I know I'm behind the times on this one, but as mentioned in the previous post, I've been on vacation. I have been stupid enough to check out the Peoria Journal Star web site, and caught Terry Bibo's gossip column on Michael Levan a week ago. I just can't let it go without comment.
There are some people with positions in life that really make you wonder... If Terry Bibo can be a columnist at the Journal Star, why haven't I written the great American novel? If Dan Lietch can be a State Representative, why am I not at least in the Senate? If George Bush can be President of the most powerful nation on earth, why am I not the Supreme Ruler of the known universe? All fair and relevant questions.
I admit, I rarely read Bibo. I find her columns fluffy and, well, ditzy. "Ditzy" is an adjective I really dislike using to describe a fellow female, so I prefer to side step her rants all together. A friend called me and told me I simply "HAD to read her one sided, totally unfair, gossip column about Michael Levan." So, I made the mistake of logging on.
What a column of crap. Why did the editors of the Journal Star allow it to be printed? Stupid question. Last Sunday, Bibo felt the need to publish the criminal history of Michael Levan. Levan, who would readily admit he isn't an angel, has a long arrest record. Apparently, he has been arrested about forty times mostly during his troubled youth. Levan is about forty years old.
Bibo points out Levan's arrest record and not much else. When I read about the troubled history of an individual, I want to know the full story. That is, I want the journalist to her job. How and why does one get arrested 40 times? What in his past caused him to behave so poorly? Was he beaten as a child? Victimized by a cruel step parent? Were his bones broken? Was he put in and pulled out of countless foster homes? Was he so abused and neglected that he was forced to eat from garbage cans as a kid? What is Levan doing now? Does he own property? Does he pay taxes? Did he suffer terrible brain injuries due to a recent car accident and made a miraculous recovery? Does he have a healthy and promising relationship with a lovely fiancee? Does he care for his aging mother? Has he turned his life around? Is he trying? Levan is well known to those that grew up on the East Bluff. Levan is well known period. The answers to such questions can be easily and readily found by a journalist willing to do a semi-thorough job. Bibo doesn't qualify.
I think Bibo is doing the dirty work of the Teplitz's. You see, Levan has been working hard to expose the alleged dirty dealings of the Roanoke Neighborhood Association, formerly headed by former City Councilwoman Marcella Teplitz and her attorney husband, Jack. Serious questions such as, "What the feck happened to all the money?" have been asked regarding the Roanoke Fund, which was recently revoked by City Council. It doesn't look good for the Roanoke Association, and it looks really, really bad for the Teplitz's.
Apparently it's politics (i.e., The recently ousted "Progressives") and journalism (i.e., The Journal Star) as usual in Peoria.
The two have a more incestuous relationship than fruit flies.
Tuesday, October 4
S.O.P.P. Save Our Peoria Pundit!
Okay, I was enjoying a nice vacation browning myself on the beach. I wasn't going to resume any responsibilities -or blogging- until I had attained the same lovely dark roasted espresso hue as our beloved Mayor, Jim Ardis. Hard to achieve when I still feel compelled to slather myself with SPF 4. Or baby oil. Or Crisco. But that's another completely irrelevant story.
What shocked me into dragging my lap top onto the beach is that Bill Dennis, blogger extraordinaire, of The Peoria Pundit HAS GONE OFF THE AIR. OR INTERNET. OR WHATEVER. I wouldn't know what the feck a blog was without Bill. Because of him, I still hold out hope that some day I maybe able to link properly or even post a picture. Okay, the later is reaching, I admit. Nonetheless, we must get this man some money. NOW. I am willing to contribute, but Bill, I gotta be able to do so anonymously! You can post "Polly Peoria" on your friends' list, but that Pay Pal button requires that I reveal my identity and my ass would be so FIRED if my bosses knew what I really thought of them. How about providing a snail mail address?
Some how, some way, I'm going to get this hard worker/blogger/journalist/purveyor of eye candy/disher of Peoria dirt/ some of the funds he desperately needs and is really entitled too. Most of us bloggers do this as a hobby, to vent and spew our profound and superior intellects *snicker* into cyberspace in order to keep those who love and live with us from beating us mercilessly -but deservedly- over the head with a heavy shovel. Bill Dennis is a professional, and runs a professional blog. Yeah, even with the eye candy. You ever notice how much eye candy is in the New York Times? Washington Post? Wall Street Journal?
The Peoria Pundit is NEEDED. Notice how often local politicians post on his blog? The Peoria Pundit allows us to get the real scoop, not the tainted synopsis provided by the Journal Star editorial page.
