Greetings From Yorba Linda

As punishment for my takeover of the Aerie (see Coup Archives) I have been named Foreign Correspondent and stationed in Yorba Linda, California.  My first major assignment is to do a sentimental retrospective on the life of Richard Milhous Nixon, 37th President of the United States of America.  There are worse punishments I am sure but water-boarding has received such bad press lately that I think it was ruled out early on.

Now before I bury the lead on my first story . . .

Greetings

from

Yorba Linda!

Yorba Linda, California is 25 miles southeast of Los Angeles and 95 miles north of San Deigo.  The name comes from Spanish and translates as “Yorba” (moldy lettuce) and “Linda” (daughter of Ronstadt).  There my be a disparity in the idiom but that is close.

According to the U.S. census of 2000 the population of Yorba Linda was 58,918, 81% of which is white.  The African-American contingent in Yorba Linda–hold on to your hats–is a whopping 1.2% for a grand total of 688 blacks.  Ever wonder what being surrounded feels like?

And don’t you just KNOW that a large part of that 1.2% has got to be African-American only by genetics?  How do you keep from being marginalized as a culture?  Simple–abandon your culture in favor of the majority.

See Anaheim? It's a blond pubic hair south east of there.

Next highest in population is the Asian community with 11.1% followed closely by Hispanic with 10.3%.

Now the numbers don’t add up perfectly to a guy like me.  It seems that when you add all the percentages together you come up with more than 100% especially when you throw in all the little percentages for Native Americans and Pacific Islanders and Eskimos and Alabama immigrants and such, but then again I am not a demographer and I am sure that they have some way to make it all come out right.

Let’s not fool ourselves, ok?

Yorba Linda is in the metropolitan region of Los Angeles.  It’s not Topeka, Kansas folks.  91% commute to work.  A FULL 50% are in management or professional occupations.  FIFTY PERCENT in management or professional occupations and more than 9 out of ten of them work someplace else besides Yorba Linda!

Are we starting to get a picture of Yorba Linda yet?

Let’s talk about income.

66.1% of families made between $75,000 and $200,000 plus

26% of families made between $100,000 and $ 149,000.

These people ain’t poor.

BUT WAIT!!  NO POOR PEOPLE!?  Let’s look at the 2000 census reports again!  Well, as it turns out there are a FEW poor folks, but not many.  Not so as you could tell anyway.  It makes me wonder what they do for landscaping and household domestics.  And you KNOW that with that many rich people they are going to have a desperate need for housekeepers and gardeners.  My guess is that they come in from nearby cities and communities in the Greater Los Angeles Metropolitan Area.  You betcha!  Anaheim might have some poor folk who are willing to clean the poop of rich people.  I ain’t gonna check Anaheim’s demographics right now, but I’d say that would be a good bet.

Yorba Linda is also the site of the Richard Nixon Presidential Library.  It is where he grew up and where he is reportedly buried.

Richard Nixon grew up here.  Now I am not going to go into a big deal on Tricky Dick right now.  That is my primary assignment for being here and will get a report all of it’s own.  But as it relates to this post on Yorba Linda, it needs to be mentioned that his Presidential Library is  in Yorba Linda, and he is REPORTEDLY buried here as well.

I am not so sure that he is buried here.  This may be just my own personal paranoia, but I’m not even sure the sucker is even DEAD!  They never showed a photograph of him lying in the box.  The closest thing they showed was a closed box.  Maybe he was in it and maybe he wasn’t!

Anyway, I am assuming that the library, homeplace, and grave are great tourist draws for a place that doesn’t really need (or probably want) tourists.  Who wants a bunch of unbathed tourists with their loud clothing, funny hats and digital cameras visually polluting the wonderful fountains and golf courses of such a marvelously maintained center for the Peu Riches, Limousine Liberals and Neo Conservatives?!  How Gauche!

Finally, as a concluding note on this piece on Yorba Linda California, I would like to say,

Get Me Out Of Yorba Linda!

good night and good luck.

Cornelius Eugene Spots, Ph.D.

The Red Carpet

Secretary of State Clinton and Pakistani Prime Minister Yusuf Raza

Wasn’t it lovely for Peshawar to roll out the Red Carpet for U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton when she arrived in Islamabad, Pakistan?  Too bad that the red dye used for the carpet was from the blood of more than 101 Pakistanis killed in a bombing perhaps coincidentally timed to her arrival.  Perhaps not . . .

According to the New York Times,

The bomb tore through a congested area of narrow alleys and crowded stalls in Peshawar’s old city, killing as many as 101 people, most of them women, and wounding about 160.

I’m sure it had the speech writers scurrying around.

But then again maybe not.  By this time I am sure that there are MANY stock responses to atrocities of this sort.  Ya think?  How sad . . .

See the story here:

Deadly Blast in Pakistan Casts Shadow Over Clinton’s Visit

All we are saaaaaaaying

Is give War a Chance.………

(Well, New York Times?)

doc

Abdullah Abdullah

Abdullah Abdullah M.D.

