Immigration reform! Ship THEM all back home or give THEM amnesty and let THEM stay. These are the extreme points of view.
If I knew the immigration laws I could write more knowledgeably about this mess.
What's the deal?
People are coming to the US in droves because things are pretty well fucked up in their home countries. You name them.
This place, US of A is so much better even if the illegals who make a hero's journey to get here are caught in the trap of having to carry around cash, when they get get work, which every shitbird knows about and takes the obvious action of robbing them or they wait around to do shit labor.
What to do. Give illegals the opportunity to legalize their existence here and bust the "business people" who take advantage of the precarious position by hiring illegals? Why not WPA like camps of illegals working on government projects while getting their legal shit in order. Have the camps take over the services provided by those that hired the illegals for pennies and make dollars off their labor and put those shits in jail. Job opportunities at correction facilities.
Then the BIG question arises. What's going on in these countries that make the herculean trip to this country worth it? Perhaps the money proposed to build a fence around our borders could be used to encourage our own corporation to set up shop in these countries. The wages would have to be at a life sustainable level for the workers.
California is bankrupt because it is trying to do the right thing for all. Why not act at the root of the influx of immigrants rather than spend all that dough flying or trucking them home?
I do have a selfish reason for proposing these solutions, I have not the ability to learn another language. I know a few Spanish words but cannot seem to grasp the sentence structure or all the words. I do enjoy the music of Spanish, even in anger (like Wagner). I enjoy the music of words, of communication. That's me.
Living in San Francisco again after 26 years elsewhere has been a cultural adaptation. I grew up here as a bit of a socialist, everyone watching out for everyone watching out for everyone else. Hippie shit. We're all in this together, let's help each other out.
The problem with that is the cost. Who wants to pay 29 to 59 % of their income to help their community? I will. Swedish is so hard to learn so I remain an American socialist. Anyway I hear they're having their own immigration problem although I have not researched it and truly, at this point, don't care about it. I am not moving unless a certain person will come with me. This is doubtful and probably will not happen since I like being with my brother and sisters and mother here in the cool gray city of love.
So, the other other comment I have is the seeming need to FIGHT for rights. Fortunately, working for change does the same thing without making pissy enemies. Che Guevara is no longer a viable icon. He killed to make his point and I hope those days are gone. Perhaps only for me.
The dreams of automatic weapons and explosives still occur bit only serve to depress me. I'm hoping the 21st century will evolve beyond such things but I am doubtful. This enforces the valuable effects of whiskey, which makes possible impossible dreams.
Written with unconditional love for a certain person on Queensbury Street.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Sitting In Judgement
The cars slowly roll through the Stop signs like predators searching for weakness. The forecast is for darkness through the night with brightening by morning. Waiting for the bus sitting on a bench built by the COE so the young lovers can make-out in the bus shelter.
Thinking of earlier in the day on 24th St. at Bernie's, a coffee room next to the Whole Foods store. A pleasant place to view the parade from. People walking their pets, mostly dogs and children of various types. Most of the children have vehicles to ride in, although some, as the dogs, are under their own power. The dogs are leashed for the most part.
A sign a Bernie's says, "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy." This seems to keep their owners attentive and the majority of kinderswine at Bernie's do not deserve that pejorative appellation. I admit a fondness for the word and like to say it whenever possible. It's very much like those who proclaim the US the greatest nation in the world. It may not be completely true but it is fun to say.
It's was a warm day, 84 in the city. This is hot to most San Franciscans although the newbies seem to find it "finally normal". The temperature at San Francisco Airport, which is some miles south in San Bruno, was 90. Snatches of cell phone conversations exclaim, "You need to sit out on your block and get some vitamin D . . .", ". . . and I just got so excited!", "I love you so much!", a father (supposed) says to his toddler son who is pointing and identifying the wonders he sees.
A pleasant parade with few unhappy creatures. Most of the people around here have good, well paying jobs. The stucco homes go for just under a million dollars. Rent in the Victorians is $2700/month. Working Man Victorians go for well over a million and some renovated places for several million.
This points out the whorish nature of San Francisco. 'Twas always thus. Good times, wondrous things to do, and glorious sights but you got to pay buddy. This, perhaps, is why this city is so tolerant. If you can afford it, you can be here. Tolerance and the freedom that it affords is the beauty of San Francisco. There is physical beauty too but it is the freedom to be an idiot, if you desire, that makes this place magical.
