Compassionate Conservatism

Okay, War is around the corner. I think old Saddam should beware the Ides of March. Or maybe this will go down in history as the St. Patrick's Day War. Or maybe George the Second is trying to make sure that in the future, there will be a March holiday. Supposedly, he is not one that really was grand about school while he was in it, so perhaps he remembers how long March seems to elementary school kids, with no holidays to break it up (unless your Catholic and happen to be going to a parochial school, and get lucky and Easter comes early), so he is thinking of March having a "VI (Victory over Iraq) Holiday".

Anyway, every one thinks this has to do with Saddam playing hide and go seek with his Weapons of Mass Destruction, and George the Second trying to get back at Saddam for trying to off George the First when he visited Kuwait after the war. (I dunno, if some one tried to assassinate your dad, would you be a bit ticked off at him?) But I figured it out, this war has nothing to do with either, it has to do with housing.

You see, George ran as a compassionate conservative. Which, I am told, has nothing to do with sex or preserving natural resources, but something to do with poor and middle class people getting the impression that rich people are all as mean and nasty as Leona Helmsley and interested in nothing but holding on to as much money as they can and getting more. It seems rich people are getting a bit of a complex, and want the people who are struggling just to get by to know that the rich actually do care what happens to them, as if the struggling ones don't buy the stuff the companies that the rich people own sell then the rich can't quite be as rich as they are. And there is this little thing that is called "class warfare" and "revolution" that has this nasty habit of coming up every time there is a large mass of people frustrated with not being able to find a decent job or make a living. So some one took a public relations poll and found out that "compassion" is a very warm and friendly word, which makes people think of their Mom's holding them in her lap when they were sick and singing softly to them. As opposed to "conservative" which is a rather harsh word that makes people think of some one saying "you can't have any more because we have to conserve it". Which led them to sort of think maybe if they put the two words together people would think of their Mom's holding them in her lap and singing "you can't have any more because we have to conserve it".

Anyway, these Compassionate Conservatives have stopped issuing Section 8 vouchers nationwide. Now, Section 8, is a Federally financed program for low income people to help these people find housing out in the community. It has been the Holy Mecca for people seeking housing assistance, because instead of getting stuck in some public housing project, they can use the voucher to go find an apartment out in the community, near where they want to live, school their children, and work. In other words, it allows people, who other wise would not have the opportunity, to live as a some what normal person would. Section 8 vouchers allow people to make choices, something that is rather dear Americans, as making choices implies freedom. Section 8, by all reports, has been a tremendously successful program. People on Section 8 reportedly make more money, hold jobs longer, and move off welfare quicker, than people in traditional public housing. There are many theories for this, but in my opinion, it probably has to do with the fact you don't have people "ghetto-ized". They are not around people who are all at the bottom, instead, they are surrounded by neighbors who work, raise kids, and have lives. Therefore, there is a social pressure, to try to do as well as your neighbors. Sometimes, trying to keep up with the Joneses is a good thing.

The other thing about Section 8, is that it puts money back into the community. People in public housing pay their rent to a housing authority, which does not pay taxes, has no motivation or interest in making sure its complexes are clean, safe or attractive to its tenants, because it's tenants have no other place to go. They are stuck there, till they find a good enough job to get them out. The maintenance doesn't have to be that quick, because who can the tenant complain to? The housing authorities have no incentive to try to keep their utility bills down, because housing authorities are reimbursed for utility bills by the Federal Government. So for most public housing residents, they pay no utility costs. This means they can run their home as hot as they want, use as much electricity as they want, run the water all the time. There is no metering, no cost to them. Section 8 tenants live in private housing, which means they property is owned and operated by a person or company that DOES pay taxes, taxes which go back into communities and help support their schools, roads and institutions. The property owner has an interest in trying to get people to live there, as that is how they make money, so they want their property to be clean, safe, and eye-catching. The resident is responsible for the utility costs, which means he or she has an interest in being wise with its usage, and conserve. Once again, there is a responsibility on the Section 8 recipient to live much as some one with out that assistance has to.

So, it would seem that a compassionate conservative logically would be saying, gee, we have all of this property tied up in housing authorities, not paying taxes, not being productive, some of it quite lucrative if we were to auction it off (one of the largest public housing complexes in New York City is right next door to Central Park, where two bedroom condos in the same area can fetch over two million dollars). And not only that, but people don't even WANT to live in these public housing complexes (one out of three families living in New York City shelters refuse public housing, incidental reporting indicates mostly due to fears over safety, crime and drugs). And one of the biggest handicaps people have about finding work is finding work where they live, so why not shut down public housing except for that reserved for the handicapped and disabled, and give people vouchers so they can live where there is work, good schools, and opportunity?

