The Closing of The Open Book

It is with a heavy heart that I report on the loss of The Open Book, the first place I ever worked here in South Carolina. It's the oldest independent bookstore in the area, and ever since the arrival of Barnes and Noble, its days have been numbered.

I am always amazed when the heavily-Republican upstate prefers big business retailers over small businesses, all while bleating the patriotic, pro-capitalist mantra small business is the future of America. Somehow, that never actually translates into trying to SAVE those small businesses by, you know, patronizing them to keep them from going out of business.

At least once a day I hear the phrase, "I can get that cheaper at Walmart." (I fight back the urge to reply, well yeah, if you wanna burn in hell for all eternity!) But it is telling that I can first remember hearing "I can get that cheaper at Walmart," while working at the Open Book. The volume in question was of course some mega-billion-seller by Stephen King or Danielle Steele. We thought, well, they still have to come to us for the offbeat and hard-to-obtain stuff.

That was in 1989, and well before the internet. As you know, that is no longer true.

And unfortunately, you can still get it cheaper at the Walmart.

Greenville's Open Book closing its doors
Customers say a community will vanish with independent retailer
By Jeanne Brooks • Staff writer, Greenville News
January 25, 2010

A card with the news went out to about 1,000 of the store’s best customers over the past year. After four decades in business in Greenville, The Open Book is closing.

Park McKnight, a customer in the store Saturday, said once the doors shut for good, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

The independent bookstore first opened in August 1971, in what was then the Bell Tower Shopping Center, now County Square, long before the era of large national chain bookstores, big box retailers selling books at deeply discounted prices, or online book sales.

Tom Gower at age 48 left a successful corporate job to become a bookstore owner. He went on to make the Gower name “synonymous with local bookselling,” as a Greenville Piedmont story put it in 1987.

The Open Book has remained a locally owned family business to this day. At one point, there were three stores in Greenville and a branch in Clemson. Earlier, for a couple or so years, there was also a branch in Anderson.

Gower’s wife, Elizabeth, and three of their four children — Margaret, Tommy and Grier — worked in the stores alongside their parents. One son, Roger, became a doctor instead.

In 1978, the family opened an Open Book in what was then McAlister Mall, now University Center. Managing it fell to Margaret. She hired Duff Bruce to help, and the two married in 1984.

Through the decades, the bookstore attracted and kept devoted customers like Anne Howson and her husband, Art.

“We have relied on Duff for at least 25 years to make recommendations” about what to read, Howson said Saturday.

Every Christmas, Howson’s husband would call for suggestions for the five or six books he always gives his wife. When he came to the store later, Bruce would have a list ready.

Howson said she was sad to learn the bookstore is closing, “but not at all surprised. I know what a struggle this has been (to keep it going). It’s been a labor of love for them.”

For her, “It’s more than just a business closing its doors.” A sense of community will be lost. The Open Book hasn’t been the kind of place to hurry in and out of. “You walk around,” she said, browse the shelves, and talk books and ideas with the owners and staff.

The Open Book’s various stores were consolidated in 1993 into a single bookstore with a café, which the Bruces now own, in a 12,000-square-foot building at 110 S. Pleasantburg Drive.

Books-A-Million, on Laurens Road, “was already here,” Bruce recalled. “And we knew Barnes & Noble was looking.”

Barnes & Noble opened a 29,000-square-foot store on Haywood Road the following year.

But The Open Book held its own for a while. For one thing, “Greenville was growing at the time,” Margaret Bruce said. She has since come to think, “We probably weren’t getting the new people on the Eastside.”

The year the Open Book consolidated, in 1993, there were about 4,700 independent bookstores in the United States, according to the American Booksellers Association, The New York Times reported. By 2007, there were about 2,500.

The plight of the independents was portrayed in the 1998 film, “You’ve Got Mail.”

The independent bookstore The Happy Bookseller in Columbia, founded in 1974, closed in 2008.

But the Bruces said a combination of factors beyond large chain bookstores, some of which are also feeling pressure, have made it tough for independents. For example, some big-box retailers and online booksellers discount books to below cost, Bruce said.

The Bruces started thinking about what to do two years ago. “We both look at the sales every day,” he said.

They considered different options like going smaller. “But we were just tired,” Margaret Bruce said. “We’ve been doing this a long time.” They decided last summer to stay open through Christmas, then close.

They expect to lock the doors for the final time in about a month. There will be much they miss. They will miss the customers, many of whom have become good friends, they said.

And for Bruce, “There’s really nothing quite like handing somebody a book that you think they might like.”

His wife, who has worked in one or another of The Open Book stores most of her life, starting when she was 15, has always enjoyed looking at what sold the day before and reordering.

