South Carolina election commercials

I now present to you some of the worst campaign commercials you will ever see. Get out your barf bag now.

Well, okay, maybe not the worst, but... dreadful, simply dreadful.

First up, Governor Haley shores up her lady-voter base that put her over the top in 2010, by addressing BULLYING.

Say what, you ask? Bullying? We can't drive on our shitty roads; we have kids dying in Protective Services; we are going flat-ass broke... and we suddenly have the Governor playing Big Mother and assuring us that she CARES! (Note: she cares about nice white middle class girls like the one in the commercial; obviously, those dead kids in foster care can suck it.)

This commercial would never be made about a male candidate. That's enough reason to hate it.

Further, do teenagers send suicide notes to the Governor? Seriously? (More on the ad here) And what exactly would a governor do, to stop bullying?

"Nikki Haley Makes a Difference"



I told you it was bad.

~*~

And now from Haley's Republican/Independent challenger on the Right, here is Tom Ervin, who is some kind of relation to Senator Sam Ervin of Watergate committee fame (son or grandson?).... but right now, it is interesting that he seems to be downplaying that connection. (notice their kinship isn't mentioned on either Wikipedia entry) On the Right, Sam Ervin was hated for helping bring down Richard Nixon, while on the Left, he was hated for being a Jim Crow politician. It was the great middle that loved Sam Ervin, who unexpectedly became a star during the televised Watergate proceedings, as he would periodically huff and puff, become amusingly annoyed and pointedly lecture the witnesses on the meaning of the Constitution. He was a huge hit, and I am surprised Ervin isn't reminding voters of his famous TV-star relative.

Maybe Tom Ervin figures its better to leave good ole dad/granddad out of the campaign, especially when you are running against a nonwhite woman, the first nonwhite and the first woman to be elected governor of SC.

Anyway, here is the ad, targeting older voters and veterans.

"That's Tom"



Is that the most sentimental, treacly thing you ever saw? Argh.

As we said on our radio show last week, the idea is that you can call some politician any time you need help, the way Haley famously promised: "If you have trouble voting with the new rules, just call me and I will make sure you can vote!" Politicians want the old-bubba network of making lots of personal friends by getting stuff done for them, as in those old, well-oiled Democratic machines of the North (and the Dixiecrat machines of the South). Notice the ad subtly trashes the VA, yet makes no overt criticism, much less suggest what should be done to make improvements. The overriding concept is that these faceless bureaucracies sure do suck, but a nice guy like Tom can make it alright.

These are the choices on the Right. This means we will probably end up with one of them. Watch em and weep.

A Buddhist Story about People and Cats

My cat Cyril, who has never bitten me.






About a dozen years ago, give or take, I was feeding a cat behind our apartment building. He was a very cute, squat kitty, white/tabby patterned with sweet golden eyes. He was dirty and bedraggled--a feral cat, to be sure; he would not approach humans. I fed him for months, and occasionally sat out on the terrace while he ate. As a stray, he was far too hungry to wait for me to go inside to commence chowing down. He ignored me, and I took advantage of this situation, to get closer. And closer.

And eventually, one day, I touched him. He instantly purred, rubbed against me, meowed happily. I wondered if he had always been feral ... or maybe he had simply concluded I must be okay, as his faithful food-dispenser. I pet him every day after that. It was about two or three weeks after I first touched him, that he suddenly lunged and grabbed my arm with both paws, full-on, and... crunch. He bit me. Hard.

Ouch. It was DEEP. (I still have the scar from it, a singular spot on my thumb-joint.) There was blood, and the pain did not readily subside.

Two seconds after he did this, he was purring again, rubbing against me happily. What gives?--I thought. I realized that he probably had an ear infection (or an infestation of ear mites, as most strays have) and while petting him, I had gotten too close to his ears. I could see that he wasn't mad at me, because he didn't run off. My mistake, I thought, this is what I get for petting strays. I cleaned myself with peroxide and bandages, and went to work as usual.

Within two days, I had a fever, and my arm was red... the redness appearing to climb up my arm. I was working at the dreaded call-center then, and even typing had become painful. I called my mother, and she basically shrieked at me to go to the doctor, that being bitten by a feral animal was a serious matter. Denial, I guess. I knew this intellectually, but didn't seem to think it applied to ME. Because I am a cat person!

It was serious... I already had an infection that was in danger of becoming systemic. I needed a huge dose of Rocephin and was running a significant fever. I was embarrassed by the whole thing. As a cat person, I was embarrassed a CAT had attacked me, feral or not.

But even more than that, it then became a government matter. DHEC has rules about feral animal-attacks. (Who knew?) They have to fill out government paperwork and call the Health Dept and everything. Was this an unprovoked attack?--asked the nurse. I couldn't readily answer. Was it? "Well, I was petting the cat and I think I got too close to his ears," I said, "so that is MY fault." She shook her head at me and disagreed; that is still unprovoked, in fact, that is exactly the instantly-unpredictable, random bad behavior they are looking for.

I certainly didn't think it was unprovoked, but officially, it was. They would have to trap the cat and see if it was rabid.