Now, you are going, "Wow, that makes sense, and it even means more people will be paying taxes into the community where they live.. how come they aren't doing that? What is wrong with these "compassionate conservatives" ? Did George the Second forget something?"

Well, that is where this upcoming war comes into play my friends. And here is your answer.

You see, George is very aware of the housing crisis. I think his heart honestly aches as he looks out into the Washington DC landscape, and sees these ugly public housing complexes that would make even an East German communist architect throw up due to the assault on his aesthetic sensabilities. They are just that damn ugly. Most of them look like scars on the sky when you see them. And you can see some really nasty scars as you drive along the highways that pass around Washington, DC. And I think George knows there are people out there, accepting shoddy housing which they have to pay half of their minimum wage income for each month, as they wait on the Housing Authority list, which in some cases is over three years long, in towns they don't have any interest in being in, and is an hour or so from where they work, but they can't get housing in the place where they work because the housing list is closed. So when George received his reports from the CIA about Saddam and his 10 or 12 or more Presidential Palaces, a light went on in his head.

You see, George is a pretty simple guy really. He looks at his five thousand acre ranch in Texas, and thinks everyone should have one. But only one. And when he found out every town with more than two mud holes in Iraq had a Presidential Palace, he was rather upset. To him that is just a bit to much conspicuous consumption. I mean, gosh, even Bill Gates only has four homes, and one of those is in Switzerland of all places.

So George sat down with Dick Cheney, Connie Rice, and hatched a plan. And this is what I think the plan is.

George is going to go kick Saddam out. Then he is going to send in the US Army's 1125th Special Housing Brigade to audit what housing is up to snuff in Iraq, and offer low income Americans vouchers for Presidential Palaces. Now, as these palaces are rather nice, some of them with marble floors, saunas and hot baths, and gold plated bathrooms fixtures, I would imagine there will be a lottery for who gets what Palace, and then they will move to the Vice Presidential Palace, the Prime Minister's Residence, and then on to the homes of those Generals and Colonel’s Saddam had shot for not stopping the US Marine Corps from taking over Basra. Then they'll probably evict some of Saddam's family from the homes they haven't been paying rent or taxes on for the past thirty years, and lottery them off.

Now with this sudden influx of who will be come to be known as American Iraqis, George will have a rather nice voter base there who will rather pleased as punch the American President got them a voucher for a Presidential Palace with a gold plated faucet. And so, he'll send over the Republican National Committee's Foreign Outreach and Soft Money Donation Collection Squad, and remind these new residents that they can petition Congress to become a state. And the next thing you know, the flag will have 51 stars on it, and we'll have a friendly little place where we can put the 1st Armored Division right next door to Saudi Arabia, so the next time OPEC even thinks the words "oil embargo" we can remind them just who their best customer is.

So, the next time you see Colin Powell at the United Nations, looking totally exasperated because no one else in the world seems to get that a tin pot megalomaniacal sadistic dictator just shouldn't be allowed to have nerve gas or anthrax, you can feel sorry for him, cause George has him out of the loop. It isn't Weapons of Mass Destruction, its Housing.




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Okay, I flunked spelling.

Now, this would not be such a big deal, except that I love busting on my Brazilian pal Viv because she insists on spelling labor with a u. Queen's English and all of that. So, it becomes important when I do write something that she might see to actually have my spelling all proper (or at least proper American English) so she has as little ammo to blast me with as possible. Obviously, I'm failing.

Okay, I'm at work once again. On a Sunday, scheduled from 1500 to 1800 (3pm to 6pm for the 24 hour challenged) which makes no sense what so ever. We are getting nearly no calls, i.e., call volume is very low. There are plenty of people scheduled to 6pm who are working "full" days. So why bring in some one for just 3 hours? I have a hard time thinking this is cost effective. But I'm here, and I could use the money, (as little as it is) so I'll take the hours. And what the hell, it lets me type some more here, which has become a bit of a relief.