Once retired, they both intend to read more. Margaret Bruce also wants to do volunteer work.

Also “Margaret has never been to Europe,” Bruce said. “I haven’t been in 30 years.” So maybe they’ll go.

One thing for sure, “We won’t miss worrying about selling enough books,” she said.

At left: From the children's book department, The Cow Jumps over the Moon.

When the store closes, the book clubs, writers groups and nonprofit boards that meet in The Open Book’s back room will have to find another place.

Some schools will have to seek another advertiser for their yearbooks and another donor. A small pool of local businesses, such as office suppliers, will be in need another client.

And local starting-out authors, as Nicholas Sparks was at one time, will have to look for another spot willing to host a signing for someone not yet widely known.

Howson, a librarian as well as a longtime customer, said, “It goes beyond economics. It makes me sad to think that to save a few dollars we give up so much more.”

The Bruces worked on the language of the card they sent out. Margaret Bruce wanted to make sure it didn’t sound “too weepy.” At the end they put, “We will miss you all and hope you continue to shop local. It matters!”

My deepest and most heartfelt novenas go out to everyone at the Open Book, past and present... it always hurts when a dream dies.

*all photos from my Flickr account.

The Big Squeeze: Tough Times for the American Worker by Steven Greenhouse

Rarely has a book left me so thoroughly depressed.

I had planned to start writing this review over the weekend, but it was an unpleasant prospect that I kept putting off, rather like changing the kitty litter.

But I knew I had to. Rah rah the working classes, and all like that. But that's just it, I hate to catalog exactly how bad we're getting it right now, and will likely continue to get it. Whilst reading this book, I remarked offhandedly to Mr Daisy that surely it can't continue like this, and he just laughed at me. Sure it can. It can get much worse; just take a look at those exhausted seamstresses in Taiwan hurriedly sewing sewing sewing for a measly 9 cents a garment. Reading this account of working conditions in the USA right now, one comes away with the (thoroughly depressing) idea that the Labor Movement was a mere blip, a momentary pause in the long march towards turning the masses of us into automatons and work horses, not necessarily in that order.

Interestingly enough, what initially grabbed me about this book was the inclusion of a chapter about the company I used to work for. Wow, there it is! I was somewhat dazzled to read it: see, I told you it was bad. Of course, I already knew that, but how validating to see it here on the printed page; the lousy working conditions duly listed with the other shitty employers like Walmart.

The company in question runs call-centers for corporate clients, and although the client in the book-example is different, the description of the work-atmosphere and job-requirements are the same. (I have mentioned this job a few times on DEAD AIR, notably here and here.) I made pretty good money, admittedly, but I paid for it in blood. During rush-seasons, we got bonuses simply for showing up and on time, so that should tell you just how vicious and nasty the calls could get. It was not unusual for people to dramatically walk out on the job with a "take this job and shove it" flourish... or they might simply scurry away in tears. They finally had to bribe employees to stay.

Now, however, in today's economy, they don't even bother with the bribes. Wages are down; bonuses and perks largely non-existent. The layoffs and pay-decreases enumerated in this book started in 2001, which is the year I left.[1]:

They call it the script. But it's actually an arcane list of things you are supposed to say, and things you'd better not say. At the [company] call center in [Anywhere, USA], the script sometimes seems only slightly less sacred than the Bible.

If any of the 550 [my center had over 800] customer service representatives (CSRs) stray too much from the script on one call, they risk a tongue-lashing. If they are caught straying on three or four calls, they risk their job.

You must always say "Thank you for calling ____." [...] You should never call a customer sir or madam, it's always Mr. or Ms. with the last name. And you had better not mispronounce the last name, even if it's Krzyzewski. If you don't slip in the customer's name at least three times during a call, that will mean some demerits. And you'd better mention [special bargain] at least once each call. You need to sound chipper and energetic, and you shouldn't spend more than four minutes on a call [our official call time was three minutes, ten seconds, give or take]. You also need to slip in at least two "pro-actives" [instructions to customer on how to avoid calling back, things they can do themselves, but say it nicely].

[...] And when a call is about to end, you'd better not forget to ask, "Have I resolved all of your concerns today?"

[...] There are more than 60,000 call centers in the United States and an estimated 4 million call center workers. It's an industry at the heart of the American economy. Call centers are the connective tissue of modern commerce, handling airline reservations and stock sales, selling HBO subscriptions and cell phones, taking orders for LL Bean and Dell computers, troubleshooting problems with your hard drive or your credit card.

