speeds towards landfall (CBS News)

Damage from Hurricane Sandy could be catastrophic (USA Today)

Tracking hurricane Sandy: As storm 'zigs', it's also changing dramatically (Christian Science Monitor)

Color Fear

I watched an old interview of Jimmy Breslin on C-Span over the weekend, originally aired in 1991.

I just loved what he said, and decided to quote the last segment of the interview in its entirety.

It's as true now, as it was in 1991... as it was in the time he is describing, the 50s.

[C-Span CEO Brian] LAMB: You said earlier that you can't go a day without writing about and thinking about race in New York City.

[Jimmy] BRESLIN: Well, it hits you in the face in New York City. It's all there is.

LAMB: OK. Is the problem -- and I don't know whether you call it a problem or not -- but will the problem be solved?

BRESLIN: It's a very new problem, and we've got a long way to go with it.

LAMB: Why is it new?

BRESLIN: Well, it didn't start until -- when did it start in New York City? I told you a movie was made in 1950 that only had two blacks in it -- shoeshine people -- and now we're in 1991 and we're beginning to see how many are there. I found in doing the research for this book, the John Deere Company in Iowa gave me their company newspaper and a lot of old press releases from the largest train ever to carry farm equipment in the United States in whatever the year was then. It left Des Moines with 141 flatcars filled with the John Deere 99 cotton picker, and it went to the South, to Atlanta, where there was a huge civic celebration there, and it went all across the South depositing these 99 -- the first shipment, largest in the history of the nation. Each machine did the work of 90 field hands, and they went all across the South. Now, and here it came, into New York they came, these sad-faced women with their arms leaden from carrying babies and a long ride.

Day coaches from Jacksonville, buses from Spartanburg; they came from Durham, in the tidewater area of Virginia. Into New York they came and they changed the city. We were unprepared for them, the city was unprepared. The city didn't even know what was happening. Congressional people on agriculture committees didn't know what was happening. Nobody knew what was happening. It was a huge movement, and it happened without any public notice. Into New York they came.

Where else would you go if you were chased off a farm? Where else would you go -- to Knoxville or to Atlanta or to Boise, Idaho, or Casper, Wyoming? You'd go to New York! Where else would you come? And they came.

This was a city that had a reputation of feeding and clothing anybody who couldn't make his own way, but it never was prepared for this. Then at the same time you had into New York from San Juan, they came on the so-called chicory lights. It came in late night flights from San Juan, loaded to the gunwales. They landed -- the airport then was called Idlewild, not even Kennedy. The cold wind would blow across the tarmac from the Atlantic Ocean across Jamaica Bay, whip across them as they came out of these planes dressed in short-sleeved sport shirts and flowered summer dresses, the women. Somebody from the Bronx would run up and throw a coat around them. I remember there was the fellow mentioned here -- Jimmy Cannon, wrote that they were 'summer people in winter clothes,' coming into New York.

These two from San Juan and from the South together formed the greatest number of people to enter the city of New York that we ever had at one time -- greater than anything from Ireland or Eastern Europe or Southern Italy, much greater. All here, and we didn't know what to do with them because they weren't white. You could take a whole load of Jewish people from Eastern Europe who couldn't speak the language and dressed strangely with their beards and hats, and you could take them and put a statue and have songs and poems and pictures -- dramatic things. Extol them forever. You could take the Italians from Calabria and from Naples -- great. Couldn't speak English -- who cared? They were great. Any Polish that came in, great.

Here came Americans but they weren't white -- wow, here we go.

Now, that isn't that long ago that the real numbers started coming in. They were coming up in the late '40s and into the '50s, but when those trains with this farm equipment really started to come, now it was a crush and we got hit with it. Now we're in something that nobody has ever done before. We're trying to somehow survive and have economic and share economic and political power. We're not asking people to love each other. I don't think you're ever going to get anyone to love anybody anyway. Forget that. Let's just live together and see what happens. That's 100 years. When you say that's 50, 75 years easy, nothing can be done. It's going to be a long, long, long thing.

LAMB: Why do the whites and the blacks, when they don't get along, why don't they get along? What is the reason?

BRESLIN: Color fear on the part of the whites.

LAMB: Color fear?

BRESLIN: That's where it starts. Also stubborn refusal on that word "color fear" to realize it's one other thing to admit it and to do something about it.

You can tell a guy if he has a job just by looking at him. The guy walking up the street, if he's working, forget it. You can tell by a look. A glance tells you a working man, and a working man doesn't do anything but go home from his job. There's no crime if people are working. Unheard of. Nobody working at a job with any chance in life goes out and does anything wrong. They don't do it. It just doesn't happen. If they would have this color fear, if they would begin to put it in their minds that hey, you don't have to be afraid if the guy is working. The whole word is jobs. You know that. What am I telling you? You sit here every night and know it. What, am I telling you something new? That's the only political word worth discussing is jobs.

LAMB: We've only got a minute or so. If Damon Runyon were living today, would he have trouble writing?

BRESLIN: No, not at all. How could you have trouble with what's going on today? And also his style of writing going right down to the street, you'd come up with the same one word.

If the guy ain't got a job, he's not going to behave. If the guy doesn't have bread, he's going to steal it. Now, let's face it. He was writing about people who came in from Texas. Miss Temple Texas gets off a bus on a Friday, meets a guy and comes around on Monday morning with a brand-new mink coat and says, "Look what I found in the subway." Well, they were coming in from out of town and making it. Now, all you need is somebody coming in from the south end of Brooklyn, or his family that followed him, who gets ahead -- gets some bread and gets ahead in the world. There's no trouble. Jobs. He would understand that. If the guy is working, everything's all right.

I'm confident in that.

Hello America

I filed for an unemployment-benefits extension today, which I did not know was even possible. I learned of my extension-eligibility from a very helpful state employee at the Greenville-area One-Stop center yesterday.

And so, I girded my loins and prepared for today's long bureaucratic process at the unemployment office, where I have not been since November.

I am always somewhat obsessed with bean-counting the minute I enter the unemployment office. It is just so glaringly obvious. Today, about 50 people, give or take (very hard to count precisely, since people are constantly entering and exiting)... with only three white men in attendance, and they all appeared to be over 40. The rest of us, women of all colors and ages, and black men, all ages.

As I said, interesting.