It is funny, but I have only been doing this "regularly" now for three days, and it already has become a bit of a stress reliever. I find I am actually looking forward to getting to just sit and type and see the words displayed. I have to wonder if it is the rythum of the keys, the sounds of the typing, the reward of having my efforts there to be displayed. The psychology of this simple activity seems to be more than the sum of the actions.

L~ is here, looking very nice in the row across from me. Wearing a white sweater and playing a web based Tetris clone. I haven't been able to find my glasses for the past three days so she is a bit of blur. Nearsightedness sucks. I want to get lasik (laser surgery) and be able to see with out the damn things, but it is expensive. And reportedly, you do sacrafice a little of your night vision. But it would be nice to not have to worry about glasses any more. Fortunately I get paid on Tuesday, so I'll go pick up a copy of my perscription from my doctor and go get new glasses, and then I'll be able to see again.

It is time for a couple of new pair of jeans as well. Both of my "daily wear" pairs have a hole on the right leg just above the knee. I've managed to lose a little weight too, so time to get down a size. Now if I can keep that up. If I was to lose four inches off my waist this year I would be a very happy boy. Just have to find a way to get to the gym, which is more a function of money than transportation or time.

Okay, I'm out of ideas to write about, so off to Pogo to do tumblebees or something like that.

Til next time...

Editing

Well, am at work again and I just took a look at yesterday's post. It was embarrasing to see so many typo's and spelling mistakes. I am not the world's greatest speller, but even I can catch "othere", well, at least I thought I could catch "othere" till I read yesterday's post and had it stick out like a grand jury indictment of my ability to form proper words and sentences. If, as I stated nearly a year ago, the main purpose of typing here is for me to work on my ability to write, then I need to be able to form sentences that are well formed and complete. And I need to spell correctly, so that the reader is not forced to decode my meaning from the jumble of letters which may or may not make proper words.

Still, as they say, practice makes perfect, and at least I have started practicing. I have been afraid to post here for so long because I have been stubbornly holding on to the idea that each and every post I write has to be some profound insightful essay on the state of the world and what should be done about it. Which is a nice thought, that a practice page some how should be inspiring and perceptive, but totally unrealistic and really, contradictory to what I set out to do. If I am going to practice to write here, than I have to accept that what I write may not always be the most orginal or profound or the best of what I may create. Was every work of Hemmingway a masterpiece? Was every story of F. Scott Fitzgerld a classic? I set my goals way to high and my expectations on the summit of the mountain, with out ever even considering the base. Foolish, and ultimately, destructive to the effort.

Anyway, my food has arrived, hopefully I'll get to take a break before it goes totally cold, and I can enjoy it. Only other thing I have to do is figure out how to add comment boxes to this thing.

Till next time (which is shortly coming)

Okay, another day, another dollar.

Though, I suppose if I considered all the intangibles of this place, travel, clothing, food, etc. I would be lucky to show a profit for the day. No wonder economics is called the dismal science.

So L~ has had her nose in a magazine all day, and the few times I have tried to speak to her, the tone in her voice has been that "I really don't want to talk to YOU today" type tone. L~ is this very bright, VERY attractive 21 year old soon to be paralegal with a dream of being a prosecutor someday. My first day at work here, she told me that I reminded her of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. That pretty much doomed my chances of robbing the cradle right there. At least as a Simpson's watcher that pretty much puts her in with the rather dry Swiftonian social satire intellectual tradition, even if she doesn't realize it. L~ reminds me Halle Berry with longer hair. She has the same eyes and very soft full lips. Every time I come to work I try to sit in such a way that I can just see her face without getting caught staring, just because I enjoy the beauty of it. It seems just typing that sentence you can hear people going "Yeah right, just the beauty, suuurreeeee buddy". And I am not going to lie, if I could date L~ I would. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the pure beauty of a person or just humanity. The other day I was video chatting with a woman whom I talk to every now and then. She wasn't wearing much, (ah the comforts of home!) and I found my self just suddenly struck with the inherent beauty of the curve of her body from her chest to her hips. I really didn't focus on anything other than just that curve, the line drawn in space by her form, and it just struck me as a perfect form, that you could have taken that line and used it in a painting of a field or sky or building, and it would have been just pleasing to the eye. Sometimes beauty is like that, that it is nothing more than asthetics, just the enjoyment of a pleasing shape or sound.