A donation to Bill falls slightly behind a donation for hurricane relief in priority. Bill is THAT good. He is that IMPORTANT.
I'm even gonna send him my beer money for the week. Now that's sacrifice.
What shocked me into dragging my lap top onto the beach is that Bill Dennis, blogger extraordinaire, of The Peoria Pundit HAS GONE OFF THE AIR. OR INTERNET. OR WHATEVER. I wouldn't know what the feck a blog was without Bill. Because of him, I still hold out hope that some day I maybe able to link properly or even post a picture. Okay, the later is reaching, I admit. Nonetheless, we must get this man some money. NOW. I am willing to contribute, but Bill, I gotta be able to do so anonymously! You can post "Polly Peoria" on your friends' list, but that Pay Pal button requires that I reveal my identity and my ass would be so FIRED if my bosses knew what I really thought of them. How about providing a snail mail address?
Some how, some way, I'm going to get this hard worker/blogger/journalist/purveyor of eye candy/disher of Peoria dirt/ some of the funds he desperately needs and is really entitled too. Most of us bloggers do this as a hobby, to vent and spew our profound and superior intellects *snicker* into cyberspace in order to keep those who love and live with us from beating us mercilessly -but deservedly- over the head with a heavy shovel. Bill Dennis is a professional, and runs a professional blog. Yeah, even with the eye candy. You ever notice how much eye candy is in the New York Times? Washington Post? Wall Street Journal?
The Peoria Pundit is NEEDED. Notice how often local politicians post on his blog? The Peoria Pundit allows us to get the real scoop, not the tainted synopsis provided by the Journal Star editorial page.
A donation to Bill falls slightly behind a donation for hurricane relief in priority. Bill is THAT good. He is that IMPORTANT.
I'm even gonna send him my beer money for the week. Now that's sacrifice.
Monday, September 26
Dairy King in the Gov's Mansion?
Received a form from Senator/Governor Wanna-be Oberweis today. Yeah. Like I'm going to circulate this guy's petition. I gotta take care of a few things first. Like counting each individual fiber in my shag carpet. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Oberweis, you make an outstanding chocolate peanutbutter ice cream. (No kidding. It is amazing.) But this guy has no shot in hell of holding an elected office higher than precinct committeeman, and even that's a stretch.
Would someone with a brain please report to Republican headquarters?
Christ, what is taking so long to come up with a viable candidate for Governor?
Edgar, get in the game or get out. I don't care. If you don't decide shortly I will not vote for you based on the fact you clearly cannot crap and get off the pot in a timely manner. Plus, I still remember that education tax stunt you tried to pull just before your last term was up.
You ain't as Republican as you appear, but at least we know you're not too good to live in Springfield.
Would someone with a brain please report to Republican headquarters?
Christ, what is taking so long to come up with a viable candidate for Governor?
Edgar, get in the game or get out. I don't care. If you don't decide shortly I will not vote for you based on the fact you clearly cannot crap and get off the pot in a timely manner. Plus, I still remember that education tax stunt you tried to pull just before your last term was up.
You ain't as Republican as you appear, but at least we know you're not too good to live in Springfield.
Saturday, September 24
End Abortion. Issue Sex Licenses.
Don't bother reading this unless you are going to read the ENTIRE post.
I am pro life. I'm anti abortion with all the sad, but necessary, exceptions: rape, incest, when the pregnancy endangers the life of the mother, or when the baby so morbidly deformed it would only know a life of endless physical pain if born. Yeah, it happens. More than you think.
If one makes the decision to have sex, the natural consequence is pregnancy. If one makes the decision to have sex and responsibly uses the best birth control available, pregnancy is still a risk. Compare it to driving a car. I know, there are HUGE differences, but stay with me here. The only way emotional issues are ever intelligently debated/discussed is with logic.
When you turned sixteen, after months of supervised instruction, you probably went to the Department of Motor Vehicles. You took an eye exam, a driving test and completed a written exam. At that point, the State deemed you intelligent and competent to get behind the wheel of a multi-ton vehicle capable of high speeds. Driving is the most dangerous activity most of us ever engage in. Society trusts you to make good decisions in an inherently dangerous situation daily.
So, lets say you are driving home one very dark night on an isolated road. You have both hands on the wheel. You haven't had a single alcoholic beverage. You are not speeding. You are not sleepy. You are not talking on a freaking cell phone. You are not distracted by turning the dial on your radio, picking your nose, scratching your butt, or even sipping a latte. You are the Felix Unger of safe driving.