Ever since I started counting, the results have been more or less the same.

My question: Are the young white men really staying employed en masse during this economic crisis, or are they too proud to apply for unemployment?

~*~

At left: Interior of Greenville Mall, around the time I worked there. (from Deadmalls.com)




The One-Stop center is in an old shopping mall, McAlister Square, that has been utterly transformed--you might say the building was recycled. I used to take my daughter there when she was a child; I recall St Patrick's Day and Halloween events that she loved. And now, when I walk in, it is still jarring to me that it is no longer a shopping mall. But I am so glad they managed to find some good purpose for it.

There is a website that I find fascinating, Deadmalls.com, since I am one of those people who actually worries about the proliferation of big-box stores and malls. I often wonder WHAT ON EARTH we will ever do with them.

Ever since I read JG Ballard's Hello America, I've wondered what these entities will be in 100-200 years from now. I imagine the enormous suburban office buildings chopped up into tiny apartments; I see the big-box stores turned into homeless shelters for hundreds of people... or possibly turned into hospitals, schools, or condos. What else could you do with them? Simply knock them down when they are no longer needed?

Greenville Mall, where I worked for awhile and had one of my fender-benders, is now gone; torn down some time ago. It was once the big deal around here, and now it is history. I think of it as a symbol of the fleeting nature of fads and fashion and why it's futile to try to be cool. (Buddhist aside: Empty malls that once attracted the moneyed young, filled to overflowing with hustle and bustle, are a good subject for anicca [impermanence] meditation.)

Cool lasts for a week or a day, and then something else is cool. I always tell people, I was totally cool for about an hour in the late 70s, during which time I visited both Max's and CBGB's. But the hour passed, and I descended back into my usual uncoolness.

It was a nice hour while it lasted.

Odds and Sods: Post-Thanksgiving edition

At left: I didn't mean to look so bloody GRIM! From Occupy Greenville yesterday, photo by wonderful Uma.



And we are still at it. For how long? I don't know, but I don't mind. I figure any lasting changes in our society will take a long time--and I figured that out a long time ago, as well. As it is, we are dealing with a society that often has no clue. People come out of the CVS and Starbucks and ask us what we are doing; they've never even HEARD of Occupy. Some Occupiers bravely went to the malls on the day after Thanksgiving, with signs instructing shoppers to "Buy Local!"--and various customers replied, "But we ARE buying local!"

Do they know that Walmart is in Arkansas? On some level, they seem to realize this. On another, they don't get it.

I think they are probably typical of the majority.

And we plow ever onward.

~*~

Back from Hotlanta, where I spent the holidays ingesting fabulous coconut cream pie and shopping in those amazing big-city thrift stores.

Some interesting stories for your perusal:

:: Occupy Atlanta occupied Lenox Square Mall, placing provocative "BUY NOTHING!" price tags over selected merchandise.

:: Highly recommended: Leonard Pitts column titled Seek holistic solutions.

:: Atlanta Journal-Constitution is all over Newt Gingrich's recent statements about immigration during the last Republican debate:

Gingrich has risen to the top of the polls recently on the strength of his debate performances and the shortcomings of other candidates, becoming the latest in a carousel of top challengers to front-runner Romney, the former governor of Massachusetts.

Rival campaigns pounced on the immigration issue as a chance to take Gingrich down a peg.

“I think there’s a major and legitimate difference of opinion on immigration between Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney,” said Romney adviser Eric Fehrnstrom. “Newt Gingrich supported the 1986 amnesty and even though he concedes it was a mistake, he’s willing to repeat that mistake by granting amnesty to today’s illegal immigrants.”

:: Amish Haircutting Attacks! The leader of the hair-cutters is named Mullet. Now, I ask you, is that funny or what?

Seven members of a renegade Amish sect face hate crime charges - and possibly life in prison - for a beard-cutting spree that terrorized fellow Amish in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana.

The sect's leader, Samuel Mullet Sr., and six of his followers, including three sons, were arrested in an FBI raid of their Ohio compound, the Cleveland Plain Dealer reported.

They also are accused of heavy-heavy handed tactics to keep sect members in line - including beatings, forcing members to sleep in a chicken coop, and having sex with married followers in “cleansing” rituals, the Associated Press reports.

Mullet and his followers attacked those in the wider Amish community who disagreed with his sect’s interpretation of the faith, according to law enforcement officials.

The hair-cutting attacks, carried out with scissors and battery-powered clippers, were a particularly horrific affront in the Amish community, whose religious beliefs call for men to stop shaving their beards once they marry.

"You've got Amish all over the state of Ohio and Pennsylvania and Indiana that are concerned. We've received hundreds and hundreds of calls from people living in fear," Jefferson County Sheriff Fred Abdalla told reporters at a news conference Wednesday. "They are buying Mace, some are sitting with shotguns, getting locks on their doors because of Sam Mullet."

Mullet justified the shearings to the Associated Press as retaliation for what he percieved as violation of Amish orthodoxy.

So much for those peaceful Amish we always heard about.

At left: a still from WSPA-TV, I am on the far left (as always) holding yellow sign, as in the above photo.


:: Interesting tax loophole has allowed New Yorkers to save money on roll-your-own tobacco, even though they technically aren't rolling their own, machines are:

NEW YORK – There is no place in the U.S. more expensive to smoke than New York City, where the taxes alone will set you back $5.85 per pack. Yet, addicts who visit Island Smokes, a "roll-your-own" cigarette shop in Chinatown, can walk out with an entire 10-pack carton for under $40, thanks to a yawning tax loophole that officials in several states are now trying to close.The store is one of a growing number around the country that have come under fire over their use of high-speed cigarette rolling machines that function as miniature factories, and can package loose tobacco and rolling papers into neatly formed cigarettes, sometimes in just a few minutes.

The secret to Island's low prices is simple: Even though patrons leave carrying cartons that look very much like the Marlboros or Newports, the store charges taxes at the rate set for loose tobacco, which is just a fraction of what is charged for a commercially made pack.

Customers select a blend of tobacco leaves, intended to mirror the flavor of their regular brand. Then they feed the tobacco and some paper tubes into the machines, and return to the counter with the finished product to ring up the purchase.