Thinking of earlier in the day on 24th St. at Bernie's, a coffee room next to the Whole Foods store. A pleasant place to view the parade from. People walking their pets, mostly dogs and children of various types. Most of the children have vehicles to ride in, although some, as the dogs, are under their own power. The dogs are leashed for the most part.
A sign a Bernie's says, "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy." This seems to keep their owners attentive and the majority of kinderswine at Bernie's do not deserve that pejorative appellation. I admit a fondness for the word and like to say it whenever possible. It's very much like those who proclaim the US the greatest nation in the world. It may not be completely true but it is fun to say.
It's was a warm day, 84 in the city. This is hot to most San Franciscans although the newbies seem to find it "finally normal". The temperature at San Francisco Airport, which is some miles south in San Bruno, was 90. Snatches of cell phone conversations exclaim, "You need to sit out on your block and get some vitamin D . . .", ". . . and I just got so excited!", "I love you so much!", a father (supposed) says to his toddler son who is pointing and identifying the wonders he sees.
A pleasant parade with few unhappy creatures. Most of the people around here have good, well paying jobs. The stucco homes go for just under a million dollars. Rent in the Victorians is $2700/month. Working Man Victorians go for well over a million and some renovated places for several million.
This points out the whorish nature of San Francisco. 'Twas always thus. Good times, wondrous things to do, and glorious sights but you got to pay buddy. This, perhaps, is why this city is so tolerant. If you can afford it, you can be here. Tolerance and the freedom that it affords is the beauty of San Francisco. There is physical beauty too but it is the freedom to be an idiot, if you desire, that makes this place magical.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Geez Us 1
Sitting in a coffee shop. Minimalistic, very zen. A stainless steel fountain consisting of a rectangular pedestal, pinched in the middle making a 3 dimensional X, topped with a sphere out of whose top slowly flows water. The faintest of sound. Thoughtful music by some Icelander band plays mournfully cheerful music.
I sip my coffee from the ceramic mug, fearless of possible lead contamination, more concerned with the taste of a paper cup ruining the flavor of the coffee.
Watching the Bottlebrush Tree out front waving in the breeze, I am in the zone. Content.
I am against the back wall in a low late 50's style vinyl and steel chair, the fountain to my right in the corner. In front of me sit two young men at a 4 top, babbling on about vectors and virtual reality. They wear T-shirts with a gaming company logo, jeans with wallet chains and leather shoes. Nice shoes. These guys are doing alright for themselves. Technicians discussing their triumph over a seemingly insoluble problem now nicely done. The pleasure of technical expertise. Only sex is better, good loving sex, or a really good dump, really good, the result of a balance of fiber and oils, no toilet paper necessary. Life can be exquisite.
Technicians, like Wernher Von Braun who mastered the first rocket missile for Hitler or his associate and enabler, Albert Speer, who keep the Nazi war industry purring despite devastating bombing raids. Insoluble problems solved.
Robert Oppenheimer, another technician, assembled a boat load of technicians like Bohr, Szilard, Fermi, and Teller to name a few. Together they solved the problem of creating one of those now famous WMDs, the atomic bomb.
Baby Boomers grew up learning how they would be vaporized if they didn't go to the basement and, sitting with backs against the wall, put their heads between their legs. Psychoanalysis thrived.
I sip my coffee from the ceramic mug, fearless of possible lead contamination, more concerned with the taste of a paper cup ruining the flavor of the coffee.
Watching the Bottlebrush Tree out front waving in the breeze, I am in the zone. Content.
I am against the back wall in a low late 50's style vinyl and steel chair, the fountain to my right in the corner. In front of me sit two young men at a 4 top, babbling on about vectors and virtual reality. They wear T-shirts with a gaming company logo, jeans with wallet chains and leather shoes. Nice shoes. These guys are doing alright for themselves. Technicians discussing their triumph over a seemingly insoluble problem now nicely done. The pleasure of technical expertise. Only sex is better, good loving sex, or a really good dump, really good, the result of a balance of fiber and oils, no toilet paper necessary. Life can be exquisite.
Technicians, like Wernher Von Braun who mastered the first rocket missile for Hitler or his associate and enabler, Albert Speer, who keep the Nazi war industry purring despite devastating bombing raids. Insoluble problems solved.
Robert Oppenheimer, another technician, assembled a boat load of technicians like Bohr, Szilard, Fermi, and Teller to name a few. Together they solved the problem of creating one of those now famous WMDs, the atomic bomb.
Baby Boomers grew up learning how they would be vaporized if they didn't go to the basement and, sitting with backs against the wall, put their heads between their legs. Psychoanalysis thrived.
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