Call centers are sometimes viewed as factories that supply an invaluable product: customer service. One academic study found that "call centers introduce principles of mechanization and industrial engineering into a much wider array of service transactions than was hitherto possible"--thanks to specialized software, networked computers, sophisticated equipment that distributes calls, and recording devices that keep tabs on a CSR's every word. While call centers rely on modern technologies to maximize productivity, their techniques often seem borrowed from the "drive" principles of old.

In short, deviate from the script, take too long, mess it up, and it's your ass in a sling.

And you know, some folks in management tried to be as humane as they could be about it, but rules are rules. I once listened to myself cut off an extremely-talkative jerk (on a tape-recorded call; all are recorded, but only a random few are listened to for monthly quality-review), because he was running up my call-time drastically... After every few word-torrents, I interrupted him with, "Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah" [2] which made my supervisors crack up so bad, they could barely write me up, they were laughing so hard. Nonetheless, I was written up. You have to keep the call short, but you can't interrupt the customer either (even if he sorely needs interrupting); obviously a no-win situation for the CSR. [3]

If you've ever wondered why it often takes two or three calls to straighten out a situation, keep in mind, the CSR answering your call might be working on a backlog of the last several calls. If you are put on hold immediately, it's because she has every window on her screen filled up, and has to clear one first to handle your call. Also, much of the new technology "auto-populates" screens with customer information that is often incorrect. So, she has to fix that, too. And a bunch of other shit besides:

[...] While on a call, perhaps answering a customer's questions about a monthly bill, the CSRs not only were supposed to slip in all the elements from the script, but were supposed to verify names and addresses and type them into the computer. And if the customer changed their cell phone plan [this was the Verizon call center in the book, mine was not] during a call, the CSRs had to type a great deal of additional information and do a credit check, all while navigating among various computer screens. [...] If while juggling all these tasks a call center rep concentrated so much on her typing or her computer screen that she didn't listen to the customer for a second or dropped a beat in the conversation, there would be consequences. "If you ever asked a customer to repeat something, the supervisors had a fit," [recalls one employee] "and you couldn't have dead air."

;) And now you know another reason for my blog name.

And now you also know why your information gets all screwed up.

~*~

As I said, I feel validated reading this account from the labor correspondent for the New York Times. Then again, note the "golly gee whiz" tone in what he has written, above. These are investigative "field studies" for him. It sounds remarkably like anthropology involving a pilgrimage to another culture that the author doesn't belong to, rather than workers in his own country. One gets the distinct impression that Steven Greenhouse doesn't actually associate with the people he is writing about. And see, although his heart is undoubtedly in the right place, I think this is part of the problem. Who is his intended audience, the workers in question? Who is he telling all of this to? NPR listeners? PBS viewers-like-you? People who attend Ivy-League schools? I can't quite figure out who is supposed to be reading this book; I didn't need to read it to know about the state of affairs described therein. I know what's in it. Who doesn't know about the current sorry state of affairs for the American worker? The educated people who will never have a job like CSR? (And are they utterly certain about that?)

Part of the problem is the class-schism of New York Times readers (wherein handbags are advertised starting at $4000 on sale) vs the rest of the country.

The problem is that he has to write this book in the first place, because people like him don't know about the call centers unless they read it in a book.

~*~

The best chapter in The Big Squeeze is (perfectly) titled "Leaner and Meaner," in which Greenhouse delineates the collapse of basic decency among management... something I first noticed during the Reagan era, when Big Business was manically fetishized as the savior of the American economy (and we see how well THAT worked, she coughed). Suddenly, bosses were given carte blanche to rip you a new one and scream stop fucking up whenever they took a notion. Before this time, such behavior was seriously uncool (have a look at MAD MEN again) and could lead to dismissal. After the 80s? The temper-tantrum-throwing supervisor was considered a real go-getter and was promoted to a fare-thee-well. Having no "sentimentality" and screaming at people the day their mother dies, well, that's a guy who CARES ABOUT THE COMPANY and will certainly go far, with hella commitment like that! The longer I have worked, the more I have seen this phenomenon in play. I have seen it increase to the point that I just assume most supervisors will be cruel--and I am pleasantly surprised when they aren't. Cruelty has become a managerial requirement; unkindness and brutality signal that you run a tight ship. A lot like the military.

Other chapters are also required reading, particularly "Outsourced and Out of Luck" and the well-documented "The Rise and Fall of the Social Contract"--chapter titles that speak for themselves. Although he offers 'solutions' at the end of the book, one can't help but think that companies and capitalists have already found their solution--and he even mentions it himself: Outsourcing. Maquiladoras. India. Mexico. If American workers complain or buckle under the pressure, do what the rich have always done: move on. Textile workers in the north start unionizing? Move the textile industry to the south. Too expensive THERE TOO? On to Mexico. Too expensive to pay call center workers a living wage in the USA? Hey, they speak English in India, and that's the new frontier for call centers.