The savings come at every level. Many stores sell customers loose pipe tobacco, which is taxed by the federal government at $2.80 per pound (450 grams), compared with $25 per pound for tobacco made for cigarettes. The shops don't pay into the cigarette manufacturer trust fund, intended to reimburse government health programs for the cost of treating smoking-related illness. And the packs produced by "roll-your-own" shops are generally also being sold without local tax stamps, which in New York include a $1.50 city tax and a $4.35 state tax.

New York City's legal department filed a lawsuit against Island Smokes on Nov. 14, arguing that the company's Manhattan store and another on Staten Island are engaging in blatant tax evasion.

Busted!

Doncha know, the government will ALWAYS take their share? Nice try though!

~*~

I listen to my "Truckin with Albert Collins" CD when I travel! Now I have his infectious, curlicue 60s blues riffs lodged in my head.

Sharing the dreaded Thanksgiving earworm!

Shiver and Shake - Albert Collins



Kool Aide - Albert Collins

Iraq war veteran's skull cracked at Oakland Occupy

Scott Olsen, Oakland Occupier and member of the advocacy group for veterans Iraq Veterans Against the War, is now in critical condition.


I hope Fox News and other conservatives who encouraged the violence, are happy about that. They kept banging the drum for police intervention and bloodshed, and now the blood is flowing, just what they enjoy most.

Relating a message from OccupyMARINES:

We at OccupyMARINES are asking ALL Occupy Wall Street members AND supporters to flood the Corporate media with pictures, videos, and personal stories of how troubling, disturbing, and WRONG the actions of the Oakland Police Department under the orders of the City of Oakland California Mayor Jean Quan, were in the violent attempts to disperse peaceful protesters at Occupy Oakland on October 25th, 2011. We ask that you ESPECIALLY mention how horrifying it is that an Iraq Marine Veteran was seriously injured and taken to the hospital with a skull fracture from a police projectile. This is your revolution, this is your fight, this is your mission, WE ARE THE 99% - TAKE UP YOUR ARMS - KEEP PUSHING FORWARD! - NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND!

OccupyMARINES

~*~

I think this shows us that patriotism will not help us, when the authorities decide to clear the area. For all the blather that they care about the veterans, they certainly don't care about injuring one.

This is what the words of the government are worth, people. PAY ATTENTION.

This is how they will repay you for fighting in their filthy wars. PAY ATTENTION.

This is what they really think of veterans: you are cannon fodder. They will get rid of you as quickly as any of us.

This is what freedom of speech has come to in the USA: A sham.

I remember Karl Marx called the American system, "The Democratic Sham"... yes, we have come to the point where we are quoting Marx.

Apparently, as in so much else, he was right about that.

~*~

Links regarding the brutal attack on Occupy Oakland and Occupiers nationwide:

Cities crack down on Occupiers (New York Times)

Occupy Oakland livestream (hope you have better luck with it than I have)

Occupy Oakland: Iraq war veteran in critical condition after police clashes (Guardian UK)

New York City Live Stream-- apparently this showed some action earlier, but now just shows traffic. I guess when hoopla starts, they switch to lower Manhattan. (beware annoying, periodic feedback)

Chemical Bomb tossed into Occupy Portland (Maine) encampment (Portland Press Herald)

Occupy Oakland: Did police use flashbangs and rubber bullets on protesters? (Washington Post blog)

Occupy Oakland: Veteran Scott Olsen’s injuries prompt internal police review (Washington Post blog)



This is a petition, which is more of the Democratic sham, but I figured I would link it on the outside chance that fascists pay attention to petitions. (Since they are Jean Quan's henchmen in the first place, why would she investigate?)

Tell Oakland Mayor Jean Quan: Condemn and investigate police brutality!

EDIT: I started writing this last night and finished it this morning (Oct 27th) so it is backdated by about 13 hours. Just noticed that, and sorry about the delay in publising.--DD

A quick note to the Occupiers: what not to do

Back in the day, the Yippies taught me how to behave if I was arrested, which I wasn't. I was also taught how to avoid arrest, what to say and how to act. After studying the tales of Amanda Knox, the West Memphis Three, and Dr Conrad Murray (currently on trial in the death of Michael Jackson), I decided I needed to go over these points, especially since kids might be getting arrested in occupations all over the country.

As these cases point out, what starts out small could end up big, big, big. Never assume you are not a suspect in something else that you never heard of. Never assume that anything is "obvious"--nothing is. Never assume you could not be charged with something you didn't do, that such things are all in the movies. They aren't. Ask those three guys from Memphis, how it can play out.

Most important rule: Be polite to the cops. Do not insult them and call them flunkies taking orders, etc, as much as you might want to.

Keep in mind Orwell's society in ANIMAL FARM: the police were the dogs. Lots of people thought this was just his way of being mean and sarcastic, but really, he meant they were the guardians and watchDOGS of the state. As the late, great activists Ben Masel and Steve Conliff used to tell me: Remember, some dogs you can make friends with, and some you can't. Some are poodles and some are rottweilers. Learn the difference, immediately, as you would if you were trespassing in someone's yard. Because when you demonstrate against the state, you are perceived NOT as someone taking their own government into their own hands at long last, but as a trespasser going where you do not belong. It's wrong, and it's fascist, but it is nonetheless true in modern-day America. (Once again, the Founders spin madly in their graves.)

The rottweilers will be on the streets, the poodles will be behind the desks. Although the rottweilers choose the dangerous work, the poodles are the ones who often keep things running smoothly and make countless internal decisions. BE NICE TO THEM. They are working people, just as we are, worried about their pensions and retirement, just as we are. Many are in deep sympathies with the occupation. Do not antagonize them. Establish connection ASAP; if you are a New Yorker, talk about New York with the New York cop: "Where did you grow up? What neighborhood are you from?" As New Yorkers know, neighborhoods are important. Listen to them, did he say "How bout them Yankees?" to somebody, as he was booking you? You LOOOVE the Yankees. Yes, you do!

Does he have tattoos? Ask about them, show him yours, talk about them. If you have children, mention them, and if he mentions that he has children, chat about them.

From Occupy Together.