But yeah, I wish I could ask L~ out. She is a fascinating woman. You can see that she is bored at this job, but I get the feeling she isn't really looking for a job that is a challenge, but something to put some cash in her pocket while she is at school. Still, there is a mind there, one that I think has a lot more that the two mutually hostile brain cells most of the drones at this place seem to get by with.

Okay, enough on that. Yes I'm bored again. I wonder how many creative expressions and moments have occured out of simple boredom. Answering the phone to check if "Friends Trivia in a Tin" is currently in stock just doesn't get the juices flowing you know? But at least I escape out of here before midnight this time, and can go work on my resume tonight a little so that hopefully soon I will escape to something a little more challenging. I would imagine there are many owners and operators of companies that would be totally up in arms that I'm using my time at work to type this stuff on the net. And frankly, I think they are right, it is in some respects, and ethical violation and breach of trust. But I would submit in my own defense that I did exhaust all avenues of doing productive work, every time I get a call I minmize this block and fully spend my time on the call. And have not hid what I am doing from my supervisor at all. So, don't expect me to feel guilty Mr. Boss. I'm not costing you any money.

Ah the women in my so called life. L~ who Flanderizes me. (I wonder if THAT is covered under Georgia law, "degrading and in-human acts?) S~ my lesbian bud, who I love so much, and who I haven't heard from in three months. 6er, off with her girl friend in Iowa, whom both protects me like mother and whom I worry about more than she knows. Viv, the sanest and smartest woman in Brazil, who just doesn't realize just how damn good she is. ~C~ who I just talk to on Yahoo, as she keeps a moving wall between me and any chance to be admitted to her real life. E* who pretty much is the same. And Amanda Hudson who guards her real life tighter than anything in Fort Knox. Amanda is a joy to talk to, some one who is sweet and very caring, but she doesn't trust anyone. Contradictory I know, but the cyber world is a weird world. Keeping your distance is part of the life on the net, which is both fair, and at the same time isn't. Oh well... cyber relationships.. who would have ever even considered such a thing 10 years ago? Who would have guessed?

Okay, ten minutes left, time to clean up and get ready to evade and escape out of here.

Till next time.

Why does anyone like the Holidays?

I'm sitting here at work, illegally sneaking on the net to blow off some steam in between calls. Right now I have to take calls for a major retail chain dealing with their first day of post-Christmas returns. Few of my fellow workers seem to have smiles, the people calling on the phones seem to be either in a frazzled hunt for a last minute toy or gift for an obvious weekend trip, or attempting to find away to return the toy/trinket/trifle they recieved yesterday and broke, busted or simply did not want for as much cash as they can possibly get. The most interesting item asked for so far, is the "pregnant Barbie doll" which I have to wonder if this is some sort of internet hoax. Or creation of a mad scientist. Pregnant Barbie? Obviously, with those breasts, milk production won't be a problem, but I have serious doubts about any kid making it through those hips. And would Barbie ever put up with a Cesarian scar? Never mind all the issues about Barbie and birth control. With Ken obviously gay, who is the father? GI Joe finally get back from leave and have a wild thing fling before getting shipped off to Afghanistan? As an independant woman of the 21st century, hasn't Barbie ever heard of birth control? Or for all of these years, was those come hither eyes and pouty succubus lips affixed to some born-again fundamentalist troglodyte? We all knew Barbie was no virgin, we didn't need the lingerie Barbie to tell us that. And really, did Mattel object that much to the S&M version? Was it really they were worried about the "damage" it would do to Barbie's rep? Or the fact that she was finally out of the closet? Now we know what she really does to Ken in the basement of that dream house. And we won't go into the fact all her friends seem to be younger females. Hmm, a tall blonde with a flock of young impressionable women hanging around her... Mustang Ranch Barbie will probably be next years collectable.

Okay, 1710 (that's 5:10pm for you non-European or militarily challenged types) and being able to be absurd in an absurd world (and blanket a friend of mine with SMS messages as well) has managed to make checking to see if Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was in stock somehow bareable. Now if I can just last 4 hours and twenty more minutes.

Till next time...

Re-reading what you have written after a few hour break has to be one of the most painful things one can do to a Blog. My spelling simply is horrible and my grammar not much better. Thank you for the little "edit" key..

But for now, sleep.

Til next time.

Obviously, it has been a great deal of time since I have written here. This deserves some explanation.