They will just keep going until they find more people to use. And there seems to be a never-ending supply.

As I said, the book was depressing. The only thing I can think of to make me feel better is to repeat this old expression I learned years ago: Workers of the World unite, we have nothing to lose but our chains.

:)



...


[1] I left the company virtually right before 9/11... one of my first thoughts on 9/11 was how much of a mess it would be if I was still taking calls (my shift was heavily East Coast/New York), which is a terrible, self-serving thought, but one I couldn't suppress. I was so grateful to be off the phones, so that I would not hear the anguish up close.

[2] I sounded rather like the yeah-yeah's at the end of the B-52s song, "Dance this mess around" if you have ever heard it.

On another call, I got a customer named Fernando and asked him if he liked the Abba song of the same name. I nearly got written up for that too, but it turned out he loved the song and started singing it to me. (That one also made the rounds of management, and some would sing "Fernando" to me when they saw me in the hallways.)

[3] What was jarring about the call was how I didn't remember a thing about it, as if my memory banks had been wiped clean ("Did I fall asleep?")... Even now, years later, only a few calls really stand out--most are a veritable blur of meaningless capitalist verbiage in my memory.

The Politics of Flair

Jennifer Aniston's boss in OFFICE SPACE asks her if she wants to express herself or not?


Saturday evening, our restaurant server took a crayon and wrote his name on the paper tablecloth, upside down. He wrote it that way so we could read it. Some trick, I thought. And then I wondered, okay, whose cute idea was this?

Some waiter or waitress somewhere in this middling-expensive restaurant chain decided to do this once, and now everybody has to.

Maybe she just wanted to have some fun or be different and unique. So, she took the crayon that you check off your order with (another cute idea?) and wrote her name, upside down. This was part of her shtick, so she could get more tips and try to enjoy her job a little more. And then, some boss said, hey, Suzie here has TEAM SPIRIT, and you ALL must do this dumb thing that she finds enjoyment in, or that she has made uniquely hers.

In short, management STOLE the idea from some waitress and then forced everyone else, even those not normally given to cutesy ideas (which worked perfectly well for Suzie, I realize) to write their names upside down. I imagine Suzie was not a popular character at her workplace, particularly with those people who didn't want to do this dumb thing that Suzie enjoyed doing.

Barbara Ehrenreich wrote about this copycat phenomenon in her book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America, in which she posed as a real live working class person (I can hear the NPR listeners gasping!) and worked at Walmart and a variety of other places, including restaurants. At one point, to curb her boredom during slow times, she starts freshening up the salads on the buffet. She is complimented for this by management, and feels a silly sense of pride. Another waitress then intervenes and tells her to STOP DOING THAT. Why? Because if management likes it, they will force them all to do it, even when they aren't slow. The reader can feel Ehrenreich's momentary surprise, even though I knew as soon as she did it, that she should ask someone first. (You know you are working class to the core, when you know the rules for jobs even better than the one writing the damn book.)

A good measure of identity in the workplace is whether you are forced to wear flair or do something equally dorky, such as greet the customer as soon as they enter! (book/video store rules) And if you are truly allowed to wear what you want? Anytime? You must be somebody important. Do you wear a dopey name-tag with a little pin affixed, letting everyone know how many years you have been employed at said establishment? Do you have buttons on your officially team-colored smock, vest or apron, advertising various wares for sale?

How about a button that instructs people to "ASK ME ABOUT"--blah blah blah?

In the movie OFFICE SPACE, Joanna the waitress (Jennifer Aniston) is admonished by her boss that she isn't wearing enough flair. She is confused, since she is wearing the regulation X number of buttons (the definition of "flair")--so she wrinkles her brow--what is the problem? Her boss replies, sighing heavily at her obvious lack of team spirit, see Brian over there? He is wearing 37 pieces of flair! Now if you think the MINIMUM is good enough, well--(the boss shakes his head, disappointed) and Aniston is still puzzled: "More then? You want me to wear more?"

The boss sighs. Poor thing doesn't get it.

"You want to EXPRESS yourself, don't you Joanna?"

And yes, there it is. Expressing yourself, for a working class person, is doing what management tells you to do, even the dopiest, dumbest thing.

The first person who ever wore the 37 buttons, or wrote their name upside down, or wore the cutesy name-tag with cutesy shit attached thereon, WAS expressing themselves, most assuredly. However, where do they get the idea the rest of us want to express ourselves identically to this other person? Would we all decorate our houses the same way, wear the same shoes? Of course not. So, why would we all want to deck ourselves out for work the same, or do showboat things like write our names upside down on a paper tablecloth?