If you are a veteran, talk about this immediately (ideally, you should be wearing a button that announces this)... asking about his everyday-weaponry is a good intro to letting a police officer know this about you. If you are a Republican, try to stick this into the conversation too, "Wow, I didn't know they arrested Republicans!" and laugh about it. If you write a blog, say so: "This will be a hellacious story on my blog! Well, I wanted hits, now I'll get em!" (I know at least one person who believes this fact cut her loose; they didn't want to read about themselves.) If you do write a blog, segue into blogger mode at the time of arrest: get names of all arresting officers and their job descriptions, ask "Can I quote you on that?" Alternative newspapers had this role, back in the day. And I think it is likely very much the same today: They simply would rather not deal with you.

And finally, we get to Dr Murray, Amanda and the West Memphis Three. Study and learn from their mistakes.

Seriously. I hope I do not have to tell you not to start making out with your also-arrested significant-other in the police station, even if the whole police-inquisition thing makes you hot. DO NOT DO THIS. Amanda will back me up, I'm sure.

Do NOT call your girlfriends on the phone while you are in the police car. DO. NOT. DO. THIS. Turn off the phone and give the situation your full attention. Dr Murray NOW knows, they were listening to his sexy phone calls and ready to throw the book at him... but at the time, he just thought "Wow, what a mess!" The fact that he has so many girlfriends and so many kids, is now being used as evidence against him: See, he needed the money and so didn't challenge Michael Jackson's drug demands. It is doubtful the prosecution would even have formulated this line of prosecution, if he hadn't serially-phoned all his girlfriends (even in the ambulance, can you BELIEVE?) and attracted copious police attention in doing so. THEY CAN USE ANYTHING AGAINST YOU and it isn't simply what you say, but what you DO. Therefore, do as little as possible.

Damien Echols (of the West Memphis Three) recently talked about how his flip, heavy-metal teenage attitude made things worse for him, at the time of his arrest. If you dress like a goth (as he did), DO NOT DO THAT for your trial. Look like the most wholesome person in the world. Buy eyeglasses and look calm. I've written about how I had to put a rosary in my car to keep from getting run over or beat up (due to lefty bumper stickers) here in hyper-conservative upstate South Carolina. You might consider wearing a cross or a crucifix. (a cross in the south, a crucifix in New York)

Do not wear a t-shirt that is too incendiary, gross or insulting. If anything, I would counsel one that starts conversation. Some old-school demonstrators think it is always best to wear one associated with a group, since this makes you appear like a member of the group (even if you aren't) and thus protected. (An unaffiliated demonstrator is a sitting duck, DO NOT go in there alone or without back-up!) I have an Amnesty International shirt that I keep for just such occasions: AI members are the LAST people they want in their jail. Too much aggravation! I know it saved me on at least one occasion.

Most important: Do not be proud, lose the ego. This is not just about you. You are doing this for US; you are doing this for ME. You are representing all of us, the disenfranchised 99%.

I am proud of you, so please make me even more proud: please be careful and watch your backs. We need you here with us, whole and strong.

Good luck, and I love you. Namaste.

Declaration of the Occupation of New York City

From Occupy Together.

Published on Sunday, October 2, 2011 by NYC General Assembly

Declaration of the Occupation of New York City
by NYC General Assembly

This document was accepted by the NYC General Assembly on September 29, 2011, with slight adjustments in wording on October 1, 2011:

As we gather together in solidarity to express a feeling of mass injustice, we must not lose sight of what brought us together. We write so that all people who feel wronged by the corporate forces of the world can know that we are your allies.

As one people, united, we acknowledge the reality: that the future of the human race requires the cooperation of its members; that our system must protect our rights, and upon corruption of that system, it is up to the individuals to protect their own rights, and those of their neighbors; that a democratic government derives its just power from the people, but corporations do not seek consent to extract wealth from the people and the Earth; and that no true democracy is attainable when the process is determined by economic power. We come to you at a time when corporations, which place profit over people, self-interest over justice, and oppression over equality, run our governments. We have peaceably assembled here, as is our right, to let these facts be known.

They have taken our houses through an illegal foreclosure process, despite not having the original mortgage.

They have taken bailouts from taxpayers with impunity, and continue to give Executives exorbitant bonuses.

They have perpetuated inequality and discrimination in the workplace based on age, the color of one’s skin, sex, gender identity and sexual orientation.

They have poisoned the food supply through negligence, and undermined the farming system through monopolization.

They have profited off of the torture, confinement, and cruel treatment of countless animals, and actively hide these practices.

They have continuously sought to strip employees of the right to negotiate for better pay and safer working conditions.

They have held students hostage with tens of thousands of dollars of debt on education, which is itself a human right.

They have consistently outsourced labor and used that outsourcing as leverage to cut workers’ healthcare and pay.

They have influenced the courts to achieve the same rights as people, with none of the culpability or responsibility.

They have spent millions of dollars on legal teams that look for ways to get them out of contracts in regards to health insurance.

They have sold our privacy as a commodity.

They have used the military and police force to prevent freedom of the press. They have deliberately declined to recall faulty products endangering lives in pursuit of profit.

They determine economic policy, despite the catastrophic failures their policies have produced and continue to produce.

They have donated large sums of money to politicians, who are responsible for regulating them.

They continue to block alternate forms of energy to keep us dependent on oil.

They continue to block generic forms of medicine that could save people’s lives or provide relief in order to protect investments that have already turned a substantial profit.

They have purposely covered up oil spills, accidents, faulty bookkeeping, and inactive ingredients in pursuit of profit.

They purposefully keep people misinformed and fearful through their control of the media.

They have accepted private contracts to murder prisoners even when presented with serious doubts about their guilt.

They have perpetuated colonialism at home and abroad. They have participated in the torture and murder of innocent civilians overseas.

They continue to create weapons of mass destruction in order to receive government contracts.

To the people of the world,

We, the New York City General Assembly occupying Wall Street in Liberty Square, urge you to assert your power.

Exercise your right to peaceably assemble; occupy public space; create a process to address the problems we face, and generate solutions accessible to everyone.

To all communities that take action and form groups in the spirit of direct democracy, we offer support, documentation, and all of the resources at our disposal.

Join us and make your voices heard!

~*~

Reposted from Common Dreams, and retweeted to the world.

How to help the occupation.

Wall Street Mocks Protesters By Drinking Champagne

I think this pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? Thanks to Bint for the video.



Also: Occupy Asheville has kicked off.

And: My radio podcast from WFIS today.

Hope your weekend is good!