A pedestrian steps into the path of your car. Some air head jogger, complete with a MP3 player blaring rap music in her ears, wearing all black, who didn't bother to look both ways before crossing the street. You couldn't see her. You couldn't stop in time. You collide right into her.
The jogger, bleeding heavily, likely mortally wounded and in great pain, moans for help. You are scared. You might be charged with vehicular homicide. Involuntary manslaughter. You weren't doing anything wrong, but hell, you know lawyers now days. You could go to prison and the jogger's family could sue you in civil court. You could lose absolutely everything. Again, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You took every precaution. You're a good person.
Do you have to stop and give aid?
Yes. Of course. Such an accident is a daily risk of driving. Despite the best intentions and precautions, such tragedies happen. As a society, we trust you to manage the risk and behave humanely should such a horrific event occur. Society and the State trusted you with a license and a car, you should trust us (society and the State) to sort it all out. You have to trust the police to measure the skid marks correctly. You have to trust the District Attorney not to charge or prosecute. You have to trust the Judge to throw out a frivolous law suit.
Because driving carries such enormous risks, it is limited to those people who theoretically have the maturity and education to behave appropriately.*
Too bad we can't license sex.
*Yes. I know. There are a lot of idiots on the road.
I am pro life. I'm anti abortion with all the sad, but necessary, exceptions: rape, incest, when the pregnancy endangers the life of the mother, or when the baby so morbidly deformed it would only know a life of endless physical pain if born. Yeah, it happens. More than you think.
If one makes the decision to have sex, the natural consequence is pregnancy. If one makes the decision to have sex and responsibly uses the best birth control available, pregnancy is still a risk. Compare it to driving a car. I know, there are HUGE differences, but stay with me here. The only way emotional issues are ever intelligently debated/discussed is with logic.
When you turned sixteen, after months of supervised instruction, you probably went to the Department of Motor Vehicles. You took an eye exam, a driving test and completed a written exam. At that point, the State deemed you intelligent and competent to get behind the wheel of a multi-ton vehicle capable of high speeds. Driving is the most dangerous activity most of us ever engage in. Society trusts you to make good decisions in an inherently dangerous situation daily.
So, lets say you are driving home one very dark night on an isolated road. You have both hands on the wheel. You haven't had a single alcoholic beverage. You are not speeding. You are not sleepy. You are not talking on a freaking cell phone. You are not distracted by turning the dial on your radio, picking your nose, scratching your butt, or even sipping a latte. You are the Felix Unger of safe driving.
A pedestrian steps into the path of your car. Some air head jogger, complete with a MP3 player blaring rap music in her ears, wearing all black, who didn't bother to look both ways before crossing the street. You couldn't see her. You couldn't stop in time. You collide right into her.
The jogger, bleeding heavily, likely mortally wounded and in great pain, moans for help. You are scared. You might be charged with vehicular homicide. Involuntary manslaughter. You weren't doing anything wrong, but hell, you know lawyers now days. You could go to prison and the jogger's family could sue you in civil court. You could lose absolutely everything. Again, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You took every precaution. You're a good person.
Do you have to stop and give aid?
Yes. Of course. Such an accident is a daily risk of driving. Despite the best intentions and precautions, such tragedies happen. As a society, we trust you to manage the risk and behave humanely should such a horrific event occur. Society and the State trusted you with a license and a car, you should trust us (society and the State) to sort it all out. You have to trust the police to measure the skid marks correctly. You have to trust the District Attorney not to charge or prosecute. You have to trust the Judge to throw out a frivolous law suit.
Because driving carries such enormous risks, it is limited to those people who theoretically have the maturity and education to behave appropriately.*
Too bad we can't license sex.
*Yes. I know. There are a lot of idiots on the road.
Monday, September 19
IMHO: President Bush (Still) Snorts Cocaine
Bush must still be getting high. Often. It is the only explanation for his plan to completely rebuild the Golf Coast without raising taxes. Not only is he not going to raise taxes, but President Bush wants his temporary tax cuts to become law.
I'm a Republican. One reason I'm Republican is because I think many in Government like to waste money they didn't earn on pork projects no one needs. Therefore, I picked the party that pledged to take less of my money. I like my money. Little pixie fairies didn't give me my money. Mummy and Daddy didn't provide me with a trust fund. I have been poor and it sucked. It sucked eggs. Therefore, I'm very protective of my money.
The thought of local government using my dear, sweet money to finance some doctor's parking garage peeves me to no end. That state and national government see fit to use my beloved money to enable some slob, allergic to labor, to continue to sit on his/her lard ass for another generation or two keeps me up at night.