Before evilll Walmart invaded my neighborhood, I occasionally shopped there. There was one older woman whose blue Walmart smock was completely covered in buttons and pins; some represented products sold by Walmart, but some were about Jesus, and some were about Star Wars. And some were about stuff like the American Cancer Society, pink ribbon-symbols for breast cancer and all that kind of fund-raising, do-gooder stuff. I used to get in her line, just to read all the buttons. I told her how much I liked them, and she beamed--this was obviously a collection of long-standing. (I have also collected buttons and pins for many decades, and I have one hat chock-full of them too.)

Some time ago, I saw the same woman still employed at the Walmart. However, she had been reeled in considerably... her flair, her OWN FLAIR, the flair she collected for herself, was mostly gone. She had a few buttons left, the ones given the green-light by management: buy this, buy that, yada yada. I was saddened by that, although I had long expected it. Individuality in the workplace, actually "expressing yourself"? Ha. This is permissible only if you make a certain amount of money. Not for us.

But they had really gotten too strict, I thought. Yes, I fully expected Jesus to be gone, but was surprised Star Wars was gone, too. I mean, aren't Star Wars toys sold in the toy department; aren't the countless videos and video games sold at Walmart, too? Why get rid of those? I felt sad for my sister button-collector.

I got in her line, that day, as always. And I said to her, "I remember, you used to have all the buttons and pins on your smock."

She rolled her eyes at me, "Don't even get me started," she said, explaining they made her stop wearing them.

"Was it Jesus?" I asked, conspiratorially.

Her eyes flashed, "I have only got compliments from people, it wasn't any customer complaining. My customers love me," she said with a pride I recognize. Yes, I thought, my customers love me too, they wouldn't try to get me in trouble. And I knew instinctively that they loved this warm, friendly, southern grandma-type person.

Some manager came in from the home-office, and had a fit, she said. "They thought it was some terrible thing, that I had worn them all these years," and rolled her eyes again.

I'm sorry, I told her, I loved the pins. I collect them, too.

"Lots of women do," she replied, "and they all liked them, told me they enjoyed the fact that there was some originality around here!" She shrugged, shook her head, and then asked me to key in my PIN for my debit card.

And I left, walking past the identical smocks, with all the identical flair. For some reason, I just wanted to cry.

"You want to express yourself, don't you?"

Indeed, wouldn't that be nice?

Woman murdered in my apartment complex...

... and I still can't believe that, as I read back the title. This is MAYBERRY, people. This kinda stuff only happens in the big cities.

Wrong.

Driving home from work last evening, I saw a cop car hovering outside my complex, then another one exiting the gate as I was entering. We have an entry gate, you know, to keep out the bad people. (What about the bad people already living here?)

As I entered, I saw floodlights, the Fox News van, oodles of cops. I knew it was more than a drug bust, since people were milling around in that weirdly morbid, expectant way you've seen so many times on TV. I knew this meant a dead body.

And it did. Her name was Shivani Boparai and she was only 32 years old. I have probably seen her before, if she lived here for any appreciable length of time. No photos have been published so far.

Her 6-year-old son told neighbors he was locked out; Fox News Carolina initially reported that he was covered in blood. But the door was unlocked, and neighbors discovered Shivani dead from multiple stab wounds. There is some concern that the child may have witnessed this horrible act, but details haven't been released.

When I initially saw all the police cars, I floored my vehicle, pedal to the metal; I wanted inside as fast I as could humanly move. It was an almost unconscious fear that surfaced, that I didn't realize I had...I think I instinctively knew the victim was a woman, somehow. Possibly because this was at home, late on an uneventful, icy-cold weeknight. (Who else would it have been?)

They busted the husband, 37-year-old Harvinder Singh, on his way out of the Wal-Mart... (yes, the very same Wal-Mart I have complained about for over a year).

I guess he needed to do some shopping.

Of course I know that violent crime happens everywhere... and yet somehow, to have it happen so physically close to me, has indeed shaken me. And as a feminist, I am once again reminded that violence against women, wives, mothers, does not take a vacation and you can't keep it out with security gates.

Right now, Singh is being held without bail.

EDITED TO ADD: I can't seem to upload this photo of Shivani--but here is the link.

Scarlet Begonias, or ...another Wal-Mart rant

 

Above, Bele Chere folk art. The sun looks happy, not oppressive and cruel.

The extended, suffocating heat of upstate South Carolina wears ever onward... exactly when the Buckeye in me expects it to GET COOLER, during the second week of September. Why does the southern autumn (or lack of one) always fake me out like that????? Every year, I am still bewildered by searing heat in Fall. It's like I just got here, when I have lived in the south 21 years now.