One man gathers what another man spills

Hey you crazy kidz! I shall now explain another way the Tarot works, in addition to those ways we have already discussed.

I drew The Star today! Yeah! And now I am ready to rock and roll, recite the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, hike my beloved Swamp Rabbit Trail to a fare-thee-well and then go chow down at the Pita House. Exercise and healthy food! This is all because I drew the right card. If I had drawn this one, or this one, or God forbid, this one, I would just stay home and watch Turner Classic Movies, eating popcorn and fiddling on Facebook.

See how it works now?

To the skeptics who bray in unison (squawk!) self-fulfilling prophecy, I answer: well, no shit Sherlock! Whoever said that didn't count or wasn't a factor? You say this triumphantly, as if it nullifies everything, whereas to me, that is just more proof of how it works.

If all of these millions of people can express happiness with their very expensive placebos put out by pharmaceutical companies (some of which I subsidize with my taxes), then I guess I can blog about my placebos, which are just as good as theirs.

~*~

Going on record as very happy with the gay marriage decision in New York. Here is a cool article about the changes in the culture regarding gay couples and acceptance; those who seem to be unlikely supporters of same-sex marriage have had their opinions influenced by knowing someone who is gay: To Know Us Is to Let Us Love (New York Times)

I should be back to trashing Nikki Haley in the next week... what with murdering mommies taking center stage in our national consciousness, I all-but-forgot about the right wing governor attempting to gut our state economy even further... but rest assured, I shall be back on the case soon. (One wonders what ELSE she can find to destroy, but I'm sure she'll find something.)

~*~

I have been reading an amazing Buddhist text titled An Unentangled Knowing, written by the late Thai Buddhist lay woman Upasika Kee Nanayon (aka K. Khao-suan-luang). This text is part of the Thai Forest Tradition --which I think sounds as cool as the Catholic term "The Desert Fathers"--conjuring up visions of mystics who have left civilization to find their own way.

I had attempted the book many years ago and ended up tucking it away in profound spiritual confusion, because I found it unaccountably disturbing and weird. When I found the book again, I was finally ready, even hungry, for it.

It is, quite simply, the Buddhist book I've needed and have been waiting for. Many years ago, I had not studied the texts necessary to get to this point and hence, didn't understand a word. The concept of "emptiness"--in the West--tends to translate to NIHILISM, and no, it isn't the same thing at all. But I didn't truly understand this until last year. I am now ready to fully engage the text, and I have. I have carried the book with me for about two months, reading and re-reading, studying carefully at every available moment and applying what I have learned to my meditations... and...

It has made me very happy!

Not sure why.

But isn't that what we are really doing all this for, when its all said and done?

(The whole text is online here.)

~*~

Your fun Saturday afternoon tune--I've discovered this one goes really good with the Swamp Rabbit Trail--

Exodus (original) - Bob Marley and the Wailers



Movement of Jah people! (Is that the greatest thing you ever heard or what?)

Have a fabulous weekend and hope you find a little bit of The Star for yourself, too. See you on the Swamp Rabbit Trail!

~*~

*derivation of blog post title is HERE. I always assume people know this stuff, then they email me and ask! Sorry about that!

Headline of the year

In case you are one of the 5 people left in the universe who don't know what this refers to, background stories here and here.

Anthony Dellaventura 1948-2010

I don't remember our first conversation, but it was probably about Catholicism. Later, we moved on to every other subject in the universe. But in the beginning, I can remember that we were discussing health supplements and alternative medicine (he was an almost-daily customer in the store where I work), when the rather intimidating ex-NYPD cop suddenly reached out and touched the St Jude medal I was wearing.

"Patron saint of lost causes," he mused, in his heavy New York accent. Luhwust Cuhwuzzes, is how it sounded to me.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Are you a lost cause?" his voice turned suddenly gentle, and I was caught off guard.

"Probably," I admitted.

He narrowed his eyes. "You are not. You are a very intelligent and beautiful person." He seemed to be speaking very honestly, and I was struck silent, which never happens. I was embarrassed to be complimented.

"You don't believe me," he was inspecting my face. All at once, I was aware that he had been a professional interrogator. "You believe what all these assholes say," he waved his hand around, as if to encompass the whole world (and particularly the Catholic Church) in "all these assholes" and I laughed.

He narrowed his eyes again, "Really. It isn't funny. You do. Well, don't. They dunno shit." And then he smiled. An amazing, award-winning smile.

And for a few years, Tony Dellaventura brightened my life. I saw him nearly every day. He drove an enormous custom Harley-Davidson and dressed in leather; tattooed from head to toe, able to bench-press 200 lbs at age 60, he was a striking figure. His name was Snake; the name tattooed on his throat, right above a snake. It was a long time before I knew his real name.

"Are you tattooed everywhere?" I once asked, curious.

"Every inch," he assured me. And he said he had a dragon down below, the dragon's tail becoming, well, you know.

I'm sure my eyes popped, "Didn't that hurt?!?"

"Oh hell yes," he said, matter-of-factly.

We argued about politics mostly, after it was discovered that we were in near-total opposition, yet agreed on certain libertarian basics: Let people have their guns, their dirty movies, their weed. (The mention of weed being illegal made him roll his eyes.) He particularly liked Ron Paul (as I wrote here once before), and was suitably impressed that I had gone to the Peace Center Amphitheater to hear Congressman Paul speak, even as a lefty. We would argue until we were interrupted, or until he would get thoroughly pissed off and walk away from me. But he was never rude.

Sometimes he would return later in the day, "And another thing..." and reply to what I had said earlier. He always heard me out and let me make my point, sometimes granting that I was right. It was during these conversations that I would hear references to his experiences as a cop; things he had seen that influenced his views in often surprising ways. Even as a fairly right-wing guy, he would freely admit (for instance), that gay people were unfairly targeted, since he had seen it himself so many times. And his New Yorker-honesty and bluntness always impressed me a great deal, since it was steeped in the harsh reality of what he had actually witnessed.

He ate a very healthy diet, almost fanatically so. When he told me he had pancreatic cancer, I was shocked; he seemed like Iron Man. (I knew the odds and I was upset.) And after that, Tony lost weight rapidly. He went back to New York City for treatment, then returned to South Carolina. I wanted to take his photo at one point, but he wouldn't let me, "I don't look so good right now, wait until I look a little better."