However, when my fellow Americans are suffering horribly after a catastrophe beyond their control... Yes, by all means, let me get my checkbook. I expect to feel at least a little pinch. I think most reasonable people do. Passing the entire $200 billion dollar burden (plus interest) on to my children and grandchildren by slapping the cost of Katrina recovery on to the national debt is inexcusable.
A small child recently asked me, "Why don't they just make more money so there won't be any more poor people?" I attempted to explain inflation by saying anything too plentiful wasn't likely to be valuable. You know what? The five year old got it. You know what else? Bush doesn't. Which is scary. Really scary. I don't want to think that our Commander in Chief is that stupid.
I choose to believe he is simply snorting tons of coke instead.
I'm a Republican. One reason I'm Republican is because I think many in Government like to waste money they didn't earn on pork projects no one needs. Therefore, I picked the party that pledged to take less of my money. I like my money. Little pixie fairies didn't give me my money. Mummy and Daddy didn't provide me with a trust fund. I have been poor and it sucked. It sucked eggs. Therefore, I'm very protective of my money.
The thought of local government using my dear, sweet money to finance some doctor's parking garage peeves me to no end. That state and national government see fit to use my beloved money to enable some slob, allergic to labor, to continue to sit on his/her lard ass for another generation or two keeps me up at night.
However, when my fellow Americans are suffering horribly after a catastrophe beyond their control... Yes, by all means, let me get my checkbook. I expect to feel at least a little pinch. I think most reasonable people do. Passing the entire $200 billion dollar burden (plus interest) on to my children and grandchildren by slapping the cost of Katrina recovery on to the national debt is inexcusable.
A small child recently asked me, "Why don't they just make more money so there won't be any more poor people?" I attempted to explain inflation by saying anything too plentiful wasn't likely to be valuable. You know what? The five year old got it. You know what else? Bush doesn't. Which is scary. Really scary. I don't want to think that our Commander in Chief is that stupid.
I choose to believe he is simply snorting tons of coke instead.
Saturday, September 17
Edgar relieved Blago deceived
Another day in Illinois, another politician and his cronies caught with their hands in the Teacher's Retirement Fund cookie jar. This time it is our beloved *snicker* Governor, Blago. He says he was completely clueless, he had no idea his underlings -who have already pleaded "guilty"- were doing. Even though I am a Republican*, I actually hope Blago is telling the truth because this crap is getting really old, and really embarrassing.
Illinois is the cesspool for dirty, greedy politicians. Other states have their share of political thieves, but it seems Illinois always has someone on the take. There is always an investigation, indictment, or trial underway in the land of Lincoln. We mostly have Chicago, the land of "Vote early and often!" to thank. However, the whole state pays the price.
In the meantime, if this scandal is handled properly by the ugly right, Jim Edgar can stand down. The Republican Party won't need the reluctant Edgar to run after all. Blago has become instantly beatable. Anyone remember JIM Ryan? JIM Ryan ran against Blago in the last election for Governor. JIM Ryan was Attorney General before Lisa Madigan was gifted the post. He was popular and scandal free. Why did he lose? Name confusion, for one. JIM Ryan was in no way related to GEORGE Ryan, our former scummy Governor with a trial underway, but they had the same last name. So, people assumed the worst.
Blago seized upon voter stupidity and launched a series of scummy t.v. ads trying to link JIM Ryan to the GEORGE Ryan scandal, accusing Attorney General Ryan of refusing to investigate Governor Ryan. In reality, the Governor Ryan was investigated/prosecuted at the Federal level. The State Attorney General office is, of course, out ranked by the feds.
But hey! All is fair in love and war. Look for the same half truths and out and out lies to be splashed across t.v. screens soon.
Paybacks are a bitch.
*(Kiss my fat conservative ass, Vonster. I'm a Republican with a brain.)
Illinois is the cesspool for dirty, greedy politicians. Other states have their share of political thieves, but it seems Illinois always has someone on the take. There is always an investigation, indictment, or trial underway in the land of Lincoln. We mostly have Chicago, the land of "Vote early and often!" to thank. However, the whole state pays the price.
In the meantime, if this scandal is handled properly by the ugly right, Jim Edgar can stand down. The Republican Party won't need the reluctant Edgar to run after all. Blago has become instantly beatable. Anyone remember JIM Ryan? JIM Ryan ran against Blago in the last election for Governor. JIM Ryan was Attorney General before Lisa Madigan was gifted the post. He was popular and scandal free. Why did he lose? Name confusion, for one. JIM Ryan was in no way related to GEORGE Ryan, our former scummy Governor with a trial underway, but they had the same last name. So, people assumed the worst.