And get this: to check the cat for rabies, they have to cut off its head.

So, even if the poor stray feline in question doesn't have rabies, the poor cat has still lost its head. :(

I was reminded of those tests for witchcraft in the Middle Ages, in which some poor accused girl would have a boulder tied to her waist and was then thrown into a lake. If she was guilty of witchcraft, of course, she would float. There really is no way to win that one.

And it was the same for the poor kitty. I was horrified and felt terribly guilty. If I had never fed the damn cat in the first place, none of this would have happened. (I also thought of Star Trek's prime directive, and remembered that I had always believed it was a fine idea. Thus, I regarded this as the penalty for my direct interference in Feral Cat Civilization.) Mr Daisy said he hoped this was the end of "Dances with Cats"--for awhile, at least.

The DHEC guy brought the cage-trap and set it on my terrace. When the stray kitty came to eat lunch, as he always did, he was caught in the trap. The guy returned the next day (the cat sat out there in the trap, yowling the whole time, making me feel like a sadist and killer) and took him away. My then-teenaged daughter alternately sobbed and glared at me. I made a mental note to leave the feral animals alone forever after, and I have kept my promise to myself, regardless of how winsome and wonderful they appear. (As they all do, to me.)

The verdict? The stray kitty didn't have rabies, as I knew he did not.

~*~

I recently wondered why I felt so deeply about the cat, and experienced such guilt over his death, when I do not feel this way about humans who bite me. Literally or figuratively. I usually believe they get what they deserve.

Not only did I totally overlook the damage the cat inflicted on me, I somehow believed I had caused it. I was the catalyst for his actions, after all. I immediately sought the reason for his behavior, and in doing so, quickly figured out his ears were sensitive. I took all responsibility on myself. I only went to the doctor and reported it when I realized I was sick. I was ready to forgive and forget, and give him more food besides.

Some of the people I worked with thought I was crazy: "An animal bites me, I'll kill it!" Or at least kick it or do something. The self-defined cat people were more sympathetic, but not uniformly so. Feral cats are dangerous, they said. Many said they would have no sympathy for a cat that harmed them; good riddance.

~*~

Today, I realized... some people are as over-sensitive in various spots and at various junctures, as my stray kitty was about his ears. Get too close, and CRUNCH, they will bite you, big time. I'm sure you know what I mean; it has happened to you, too. And yet, for some reason, I don't excuse the people who bite me, the way I excused the cat. I do not take total responsibility for being the catalyst; I certainly don't fret that they are suffering on my account. I do not instantly search for the possible reason for their sudden attack, and as a result, feel more compassion.

Why do you suppose that is?

Because we cast ourselves in the role of caretakers of the animals? Custodians of the earth, etc? But doesn't that role extend to other humans? Why doesn't it?

Do we assume humans "know better"? And why (chuckle) would we assume such a thing? On one hand, we know humans are completely capable of acting like animals, and yet, on the other, we are always shocked when they do.

I thought of this story while asking myself if I am capable of compassion on a deep level. I doubted it, and then, remembered the feral kitty. I look at the scar on my thumb and remember the surprise of his sudden attack. And yet, in seconds, I forgave him. I was crushed when DHEC took him away.

I have resolved to attempt to replicate this consciousness the next time humans disappoint me, and bite.

I will look for the ear mites; I will attempt to figure out if I got too close, and if this person jumped in pure animal reflex as a result. I will try to perceive in what ways I was the catalyst for the bite. I will forgive and try to remain forgiving.

It's a tall order for someone with such a bad temper as I often have. And yet, if I can suspend my temper for an animal, it seems that I should be able to suspend it for a human being.

Perhaps I can even nurture the opposite emotion, compassion.

Although of course, it really is hard to compare people to cats. But for me, its a good place to start.

Of all God's creatures there is only one that cannot be made the slave of the lash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat.

Mark Twain

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.

Another reason to avoid Facebook?

I am on Facebook, but as my pseudonym, DaisyDeadhead. I am too nervous about certain individuals locating me (see BAD TO THE BONE reference in my last post) to use my actual name, which as many of you know, is pretty distinctive.

I think the hypnotizing aspect of Facebook comes only when one uses one's real name. Apparently, and in relatively short order, you subsequently hear from everybody you ever knew in your life; it casts quite a spell. I think it can probably be compared to the first time we all signed on (I speak of those of us who did not grow up using computers) and started frenetically searching for people, places and things... and holy smoke, we FOUND em, too. It seemed miraculous and wonderful.

Facebook has the added pleasure of people looking for you, too.

It also has games and puzzles and photo albums and all kinds of nifty applications. It's bloody intoxicating. But there is a down-side, as DEAD AIR regular JoJo tells us. She describes her immersion in "all Facebook, all the time," and then describes how this state of affairs "abruptly ended when I was unceremoniously disabled by their software bot on Friday, August 14, 2009 at 5:30 pm, in the middle of my fave game, Pet Pupz."

Huh? Did you even know they did this to people? I didn't.