This searing heat gives way to October and November (indistinguishable), in which very chilly, frosty mornings often turn into a definite, prolonged sizzle by midday. As a result of these extremes, one never knows if long or short sleeves are required or what kind of sweater or jacket to pack. I never learned how to dress young Delusional Precious properly, and she was perpetually burning up and/or freezing.

I was married on Thanksgiving Eve in November, and I still recall the bright digital temperature display on the front of a nearby bank as we drove away: 75 degrees. (I was so startled by it, I still remember it.)

~*~

Luckily by the end of the week, the remains of tropical storm Ike should cool off the place and bring some much-needed rain. But what is good for one area will likely be tragedy for someone else. Philosophical truth (heavy).

If that seems unduly negative, I blame Wal-Mart for my unpleasant mood. Yes, my nerves are shot, my life disrupted, the huge pile of industrialized SHIT from the ENORMOUS construction site is as big as the space shuttle.

All so people can buy CHEAPLY and make sure the people of Taiwan have jobs. I know, I watch Fox.

There is an obscene amount of noise, dust, drilling, smoke, trucks, concrete, blacktop, traffic, crap... I mean, the size of the parking-lot lights, alone? They are the height of Mount Rushmore. At least one delivery was actually made by helicopter, like something out of Apocalypse Now. It has all made me ill.

I have been unable to do much of anything except flip channels compulsively, eat ice-cream sandwiches and watch Obama's poll numbers go down.

I've also been commenting on other people's blogs, being pesky elsewhere, and sending emails, most of which are likely incoherent. Sorry about that, if you were lucky enough to get one today! I'm trying to get caught up. Doing badly!

Nonetheless, keep those cards and letters coming in, and down with Wal-Mart!

~*~

Studio version of Scarlet Begonias, with some interesting acidhead visuals!



I'm trying to concentrate on those lyrics--

Once in a while you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right.

Odds and Sods - After the deluge/Stealth antichrist edition

Left: Anti-Walmart art on display at Downtown Books and News, Asheville, NC. (Artist/inventor unknown!)

~*~

Yes, sports fans, the horrible new neighborhood Walmart, the one we could not keep out, the one I complained about so much that I worried I would alienate my dear readers, is ready to open. It's too traumatizing for mere words. Suffice to say, the mess they have made of everything (I hold them accountable for my flood last week, although of course I can't prove their shitty construction is responsible)... is plenty substantial. The toll on my nerves alone, is sufficient to hate them forever!

And so, this edition of Odds and Sods, picks up where the flood left off. I wanted to give it a Biblical tinge.

~*~

For those of you who thought my piece yesterday was mean, I assure you, I am still getting a significant number of hits on IS BARACK OBAMA THE ANTICHRIST?, which probably skews my thinking a bit. And then I wake up this morning and learn that Dr Dobson's outfit is asking people to PRAY FOR RAIN during Barack Obama's acceptance speech at the convention.

I wish I were making this up:

COLORADO SPRINGS – A video producer for Focus on the Family is asking people to pray for rain when Sen. Barack Obama (D-Illinois) makes his speech at the end of the Democratic National Convention in Denver.

Obama is giving his acceptance speech outdoor at Invesco Field at Mile High on Thursday, Aug. 28.

Stuart Shepard made the prayer request in his latest Internet video for the evangelical Christian group.

He says he's only partly joking.

"Sure it's boyish humor perhaps to wish for something like that, but at the same time it's something people feel very strongly about. They're concerned about where he would take the nation," said Shepard.

Shepard does a weekly commentary called Stop Light, produced for the Internet by Focus on the Family Action.

Boyish humor!

Do you BELIEVE these people?

It is my opinion that such statements, as well as the recent McCain ad (famously featuring Paris Hilton and Britney Spears), highlighting Obama's popularity and naming him "the biggest celebrity in the world"--are covert, sly, under-the-radar winks to the Black Helicopter Faction of the GOP. This is precisely the faction McCain can't easily win over: the hard-core right wingnuts who are constantly looking for signs of the Rapture. They believe Senator Barack Obama is the antichrist, as evidenced by the fact that I am getting hits from them every day. And these little "boyish" jokes, the praying for rain (suitably Biblical, for those who don't get it), the frequent reminders of his dangerous, alarming "celebrity"--all of this is code. Most of it seems to be going right over the heads of the mainstream media, but it's connecting with the Rapture-freaks (and their many fellow-travelers) in the Heartland. The Obama campaign really should address these ongoing religious rumors HEAD ON, because I think his recent falling-poll numbers have everything to do with what I am hereby naming the Stealth Antichrist Campaign.