I didn't see him after that.

From Tony's obituary in the Staten Island Advance:

STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — Anthony (The Snake) Dellaventura, 62, of Huguenot, a lifelong Staten Islander and a retired NYPD detective and private investigator whose rough-and-tumble workdays were dramatized in the television show “Dellaventura,” died Thursday in Calvary Hospital’s hospice in Brooklyn, after a long battle with pancreatic cancer.

I have never seen the TV show named after him, but I loved knowing someone who was the subject of a TV series.

He was exactly the sort of larger-than-life personality that great TV-characters are made of.

Mr. Dellaventura joined the NYPD in 1969. After two years in uniform, he spent five and a half years as a plainclothes anti-crime officer, charged with posing as a drug dealer. Described as a “cop’s cop,” he later was assigned to the Organized Crime Control Bureau, and was promoted to detective in 1981.

A fourth-degree black belt in martial arts and a weapons expert, he had been in a shootout with a robber in the parking lot of the Staten Island Mall.

Upon his retirement in 1984, he opened his own private investigation company and was hired by attorneys trying to uncover hidden funds during divorce cases, property owners looking to rout crack-dealing squatters, and film studios who wanted to destroy bootleg copies of new releases being sold by vendors on city streets.

The secret to his success in business, he once told the Advance, is being both a good sleuth and establishing confidence and good faith with clients.

Known as “The Snake,” he told New York Magazine in a 1992 profile that his friends gave him the nickname “because of the way I strike, like a cobra. But you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to beat someone up or kill somebody.”

He also said he was willing to do anything necessary for a case, as long as it didn’t include breaking any laws. Instead, Mr. Dellaventura’s hulking physical presence and intense face — he rarely cracked a smile — were often enough to intimidate even the most hardened criminal.

Actor Danny Aiello portrayed him in the drama “Dellaventura,” which recreated some of Mr. Dellaventura’s real-life cases during its run on CBS from late 1997 until early 1998. The episodes were based on events straight out of the detective’s caselog, with details changed for confidentiality.

Mr. Dellaventura told the Advance in an interview when the show debuted that he was pleased with Mr. Aiello’s performance, noting the actor resembled him physically — minus Mr. Dellaventura’s collection of more than 240 tattoos, which would have taken a makeup artist hours to recreate.

Mr. Dellaventura also served as a bodyguard for notables including Jack Dempsey, Sid Caesar and Harry Connick, Jr.

A deeply committed, born-again Christian, he was an active member of Faith Fellowship Ministries in Sayreville N.J., and Grace Fellowship Ministries in Greer, S.C., where he had a second home.

“He was just a tremendous friend to people,” said his wife, Susan. “You could call him at 3 in the morning and he would get up and drive to California to come to your aid.”

Mr. Dellaventura’s passions were rooting for the New York Yankees, riding his Harley-Davidson through the mountains of South Carolina, boxing, and watching old movies.

Most of all, he loved spending time with his family.

Surviving, along with his wife of 20 years, the former Susan Villani, are his sons, Anthony, Philip, Nicholas and Salvatore, and his daughter, Lucianne Dellaventura.

I met Susan and Salvatore, but not the rest of his family. My thoughts and prayers are with them.

I will miss you, my friend, as well as our spirited arguments and your solemn promise that you would settle the hash of anyone who messed with me. Your wild tattoos and multicolored, humongous Harley, making all kinds of rumbly noises in the parking lot. Must be Snake, I would think.

Reflexively, I sometimes still think it's you.

There are only a few in the world like you. So few. If you have indeed found that Afterlife we so often argued about, put in a good word for your favorite Lost Cause. I love you, and we sure do miss our favorite ex-NYPD cop here in Carolina.

Rest in peace.

Jill Johnston 1929-2010

At left: From Jill's website.





I started getting a buncha hits on Jill Johnston, whom I have mentioned only twice on this blog. I didn't realize she had passed, on September 18th.

Quite honestly? I was not a fan of her feminism, but her writing was wonderfully loopy and totally terrific, like merry-go-rounds and Ferris wheels. She temperamentally seemed to be in direct opposition to the often-rigid, dogmatic 70s lesbian-separatism she championed. She did not become well-known until writing LESBIAN NATION: THE FEMINIST SOLUTION and decreeing that all women were lesbians, they just didn't know it yet.

And so, zany Jill, friend of Andy Warhol, Yoko and the Yippies, became a poster-girl for lesbian separatism, which was bloody weird.

The New York Times obit:

Ms. Johnston started out as a dance critic, but in the pages of The Voice, which hired her in 1959, she embraced the avant-garde as a whole, including happenings and multimedia events.

“I had a forum obviously set up for covering or perpetrating all manner of outrage,” she wrote in a biographical statement on her Web site, jilljohnston.com.

In the early 1970s she began championing the cause of lesbian feminism, arguing in “Lesbian Nation” (1973) for a complete break with men and with male-dominated capitalist institutions. She defined female relations with the opposite sex as a form of collaboration.

“Once I understood the feminist doctrines, a lesbian separatist position seemed the commonsensical position, especially since, conveniently, I was an L-person,” she told The Gay and Lesbian Review in 2006. “Women wanted to remove their support from men, the ‘enemy’ in a movement for reform, power and self-determination.”

At a debate on feminism at Town Hall in Manhattan in 1971, with Germaine Greer, Diana Trilling and Jacqueline Ceballos of the National Organization for Women sharing the platform with Norman Mailer, the moderator, and with a good number of the New York intelligentsia in attendance, she caused one of the great scandals of the period.

After reciting a feminist-lesbian poetic manifesto and announcing that “all women are lesbians except those that don’t know it yet,” Ms. Johnston was joined onstage by two women. The three, all friends, began kissing and hugging ardently, upright at first but soon rolling on the floor.

Mailer, appalled, begged the women to stop. “Come on, Jill, be a lady,” he sputtered.

The filmmakers Chris Hegedus and D. A. Pennebaker captured the event in the documentary “Town Bloody Hall,” released in 1979. Mary V. Dearborn, in her biography of Mailer, called the evening “surely one of the most singular intellectual events of the time, and a landmark in the emergence of feminism as a major force.”

Now, was that a fabulous Yippie action or wasn't it?