Jojo describes her Kafkaesque experience:

My offense? Wait for it.......I wrote on people's walls too fast!!!!! *GASP* DUN-DUN-dun. Apparently, one of the lovely drawbacks of Facebook, which I am now finding out about, is that, if you do ANYTHING too fast: comment, add friends, delete friends, send messages, receive messages, write on walls too much, send friend requests, etc., the bot picks up on it as "spamming". Then the person's account gets red flagged as a possible spammer. Earlier this spring, I had been carrying on some simultaneous conversations, via the comment box, on some of my friends' profiles. My commenting ability was promptly shut down for about 6 or 7 days. Since then, if I get too carried away commenting, I had 2 "pink slips" pop up on my screen, warning me that I was engaging in "abusive behavior."

Some of us are not teenagers looking for dates, some of us are GROWN WOMEN who have TYPED all of our adult lives for one company/corporation or another...as I have, as Jojo has. We type FAST. We learned to type our comments in the margins of our lives, when there was time, or (in my case) actually paid for how fast we could type. (Doing transcription, I was actually paid by the word or by the keystroke.)

Lemme wreck that Facebook thingie: boom, boom, boom, clackety-clackety go the keys.

Too fast? Amazing. Capitalism is all about faster-faster-faster, but when we are faster? They penalize you and assume there is something wrong.

And I thought they WANTED people to post and comment? There are certainly millions of opportunities, which seem to be increasing exponentially every time I sign on:

OK, for one thing, Facistbook are the ones that gave us the opportunity to comment on every single brain fart on our newsfeeds. When I first joined in the spring of 2008, all you could do was write on your friends' Walls. Now, you can comment on every quiz, application, status, video, photograph, poll, WHATEVER, that your friends publish. Then when you do so, they shut you down as a spammer. I am seeing more and more people show up in various chat rooms/chat boards, with the same problem I had: "All I did was respond to messages in my inbox", "All I did was write Happy Birthday on my friends' Walls".....etc.

Jojo tried to correct the situation, which she assumed was some bureaucratic error. (And it was, Facebook assumed she was spamming.) But this was still another nightmare:

God forbid there be an actual HUMAN that works there. There is zero customer service. All I was able to do was send an email to disabled@facebook.com, and all I got was a canned "thank for your inquiry, we'll look into it and get back to you in a few days" response. I have dug up every email I can find for Facistbook, to no avail. One of my friends sent me a phone number she found, but you get sent into a general voice mailbox.

My friends even started a group, petitioning for my return. Of course most of you already know that since you all joined. It makes me feel so good to see the names of people I know personally, friends I've met on FB, and people I don't even know who just want to support me. There's a guy named Rudy Arnauts who is doing a series of videos on You Tube, called "Meeting with Mark". He is trying to get Mark Zuckerberg's attention and set up a face to face meeting with him, to discuss this problem and the lack of customer service. His videos are very eloquent and he's the only person who is going to bat for us. Even if your account hasn't been disabled, it COULD happen. I encourage everyone to check out Rudy's 3rd installment.

Jojo describes the feelings she had as she was cut off from all her friends and familiar internet activities, which had become mostly Facebook-oriented.

Then, she got mad:

As my 2 week suspension drew closer, my emotions turned to anger. This is ridiculous. How can a social networking site disable their users FOR SOCIALIZING???? How can a social networking site create "limits" on how much you can do, WITHOUT TELLING YOU WHAT THE FUCKING LIMITS ARE? How can a social networking site give you the ability to comment on EVERYFUCKINGTHING, provide you with a list of upcoming birthdays then penalize you for using the features???? Seriously!!! All they tell you is to go read their Terms of Service which only generally outlines the fact that there are "limits" and if you exceed them, they reserve the right to disable you. And because we don't pay for the site, they don't give a tiny little rat's ass about the users.

Sure sounds like it.

Finally, she gets this email, which is, ummm... as we say here in the south, clear as mud:

"Hi Joanne,

Facebook has limits in place to prevent behavior that other users may find annoying or abusive. These limits restrict the rate at which you can use certain features on the site.

Unfortunately, we cannot provide you with the specific rates that have been deemed abusive.

Your account was disabled because you exceeded Facebook's limits on multiple occasions when writing on Walls, despite having been warned to slow down.

However, after reviewing your situation, we have reactivated your account, and you should now be able to log in. Please be aware that if your account is disabled again, we will not be able to reactivate it.

Once logged in, please slow down the rate at which you write on Walls. We appreciate your cooperation going forward.

Thanks for your understanding,

Lex
User Operations Facebook"

Well, you're too fast, but we can't say exactly HOW FAST.

Good God.

So, Jojo is back on Facebook, but not on her own terms or in her own style. She says lots of people are getting fed up:

they want to quit Facebook b/c this is happening to more and more people. And now I understand why my friends list fluctuates so much. People come and go, and now I know why.

Yes, I've noticed this too.

I would have joined Jojo's support group (or maybe I did and forgot?), but I don't do a lot of Facebook. Now, I am thinking that isn't such a bad idea.

Because you know what? I type like the wind. ;)

...

Has Facebook-suspension happened to any of you or your friends, relatives, co-workers, neighbors, etc? What was the situation? Have any of you attempted to contact customer service, and what was your experience?