Blago seized upon voter stupidity and launched a series of scummy t.v. ads trying to link JIM Ryan to the GEORGE Ryan scandal, accusing Attorney General Ryan of refusing to investigate Governor Ryan. In reality, the Governor Ryan was investigated/prosecuted at the Federal level. The State Attorney General office is, of course, out ranked by the feds.
But hey! All is fair in love and war. Look for the same half truths and out and out lies to be splashed across t.v. screens soon.
Paybacks are a bitch.
*(Kiss my fat conservative ass, Vonster. I'm a Republican with a brain.)
Friday, September 16
Communists, Katrina, Capitalism, and Doggie EKGs. The week in review.
Oh, Dear. What a week for Peoria. No refugees from New Orleans but (much to Bill Dennis' dismay) Commies from China instead. Now, kids, can't we all get along? Nah. It would be a lot more fun to swarm Mayor Ardis' press conference tomorrow with the representatives from Peoria's beloved communist sister city with "FREE TIBET" signs. Afterwards, we can all go down to the riverfront for Octoberfest and really teach those wannabe Germans a thing or two. Or... we could just drink beer.
I contacted a realtor and started looking at houses in Dunlap. The best arguments against such a move were that both my life and my blog would be boring if I made such a move. Pretty damn weak. I wouldn't have to give up my "PollyPeoria" tag because I would still be in the City of Peoria, just exploiting the Dunlap school system. Talk to Fifth District City Council Member Patrick Nichting if you have questions.
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, I like a guy who can apologize. President Bush's apology/self flogging last night just didn't cut it. An apology and a huge check drawn on a federal bank was the only thing that could possibly save Bush's skin, and he knew as much, so it just doesn't count. It's kind of like when a serial killer shows remorse in order to avoid the death penalty.
Lately, I've been trying to watch as much BBC World News as possible. I'm interested to see how other countries are viewing the United States in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Wouldn't you know it? Katrina is all capitalism's fault! Yes, you see, we Americans have downsized government too much in order to fund tax cuts. We thought the free market would protect us from natural disasters. Silly me. The lesson I walked away with was that government could be both big and ineffective.
My dog, Frenchy, is now classified as geriatric. I took him to the vet for his yearly checkup and shots. The Doc heard a heart murmur and ordered Frenchy a doggie EKG and blood tests to see how his major organs were holding up. Apparently, Frenchy could require doggie doses of Lipitor or something. Needless to say, I do not have canine prescription coverage. When I asked the vet if all the tests and interventions were really necessary, as French is eleven years old and his life expectancy is twelve or thirteen, he looked at me like I was Satan. I love Frenchy. I do. However, FRENCHY IS A DOG. Frenchy licks his butt, and therefore clearly does not fear death. When the time comes and Frenchy suffers arthritis and/or chest pain, I don't think Frenchy would freely choose doggie Celebrex/Lipitor over a peaceful ending. Everyone knows all dogs go to heaven. They made a movie about it.
Doggie EKGs. Jeeze. People are starving in Niger at this moment. They are dying horrible, painful deaths. Many of them are children. It never ceases to amaze me that the wealthiest nation on earth can also be the stupidest.
I contacted a realtor and started looking at houses in Dunlap. The best arguments against such a move were that both my life and my blog would be boring if I made such a move. Pretty damn weak. I wouldn't have to give up my "PollyPeoria" tag because I would still be in the City of Peoria, just exploiting the Dunlap school system. Talk to Fifth District City Council Member Patrick Nichting if you have questions.
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, I like a guy who can apologize. President Bush's apology/self flogging last night just didn't cut it. An apology and a huge check drawn on a federal bank was the only thing that could possibly save Bush's skin, and he knew as much, so it just doesn't count. It's kind of like when a serial killer shows remorse in order to avoid the death penalty.
Lately, I've been trying to watch as much BBC World News as possible. I'm interested to see how other countries are viewing the United States in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Wouldn't you know it? Katrina is all capitalism's fault! Yes, you see, we Americans have downsized government too much in order to fund tax cuts. We thought the free market would protect us from natural disasters. Silly me. The lesson I walked away with was that government could be both big and ineffective.
My dog, Frenchy, is now classified as geriatric. I took him to the vet for his yearly checkup and shots. The Doc heard a heart murmur and ordered Frenchy a doggie EKG and blood tests to see how his major organs were holding up. Apparently, Frenchy could require doggie doses of Lipitor or something. Needless to say, I do not have canine prescription coverage. When I asked the vet if all the tests and interventions were really necessary, as French is eleven years old and his life expectancy is twelve or thirteen, he looked at me like I was Satan. I love Frenchy. I do. However, FRENCHY IS A DOG. Frenchy licks his butt, and therefore clearly does not fear death. When the time comes and Frenchy suffers arthritis and/or chest pain, I don't think Frenchy would freely choose doggie Celebrex/Lipitor over a peaceful ending. Everyone knows all dogs go to heaven. They made a movie about it.