Stay on the lookout for more of the same.

~*~

Speaking of fundamentalists, Heart (aka Cheryl Lindsey Seelhoff), our favorite ex-fundie feminist running for president (supposedly, although I have yet to see her on a national forum of any kind), posted a very bizarre, racist comic over a week ago, which I didn't know if I should link here. The comic, by one Elena Steier, I found very disturbing, because it reminded me of something, but I could not put my finger on just what it looked like.

Belledame and SnowdropExplodes have helpfully solved the mystery for me. The comic, particularly the juxtaposition of the sheer blond whiteness of the dancer and the dark, leering, long-nosed appearance of the male audience, look exactly like nazi propaganda cartoons. There are various footnoted comparisons (with linkage) to several of these old comics at Snowdrop's blog.

Heart, please stop embarrassing other feminists with this vicious bullshit of yours, and go back to the bosom of your cozy ex-comrade, Dr Dobson, where you belong. PRETTY PLEASE!?!

~*~

And while we are on the topic of vicious bullshit, Heart has repeatedly claimed transwomyn are not oppressed. And we now have another transwomyn who has been murdered, named Angie Zapata. (PS: that link is a veritable educational gateway; lots of details about the case, which are almost too heartbreaking to read.) Zapata was also a transwomyn of color, and Brownfemipower and Uppity Brown Woman write very well about these various intersections of identity, and how they threaten the mainstream media's hegemony (when they attempt to cover such stories), as well as the status quo in general.

I'm sure Heart has some handy-dandy explanation for why Angie Zapata wasn't really oppressed. She can sell it to Dr Dobson, as they go riding into the sunset together.

----------------
Listening to: The Clash - Hateful
via FoxyTunes

Wal-Mart trashes my neighborhood, a photographic essay

Can you see how beautiful it was? In the last photo, I live just beyond the trees. I'm surprised they left any trees at all. In the third photo, the large building in the distance is the Michelin North American Headquarters.

You know, I understand capitalism. I understand marketing. I work in retail. But there is a Super-Wal-Mart about 10-12 miles south of here, and another about 15-20 miles northwest. It isn't like they haven't saturated the upstate South Carolina market already. Why do they keep taking more and more and more?

When I became vegetarian, it was easy. Meat and the idea of it, made me sick. Likewise, I now find it very easy to boycott Wal-Mart, cheap light bulbs and toothpaste be damned.

Because I hate them for what they have done.

----------------
Listening to: Billie Holiday - For Heaven's Sake
via FoxyTunes

It's a Waffle House Christmas

Left: From Daveweb's Waffle House Web Cards

It would appear that I have survived this year's auditory assault, complete with millions of chestnuts roasting on millions of open fires, the weather outside being frightful, etc. At my place of business, we went musically trad over this past week, switching from the usual "Shake your ass for Christmas" and "Go to Rehab for Christmas," to old Christmas carols such as "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "O Holy Night." Interspersed with the usual Christmas pop songs.

And so, I've been listening to some of the older singers, trying to identify Andy Williams and Tony Bennett (who sound alike to me), early Dean Martin and Perry Como (ditto). I've noticed how Judy Garland always sounded so sad, even when singing happy songs. I've noticed that Ray Charles sounded extremely stoned in the middle of his career. I've noticed how forced Karen Carpenter sounded, after the fifth or sixth album. (I remember the cheesy marketing of Merry Christmas, Darling and it's sudden popularity with high school choirs.) I've noticed that Rosemary Clooney sings so beautifully and perfectly, she could not help but have become an addict. Frank Sinatra and Elvis, of course, are utterly confident even when singing very difficult music; making me wonder if their approach to religion was similar? Frank croons "It Came Upon Midnight Clear" in a definitive fashion that leaves you no doubt that he believes the story he is singing about. Elvis, similarly, sings "Silent Night" with utter conviction. Both sing sweet choirboy versions of "O Little Town of Bethlehem," obviously familiar with the hymn.

And so, my first spiritual lesson the weekend after my tattoo: stop seeing events negatively (i.e. as an auditory assault) and start seeing events positively (i.e. an interesting opportunity for education about popular culture and music history). Not a bad attitude to take with you on possibly the rowdiest retail week (and weekend) of the year.

My positive attitude has recently been buffeted by the construction of a WalMart on the edge of my neighborhood--an old-style apartment complex that has remained pretty quiet and mellow as the Greenville Metro Area has grown up around it. This was once at the edge of "country"--two miles east was completely rural. And now, we have Michelin North American Headquarters, BMW, Hitachi, countless grocery stores, Jack In The Box, Waffle House, Walgreen's, Starbucks, Radio Shack, Lowe's, and at long last, the coup de grâce for the entire zip code...WalMart. The epitome of evil itself.