Photo of Jill Johnston from culturevulture.net


Johnston also wrote a famous article in Ms magazine, basically trashing gay men and proclaiming drag was "mockery"--unfortunately, she was the one who started that whole meme. This was when I parted company with her, Yippie roots or no, because it seemed to me, drag was subversive and pro-feminist.

Johnston later became obsessed with locating her father, which I found rather bizarre for a separatist. In fact, let me be clear: it pissed me off. Someone who rants and raves about men for a decade, gets all gooey over DAD?!? You gotta be kidding me.

And she never seemed to see any inconsistency in that. Thus, I lost respect for her as a feminist, but never as a writer.

NYT again:

Ms. Johnston continued to write on the arts but took a strong political line with a marked psychoanalytic slant evident in “Jasper Johns: Privileged Information” (1996), which explored the artist’s works as a series of evasions and subterfuges rooted in conflict about his homosexuality, and in the two volumes of her memoirs: “Mother Bound” (1983) and “Paper Daughter” (1985), both of them subtitled “Autobiography in Search of a Father.”

Jill Johnston was born on May 17, 1929, in London and taken to the United States as an infant by her mother, Olive Crowe, after her father abandoned them both. She was reared by a grandmother in Little Neck, on Long Island.

Throughout her childhood she believed that her parents had divorced, but in 1950, when The New York Times ran a short obituary about her father, an English bell maker named Cyril F. Johnston, she learned the truth.

Her mother informed her that she and Johnston had never married. A lifelong fascination with this absent figure, whose company, Gillett & Johnston, supplied bells and carillons to churches and cathedrals all over the world, motivated her to write “England’s Child: The Carillon and the Casting of Big Bells” (2008), a biography of her father and a history of bell making.

Note to Jill: fascination with papa is not feminist. And why are you allowed to get all sentimental about daddy, but *I* am not supposed to like drag or sleeping with men? Hmph.

But there is still the art and the ego that obviously made the art possible:

She developed a singular prose style — what the writer Pattrice Jones, writing in the Web magazine LesbiaNation.com in 1999, called “part Gertrude Stein, part E.E. Cummings, with a dash of Jack Kerouac thrown for good measure.”

One 1964 column began: “Fluxus flapdoodle. Fluxus concert 1964. Donald Duck meets the Flying Tigers. Why should anyone notice the shape of a watch at the moment of looking at the time?”

Ms. Johnston would soon shed this style and her amorphous politics, which she described in “Lesbian Nation” as her “east west flower child beat hip psychedelic paradise now love peace do your own thing approach to the revolution.”

In 1969, members of the Gay Liberation Front, correctly intuiting that the unidentified companion on her weekly adventures, chronicled in The Voice, was a woman, invited her to a meeting. Her political conversion began, and “Lesbian Nation” was published in 1973.

One of the best things I ever read about fame, was Johnston's account of her friendship with Yoko and John, and how Yoko couldn't go anywhere without John and vice versa. Jill wrote (paraphrasing) that if one was mega-famous, you could only be entirely yourself with people you loved and trusted, and then, you needed them around you all the time to remind you of who you really are.

I think of this concept often, whenever I think of the lack of privacy of the very famous. As a kid, I had wanted to be famous (like so many people) and after reading that passage as a teenager, changed my mind. It brought fame up close and personal to me, and I decided I didn't want any part of it.

Jill demystified and debunked FAME for me, and I owe her for that. That is why I am writing this.

Jill is survived by her spouse Ingrid Nyeboe, 2 children and 4 grandchildren.

Rest in Peace, Jill.

From Brooklyn to Bob Jones University...

I was attempting to psychoanalyze the tea-partiers, when someone helpfully Twittered this article from New York magazine, titled Clash of the Bearded Ones, Hipsters, Hasids, and the Williamsburg Street.

All I could say was: Whoa.

Simply change the names of the principle protagonists, and it could be right here in Greenville; instead of "Hasids"--insert "Bob Jones University"--and you have the ongoing Culture War of Greenville. It's utterly amazing how little difference there is between the two groups, right down to the clothes.

Fundamentalists have so much in common, regardless of the religion in question.

Like the Brooklynites, we also have the situation of the new arrivals... the oodles of mega-trendy folk moving into lofts converted from old textile and cotton mills. Who worked in those mills? The BJU people's kinfolks, that's who. As I also wrote here, it can be particularly galling to be called a redneck and priced out of the town you built, as well as the actual neighborhood you grew up in. This feud is also about class and class-mobility; global vs local, and a host of other issues.

As my regular readers know, I dislike the Bob Jones people, and I doubt I'd get on any better with the Hasids. But they were there before anyone else... and I think that does count for something. (We seem to believe that it does count when discussing Native Americans, but not when discussing fundamentalists who have lived in one locale for a long period, and made said locale the desirable location it has now become.)

From the article:

The hipster incursion began in the late nineties and was first written off as a fluke—some strangely dressed types poking around the abandoned warehouses and factories. The initial reaction, says Isaac Abraham, who has lived in the neighborhood for 58 years after emigrating from Austria (“Schwarzenegger country!”), was indifference. “Maybe the red carpet wasn’t out for them, but they came in masses and there was no objection from the community. Everybody went on with their daily lives.”

But after a while, says one Hasidic real-estate developer, “People started talking to the rabbis—‘Hey, something’s happening, all these young white people are moving in.’ ” When the Satmars [Brooklyn Hasids] realized that the Artisten—the Yiddish name they used for the bewildering newcomers—were there to stay, something like panic set in. Rabbis exhorted landlords not to rent to the Artisten, builders not to build for them. One flyer asked God to “please remove from upon us the plague of the artists, so that we shall not drown in evil waters, and so that they shall not come to our residence to ruin it.’’ Rabbi Zalman Leib Fulop announced that the Artisten were “a bitter decree from Heaven,” a biblical trial.

Yowza, it's the same language! And the same concept: a war with the Domestic Evildoers.

The hyper-conservative Bob Jones folks (and their fellow travelers) are especially fond of this Old Testament verse: "If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sins, and will heal their land."--II Chronicles 7:14.

They wear it on T-shirts and everything. If you were watching the various news networks' coverage of the recent tea-party rally in Washington D.C. (which they memorably held on the 15th anniversary of Timothy McVeigh's terrorist mass murder... aren't they just so cute with that shit?)*... then of course, you saw the t-shirt multiple times.