Doggie EKGs. Jeeze. People are starving in Niger at this moment. They are dying horrible, painful deaths. Many of them are children. It never ceases to amaze me that the wealthiest nation on earth can also be the stupidest.
Sunday, September 11
Welcome home, Mrs. Stepford.
To be honest, I've always felt smug driving through the newer subdivisions of north Peoria. My personal definition of tacky Americana has been those huge McMansions crowded against one another. After all, what is the point of a owning mini estate if you can smell your next door neighbor frying bacon? What is the point of an 8,000 square foot home with doors you can easily/accidentally put a foot through? Crown moulding is nice, but crown moulding composed of glue and saw dust? Puhleeze. What is with all the houses built with three sides of expensive brick and vinyl siding on the back? Do suburbanites think they are fooling anyone? I've always reserved an arrogant chuckle for lawns so big as to require a riding lawn mower, complete with tiny trees more accurately described as sprouts. More taste than money, I guess.
I spent this afternoon at a barbecue of a co-worker who lives in Dunlap. You know what? Dunlap is looking pretty damn good. Her house had all the cheapo elements previously mentioned, but I was too busy enjoying the surround sound system - echoing throughout the ENTIRE house - to notice. Her kitchen is something that would bring Julia Child back from the dead, complete with slate countertops and commercial grade appliances. You could put a king size bed in most of the closets. And the bathrooms... My God in heaven! Truly an ode to American plumbing. I could live in her master bathroom. Jacquzzi. Bidet. Chandelier. A shower with two heads. The surround sound was in the John too, along with a flat screen TV. Okay, and now the best part...
The neighborhood. These folks were nice, never snotty, and laid back. Kids were everywhere. Kids ran in and out of each other's homes, they rode bikes in the middle of the street, they chased each other up and down pristine sidewalks. This is the childhood I had. Apparently I just need to spend half a million bucks to provide it for my offspring. Everyone's kids, including the Catholics, attend public school. Mothers I talked to said Dunlap's Ridgeview Elementary doesn't have more than 20 students per class.
Can I tell you? Not ONE car drove over the speed limit. I didn't hear one freakin' boom box or feel a single car radio vibrate the house while driving by. No litter anywhere. Not even a cigarette butt! I didn't know how much fear I had incorporated into my being until this afternoon, when it dawned on me, I was more relaxed than I had been since... God, who knows? For the first time in a long time, I felt completely safe. And, yes, there were at least a couple of black folks living on the street. It doesn't matter what race you are. I have come to the conclusion that if you have a mortgage costing you at least $3,000 a month, it is all but guaranteed your neighbors will have their shit together. Lawns get mowed. Trash gets hauled to the curb. Snow gets shoveled. Peeling paint, repaired. Kids decently behaved. Well, there were a few brats and sullen teens, but their parents were present and accounted for, and they knew it.
I'm not sure why I live where I do anymore. What am I trying to prove? What are the chances my neighborhood will ever improve? Statistically, it is more likely to fall further into decline. Where are all the thugs going to go? Jail? Seattle? Siberia? The kids roaming the streets are unsupervised and probably unloved, and my staying isn't going to change it. My tax money hasn't succeeded in doing squat to improve the public schools. It's depressing as hell and life is short.
They may be in debt up to their receding foreheads in Dunlap, but they are also having a great time.
So, take my all brick house, my hardwood floors, my charming moulding and baseboards, my heavy six panel doors, my towering ancient oak trees... all yours... for the right price.
When I told my girlfriend I was considering a move to her neck of the woods, she smirked rather smugly, handed me an unnaturally cold Amstel Light, and said, "Pol, everyone was wondering what was taking you so long."
I spent this afternoon at a barbecue of a co-worker who lives in Dunlap. You know what? Dunlap is looking pretty damn good. Her house had all the cheapo elements previously mentioned, but I was too busy enjoying the surround sound system - echoing throughout the ENTIRE house - to notice. Her kitchen is something that would bring Julia Child back from the dead, complete with slate countertops and commercial grade appliances. You could put a king size bed in most of the closets. And the bathrooms... My God in heaven! Truly an ode to American plumbing. I could live in her master bathroom. Jacquzzi. Bidet. Chandelier. A shower with two heads. The surround sound was in the John too, along with a flat screen TV. Okay, and now the best part...