I park my car and gaze at acreage my daughter walked through, as it is pillaged, paved and tunneled by Sam Walton's minions... and again, I try to remember to be positive. Next year, I know what will be here. I try to remember the land as it is, before it is dug up and transformed daily, for the purpose of profit.

And I remember that everything changes and is impermanent.

Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. -- Matthew 24:35

War with Wal-Mart, Pt. 2

From the South Park episode titled Something Wall-mart this way comes, Comedy Central network.



I opened my door yesterday to retrieve a red sheet of paper, asking me to please get involved. The angry-red sheet of paper demanded to know:

WHAT WILL THIS BIG-BOX MADNESS MEAN FOR OUR COMMUNITY?

Obviously, all about Wal-Mart. More petitions, more carrying-on, more gnashing of teeth.

I wish we could stop them, but I just wanted to tell the zealous distributor of red-sheet diatribes, that if a bunch of millionaires can't stop them, what makes you think we can? The Greenville News reports:

Wal-Mart Stores says an "upscale" Supercenter will likely take more than a year to open at Pelham Road and The Parkway, where county land records show the company paid $7 million for 16 acres of hotly disputed land.

The land sale follows nine months of legal and political wrangling over a prime slice of property already zoned for commercial use in which some nearby residents say their vocal opposition group was eventually bullied into silence.

An attorney for Greenville-based OBS Land Co. sent a letter to the Pelham Corridor Property Owners Alliance earlier this year that said he could take legal action if the group continued to interfere with OBS' contract to sell the land, according to copies obtained by The Greenville News.

Upscale! Is that supposed to make us feel better? Hey, don't worry, it's UPSCALE! And what the hell is that, anyway? It's still a Wal-Mart isn't it? Does an "upscale" Wal-Mart charge regular prices instead of Wal-Mart prices? I doubt that!

The fact is: Wal-Mart can and will do whatever they want. They are running the joint.

Profits are more important to Wal-Mart than your excellent, rational talking points:

TRAFFIC - Traffic will infiltrate our quiet neighborhood and it will be nearly impossible to enter or exit the complex as we fight all the new Wal-Mart traffic.

NOISE, TRASH, LIGHTS - Think about the loudspeakers and trucks backing up at all hours of the day and night.

CRIME - Big development + 24-hour operations = DRAMATIC INCREASE IN CRIME. Criminals will be able to walk into our neighborhood from the Wal-Mart.

POLLUTION - Think about the smell from the trash. In addition, they will drain their dirty water into the creek which runs through our complex.

GET INVOLVED, MAKE A DIFFERENCE, PRESERVE YOUR SANITY.

www.SAVEGREENVILLE.com

While I certainly appreciate the effort, this red sheet just depressed me, as I realized all of these things are true, and my sanity is NOT going to be preserved. Nor is my neighborhood.

Of course, I will sign your petition, go to your meeting, pass out the NO WAL-MART! car magnets and what-all. But I just don't think it will do any good.

Has anyone EVER stopped them?

Mood: despondent.

Corporate take-overs of everyday life

From LuckyMom at the wonderful PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY CHRONICLES, comes this post:

A new study has revealed that children surveyed at a Head Start center in California prefered the taste of food wrapped in the McDonalds logo over the exact same food unwrapped. Some of the foods were common-place snacks like carrots and milk.

Researchers are balking at the overly successful effects of McDonalds strategic marketing toward children. Psychologists are lining-up against MickyDs while others choose to blame the parents.

I am always in the market for another reason to hate McDonalds. But seriously, this is alarming. LuckyMom wonders if all children would have this positive reaction to fast-food wrappings, or is it more likely among poor children and/or children who watch a lot of television. What do you think?

Meanwhile, the evil WalMart is coming to my neighborhood. Like, two buildings away. I'm sick over it.

I had been overly-confident that (see article) the rich people in Thornblade, the hyper-affluent golf-course neighborhood adjacent to my apartment complex, would be able to keep out WalMart. They COULDN'T. And they spent several million dollars trying. What hope is there for the rest of us?

We are contemplating moving. Then again, will rents decrease? That might not be so bad. But there is a REASON rent will decrease, if you know what I mean. The traffic around here (intersection of Pelham and I-85) is horrendous as it is. What are they trying to DO to us????

--thoroughly disgusted with runaway monopoly capitalism--

Graphic from Eadon.com. Warning, politically incorrect, sometimes sexist cartoons, etc etc.