There is something inherently self-absorbed about typing an online journal. In doing so, you can't quite escape the idea that it lumps you in with thousands of teenage girls all writing their "truly deepest thoughts" so that others may be impressed with how profound and deep they are. Even though they carefully edit each and every word to conform to what is politically correct with the crowd they hang around with in high school. So to make this worthwhile not just for myself but for the reader, I really needed to stop and think about what I wanted to accomplish with this little niche of cyber-space.

My principal goal remains to use this place to work on my writing. For it to be a means by which I can increase my skill and confidence in being able to craft a well written story or essay. I struggle greatly with my writing, and I continue to look at it as not good enough. Therefore, in the skewed logic of emotional turpidity, I avoid writing. But in doing so, I am not doing myself justice. I have been told several times, both by people that I know and teachers, professors and even people that I worked for and produced products for, that I write well. Yet this has not been enough for me to escape my own feeling that my writing is never "good enough". I want my prose to naturally be, withour revision or rewrite, as good as what I saw in Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea". Which, frankly is silly and impossible. I do not know how much Hemmingway re-wrote and re-crafted his stories, but I firmly believe what Jay Atkinson taught in his classes. That writing is craft, paragraphs are there to be honed and shaped by writing and re-writing and revision and time. I thing that the first draft of a manuscript, while it may be inspired, can be polished to become something even more beautiful.

My problem is this, I am an inspiration writer. I write from my train of thought. My words speak to this page from a mental voice, saying out loud to my fingers what I wish to appear. In many ways, my written speach parallels very closely the way in which I speak. This is both an advantage and a handicap. It is an advantage, as for many people, having a book "speak" to them as if some one was there telling them a story, hearing the author's inflection and tone, is what makes a published word enjoyable. This is why novels are on the New York Times Bestseller list and not textbooks. Few and far between are the textbooks bought for the enjoyment of reading them, while most novels are bought simply for that purpose. The last act of genius that will ever be accomplished in the world is by the person who writes a math text book where people read it as if it was the latest in the Harry Potter series. It is a problem as it makes it that much harder to revise. Once you say something, how often do you sit and re-say it? With the goal of perhaps editing it and re-saying, only to do this once again till you have what you wanted to say in the most colorful yet terse sentance. People do not naturally wish to edit their words. That is why, the phrase "what I meant to say" conveys so much embarrasement with out the slightest indication in the words of any shame or chagrin.

So I am conflicted. Which is a problem and also a gift. Conflict by its nature, provides energy and inspiration. It provides a means by which what is strongest is discovered. Many would argue that which is strongest is not always best, nor does it account for luck, Goliath still is the fearsome giant, and David, the pipsqueak whom fortune (or God) smiled upon. But conflict, is the best I have, and by which, is what I will have to make due with.

So, why do a Blog at all? Here I am, condeming this to be a superficial adolescent exercise in sheer futility as I am hopessly perfectionistic and conflicted about what I what from this. Would seem to be an exercise in self-destructive behavior, no?

I am writing here, because there is part of me that does have something to say. I have many ideas that float through my head. Maybe they are all bad ideas, worthless and just so much drivel, or maybe in them there is a element of truth. I don't know. I like to think that perhaps there is some truth to them. That the thoughts and ideas that I want to express will give some one pause to think, to consider and reflect. That maybe some one who reads something here someday will have a choice phrase or sentance pop into their head, and it means something more to them than just a few words on a screen. I would like to think that my writing someday makes a difference to some one. That some one, some place, finds it to be something to keep.

Jay Atkinson faulted me for my attempted at an ending on the sole essay I managed to submit, and I am afraid I am going to fail here as well. I don't know really how to close this little note. I think probably because I have so much more I want to say. But for now, real life requires that I stop, and deal with its demands.

Til next time.

Egads, it actually worked!!! I managed to get something up! Looks like I will have to redo the entire introduction though. And I changed the template to!!! Makes me feel like a techno-wizzy! (Or is that some teenage kid on extacsy taking a piss?) Anyway.. it is a start, not the start intended, or even that pretty a start. More of a start sort of like the bull in the rodeo coming out of the shoot, triping and falling before he even has a chance to buck the cowboy all over the place.

Anyway, more to come after I do this dishes and make tonight's spaghetti.

Ah the wonderfulness of being a blogger newbie. I typed in a wonderful introduction to this last night, and here it is, nearly a full day later, and nothing on my site. Makes me wonder if this is going to be a fun little thing to do, or a lesson in frustration. Back to the instructions. Maybe I will find the templates they talk about this time.

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