The neighborhood. These folks were nice, never snotty, and laid back. Kids were everywhere. Kids ran in and out of each other's homes, they rode bikes in the middle of the street, they chased each other up and down pristine sidewalks. This is the childhood I had. Apparently I just need to spend half a million bucks to provide it for my offspring. Everyone's kids, including the Catholics, attend public school. Mothers I talked to said Dunlap's Ridgeview Elementary doesn't have more than 20 students per class.
Can I tell you? Not ONE car drove over the speed limit. I didn't hear one freakin' boom box or feel a single car radio vibrate the house while driving by. No litter anywhere. Not even a cigarette butt! I didn't know how much fear I had incorporated into my being until this afternoon, when it dawned on me, I was more relaxed than I had been since... God, who knows? For the first time in a long time, I felt completely safe. And, yes, there were at least a couple of black folks living on the street. It doesn't matter what race you are. I have come to the conclusion that if you have a mortgage costing you at least $3,000 a month, it is all but guaranteed your neighbors will have their shit together. Lawns get mowed. Trash gets hauled to the curb. Snow gets shoveled. Peeling paint, repaired. Kids decently behaved. Well, there were a few brats and sullen teens, but their parents were present and accounted for, and they knew it.
I'm not sure why I live where I do anymore. What am I trying to prove? What are the chances my neighborhood will ever improve? Statistically, it is more likely to fall further into decline. Where are all the thugs going to go? Jail? Seattle? Siberia? The kids roaming the streets are unsupervised and probably unloved, and my staying isn't going to change it. My tax money hasn't succeeded in doing squat to improve the public schools. It's depressing as hell and life is short.
They may be in debt up to their receding foreheads in Dunlap, but they are also having a great time.
So, take my all brick house, my hardwood floors, my charming moulding and baseboards, my heavy six panel doors, my towering ancient oak trees... all yours... for the right price.
When I told my girlfriend I was considering a move to her neck of the woods, she smirked rather smugly, handed me an unnaturally cold Amstel Light, and said, "Pol, everyone was wondering what was taking you so long."
Katrina: Millionaire. Billionaire. Zillionaire...
One of today's headlines reads, "Katrina May Cost Over $300 Billion." Wow. Who is doing the math on that one? I'm not saying they are wrong, I'm just wondering where they got their numbers.
Congress put their stamp of approval on a $50 billion aid package for Katrina's victims. I don't fault their generosity. I just want someone to explain how government can tap the Magic Money Fairy over night to aid those suffering the effects of a natural disaster but constantly claim poverty when it comes to public education, health care, anti-terrorism measures and social security?
How much of that $50 billion will ever appear? Of the dollars that do make their way out of D.C., how many of them will fund low interest loans to those businesses and individuals actually hurt or even slightly impacted by Katrina?
It was revealed this past week that Peoria's own Smoothie King was the recipient of $70,000 low interest 9/11 loan. Sucking down a tutti frutti smoothie must somehow soothe Peoria's collective 9/11 grief.
Nope. I'm not a liberal. I just believe it is wise to question government's priorities. Lately, I've been wondering if they have any.
Congress put their stamp of approval on a $50 billion aid package for Katrina's victims. I don't fault their generosity. I just want someone to explain how government can tap the Magic Money Fairy over night to aid those suffering the effects of a natural disaster but constantly claim poverty when it comes to public education, health care, anti-terrorism measures and social security?
How much of that $50 billion will ever appear? Of the dollars that do make their way out of D.C., how many of them will fund low interest loans to those businesses and individuals actually hurt or even slightly impacted by Katrina?
It was revealed this past week that Peoria's own Smoothie King was the recipient of $70,000 low interest 9/11 loan. Sucking down a tutti frutti smoothie must somehow soothe Peoria's collective 9/11 grief.
Nope. I'm not a liberal. I just believe it is wise to question government's priorities. Lately, I've been wondering if they have any.
9/11. Where were you?
When recalling national tragedies the question used to be, "Where were you when President Kennedy was shot?" More often than not the answer today is a youthful smirk followed by, "I was just a twinkle in my parent's eyes."
New generation. New scar. There has been some healing, but the scar from 9/11 is tender, easily inflamed and ugly. Wars have been declared. Countries have been invaded. Laws re-written. 9/11 casualties continue to swell. 1,900 American military dead. Countless Iraqis dead.