More from the article:

[In] 2007, came the bike lane, part of a citywide push to make streets more cycling-friendly. As bike lanes go, it wasn’t as plush as the ones springing up in Manhattan these days; it wasn’t even as nice as the one on neighboring Kent Avenue. But Bedford is Williamsburg’s main thoroughfare, and the pathway immediately found a thriving clientele. Morning to night, boys and girls whipped by Hasid minivans on their fixed-gears, hoods and hems flapping, thoughtful produce rattling in the baskets. It’s not that people didn’t bike down Bedford before, but the lane threw them into relief, marked them as a category.

The Satmars were incensed. Hasids are prohibited from looking at improperly dressed members of the opposite sex, and some complained that the women cycling through their neighborhood were an affront. “It’s a major issue, women passing through here in that dress code,” Simon Weiser, a Hasidic member of Community Board 1, told the Post. “Most Hasids have acclimated to living in New York,” says Sholom Deen, a semi-lapsed Hasid who, since 2003, has been publishing a blog called Hasidic Rebel. But each fresh bit of modernism—the Gretsch Building, the bus ads for Sex and the City—tends to touch off an uproar, he says, and the bikes were something new altogether: “It’s a direct intrusion.” The city, having spent $11,000 on the bike lane, appeared to encourage that intrusion, and the cyclists themselves seemed, if not improper, impudent. It felt like a seniority issue. “How long have you lived in the community that you now want to make the rules and totally ignore my opinion, when I’ve lived here for 50 years?” Abraham says. “You just got here. You either offer to help and do as the Romans do, or …”—and here Abraham goes into a spirited, if odd, impression of a spoiled young man—“ ‘I live here now. I lived here for ten years, and now I’m going to make rules for the entire community!’ ”

For a full year, the city seemed to ignore the hipster-Hasid war. Then, on December 1, 2009, came a sudden announcement. The Department of Transportation—under Janette Sadik-Khan, the bike-friendliest commissioner it’s ever had—was going to rip up “a small portion” of the lane between Flushing and Division Avenues, fourteen blocks in all. The deal to remove the lane is said to have been quietly brokered as far back as last April. Just about everyone’s assumption, including that of more than a few Hasids, is that Michael Bloomberg had needed the Satmars—who tend to vote enthusiastically and in a single block—in the upcoming election and that this was an easy bone to throw them.

On December 1, a crew of municipal workers descended on Bedford, sandblasting the lane and its stenciled biker figures off the asphalt. The next day, a group of three bike activists—Quinn Hechtropf, Katherine Piccochi, and a man we’ll call Ben—had an idea. That Friday night, around 3 a.m., they hit the street with aerosol cans and handmade stencils. According to Ben, more than a few Satmars saw them paint. “As they walked by, I made sure I said hello, explained to them that we’re not vandalizing the street, and asked if they wanted to help,” he says. “At first, they were a little standoffish, but a couple of guys had a sense of humor about it.” But by Saturday, fresh snow covered the group’s efforts, and the painters, encouraged by the adventure’s relative ease and cheered on by myriad bike blogs, decided to finish the job Sunday night.

Yes, a war over a bike lane. (You really need to read the whole thing!) I could easily see the same thing happening over on Wade Hampton Boulevard, which is why there will never be a bike lane over there.

And then, there is this side-account of some guys in a deli:

Right now, on a slow Thursday afternoon, the talk of the deli is Rachel, an 18-year-old Hasidic girl who “went off”—the local term for breaking with tradition.

“She got a huge tattoo,” reports Baruch Herzfeld to a gangly copper-haired cook in full beard and payess.

“No way,” says the cook, ecstatic. “No. Way.”

“Seriously. She shows it if you ask, too. Right here”—Herzfeld points at his thigh. “So fucking hot.”

The cook just grins.

I think this is what strikes abject fear into the hearts of all fundamentalists, and the author of the New York piece, Michael Idov, goes straight for it. I am thinking of that old hippie/biker bumper sticker: We have come for your daughters. Yes, this is the heart of it, and Idov knows it:

Herzfeld grabs his iPhone and opens Facebook, searching for photos of Rachel. The Hasidic Facebook is its own phenomenon, a parallel universe where the prim girls you see on the street in turban hats and snub-nosed forties shoes post their bikini snapshots and glamorously lit studio pictures. Herzfeld enthusiastically scrolls through his four-figure friend list, picking out the hotties for us to look at. “Esther. Hot girl. Her father is super-religious. The interesting part is how many friends they have. Look: 273 friends. Most of them are Hasidic guys.”

...

It is the undercurrent of thwarted lust beneath the Satmars’ pious exterior that’s causing the tension with the Artisten, Herzfeld believes (“Orthodox is you don’t want to look at a girl in a bathing suit. Ultra-Orthodox is you want to close down a beach”). And it’s also what will bring about the sect’s downfall, he says.

Herzfeld is convinced there’s a massive generational split within the Hasidic community...

And for the record, I believe this is true of Bob Jones University also. I've lived here for 22 years, and I've heard a lot of gossip; some of the kids can't wait to break loose, and don't waste any time doing it.

The internal inconsistencies certainly don't help, such as telling the faithful that Catholicism is evil, then paying the Church around a million dollars to get your son a Ph.D. from Notre Dame (?)... or claiming that Mormonism is an evil false gospel, all whilst backing a Mormon for president (?). Bob Jones (like the two Rabbis Teitelbaum of the Brooklyn Hasids) has one standard for himself, and another for the faithful. Very cultish, but seemingly acceptable to the cult. Go figure. One hopes that after awhile, they will wise up.

In any event, I am surrounded by conservatives, and I can feel their hostility towards the hip, young newcomers. I can also feel the derision of the newcomers, as they take for granted the beauty and good manners of the upstate, carefully crafted and cared for by the same people they despise.

Stay tuned, sports fans.




~*~


* Another internal inconsistency: we have tea-partiers claiming to be for law and order (or what Abbie Hoffman used to call Lawn Order), and openly celebrating a mass-murdering terrorist of 168 people. I ask you, would lefties be allowed to say "whoops!" and wink at the camera in the case of such a "coincidence"? Ha, not hardly. Why didn't they change the day of the rally? Obviously, this was intentional. Thank God, Bill Clinton didn't hold back.