At what point can our government declare the War on Terrorism won? What are the chances we will ever be able to find and stop every single enemy before they attempt to harm us? How many little Iraqi boys are growing up hating America? How many Iraqi men grew up on a steady diet of U.S. hate following the first Gulf War?
That's one of the lessons learned from 9/11, isn't it? By saving Kuwait, we created an entirely new and unexpected enemy.
There is a difference between supporting the troops and supporting the cause. I haven't heard of any soldiers returning home only to be spit on by a fellow citizen. Lesson learned from Vietnam. I have profound respect and gratitude for those who sign up to protect, fight, and put themselves in harms way for this nation. I am also keenly aware those who are sent to fight our wars have no say in creating them.
Operation Iraqi Freedom doesn't seem to be freeing anyone. We may have successfully removed a cruel dictator from power, but we haven't done anything about the environment that created his power. We can't. Kurds. Sunnis. Muslims. What made anyone think that Americans had the power to heal ancient wounds that we can't possibly understand? Is a Civil War preferable to a vicious leader? Many civil wars conclude with the crowning of a vicious leader.
How are we ever going to get out of Iraq? When Iraqi forces can police themselves? Where have we heard THAT before? Answer for the twinkling eye crowd: Vietnam. Over the last two weeks, the hard lesson learned in this country was that we have a hard time policing ourselves. Another lesson taught by that bitch, Katrina, is that the United States is (or at least includes) the third world. Our country harbors those who are too poor and destitute to get out of harms way, and our government is either too inept or uncaring to do much for them.
But we care about those poor souls in Iraq. We do.
I remember where I was on 9/11. I can tell you what I had for breakfast. The street I was driving on when I heard the news on the radio. Where I stood in my kitchen for days, watching non stop news coverage. There will always be a part of me that remains in shock. Hi-jacking a plane, that, I knew was possible. Perhaps inevitable. Plowing planes into buildings? I still can't wrap my brain around the sadistic logic. Yet, the very best of American bravery and kindness was abundant on September 11th and the days and months that followed. We should be proud of the wounds we suffered and survived. We should allow them to heal. We could start by taking better care of our own citizens on a daily basis.
9/11 should leave a scar, not a chip, on America's shoulder.
New generation. New scar. There has been some healing, but the scar from 9/11 is tender, easily inflamed and ugly. Wars have been declared. Countries have been invaded. Laws re-written. 9/11 casualties continue to swell. 1,900 American military dead. Countless Iraqis dead.
At what point can our government declare the War on Terrorism won? What are the chances we will ever be able to find and stop every single enemy before they attempt to harm us? How many little Iraqi boys are growing up hating America? How many Iraqi men grew up on a steady diet of U.S. hate following the first Gulf War?
That's one of the lessons learned from 9/11, isn't it? By saving Kuwait, we created an entirely new and unexpected enemy.
There is a difference between supporting the troops and supporting the cause. I haven't heard of any soldiers returning home only to be spit on by a fellow citizen. Lesson learned from Vietnam. I have profound respect and gratitude for those who sign up to protect, fight, and put themselves in harms way for this nation. I am also keenly aware those who are sent to fight our wars have no say in creating them.
Operation Iraqi Freedom doesn't seem to be freeing anyone. We may have successfully removed a cruel dictator from power, but we haven't done anything about the environment that created his power. We can't. Kurds. Sunnis. Muslims. What made anyone think that Americans had the power to heal ancient wounds that we can't possibly understand? Is a Civil War preferable to a vicious leader? Many civil wars conclude with the crowning of a vicious leader.
How are we ever going to get out of Iraq? When Iraqi forces can police themselves? Where have we heard THAT before? Answer for the twinkling eye crowd: Vietnam. Over the last two weeks, the hard lesson learned in this country was that we have a hard time policing ourselves. Another lesson taught by that bitch, Katrina, is that the United States is (or at least includes) the third world. Our country harbors those who are too poor and destitute to get out of harms way, and our government is either too inept or uncaring to do much for them.
But we care about those poor souls in Iraq. We do.
I remember where I was on 9/11. I can tell you what I had for breakfast. The street I was driving on when I heard the news on the radio. Where I stood in my kitchen for days, watching non stop news coverage. There will always be a part of me that remains in shock. Hi-jacking a plane, that, I knew was possible. Perhaps inevitable. Plowing planes into buildings? I still can't wrap my brain around the sadistic logic. Yet, the very best of American bravery and kindness was abundant on September 11th and the days and months that followed. We should be proud of the wounds we suffered and survived. We should allow them to heal. We could start by taking better care of our own citizens on a daily basis.
9/11 should leave a scar, not a chip, on America's shoulder.
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