The Afghanistan Presidential Contender so nice they named him TWICE!

Dr. Abdullah Abdullah

I Can’t Think Of A Damn Title!

This is more of what I started earlier this week, but couldn’t finish because of connection problems.  We had a coup here and that put things back and then Natasha insisted on me posting Lollipop, which I think was enormously silly but Natty has been such a great help subduing and then re-educating Gryph, that I felt like I owed it to her.  I’ll give you an update soon on the progress of reorganizing the Aerie and the re-education of Gryphon.  In the meantime if you want to get up to speed on the coup you may go to Coup Archives for a list of post links.

Once again and as always and with nary a “Howdedo” my source is the redoubtable and stingy-with-their-subscriptions New York Times. *tapping foot*

And Now For The News!

National and International Briefs

Challenge For Obama: Holding Iran To Its Word

Gryph's Bath Toy. His name is "Mahmoud."

“No one is certain Tehran will do what Western officials say it agreed to do.”  Did anyone believe differently?  This is supposed to be news?  This comes under the category of Ridiculously Obvious.  Iran is going to have nukes.  That is NOT a prediction.  It is a fact.  There may be an outbreak of a helluva of a war with them just before or just after the fact, but all the stern warnings of ineffectual “sanctions” is just so much hot air.

If we could find some way to harness all the hot air that is released in the political arena there would never be another question of trying to find renewable energy sources.  On the other hand, it may very well be that we can look to parliaments, congresses, diets and press conferences for the true source of greenhouse gas emissions.  Certainly smells like Methane to me.   Cow Flatulence my ass!  That gas is passing over feces of the Bull in the bovine family.

Moving on . . .

U.S. Commander In Afghanistan Requests 40,000 Troops

U.S. General Stanley McChrystal

And Obama is balking.

General Stanley McChrystal is miffed that he is getting put off.  He is put off that he is put off.  There is a lot of talk about what should be done instead but when it comes right down to it if the U.S. Commander had a name like “Sir Jock Stirrup” there would never be any debate at all.  The president would fall all over himself to give the General what he wants.

What kind of name for our chief in-theater commander is “Stanley McChrystal,” anyway?  I’ll tell you what kind.  It’s a sissy name.  That’s right.  I said “sissy.”  I am living now in the second half of my first century and I get to use words and have attitudes that may not be exactly Politically Correct.  Now don’t get me wrong folks—I am not saying that the good general actually IS a sissy.  It’s solely a matter of perception.  Whether or not he actually is a sissy is a personal matter and his sexual orientation is none of our business, but with a name like “Stanley McChrystal” growing up he sure had his work cut

British Air Chief Sir Jock Stirrup

out for him.  Even the spelling of “Chrystal” screams weak elastic underwear tops.

Now with a name like SIR Jock Stirrup . . . just the sound of it makes you want to march twenty miles with a 40 pound pack and jump out of planes and kill indigenous personnel and wear smelly socks and OTHER “jock” like activities.

That’s all you get for now.  I’ve got a lot more, but I’m tired and Natasha has fallen asleep on my bed and I have to roust her out to her cot on the back porch before I can lie down.

By the way “Obama is balking” is great writing.  It’s sublimely alliterative and superior diction.  Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.

Good Luck.

c.e.s.

News and Other Male Bovine Feces – Part Eins

Me and Natasha

Yeah.  Stop your whining.  You knew what you were getting into when you walked out the door.  You blew a hole in the bottom of your rowboat with a shotgun 35 years ago and now you’re crying because you have to bail water.  Poor baby . . ..

The coffee yesterday was nice and you got me the Times and the Post and that was nice too.  So thanks for that.

Now, back to you guys . . .

Gryph, Natasha,, and I have been having EXTREME difficulty getting good internet connection today.  You would THINK that if people are going to be so gracious as to allow us to steal their wifi signal that the LEAST they could do would be to boost it up more or point it in our direction or something!  It has taken me one hour now just to get this far along.  Hopefully, the

FiFi. Not mine, but adequately representative.

connection will hold for a little while now.

(the automatic spell checker tells me that “wifi” isn’t a word and recommends that I replace it with “FiFi.”  “FiFi” was a French “hostess” that I met one time many years ago at Caesar’s in Atlantic City.  It’s not appropriate here . . . but maybe some other time I’ll talk about it . . . where was I?  She was sparkly, very sparkly . . ..)

So, Letterman was schtupping Stephanie eh?  She would have been my choice too were I in his white socks and loafers.  She is hot in a mousey way.  I always wondered if she was a squealer or a moaner . . . Huh?  oh…….  ok…….

And Now For The News!

I have a good one that I will try to save for the end but I can’t make any promises.  It is just soooooo good that it is hard to hold in.  I’ll try . . .

Let’s start with my notes as soon as I can find them.

Everything was provided for me by the good people at the New York Times who have YET to give me a free subscription regardless of HOW many times I give them free plugs.

INTERNATIONAL

Guinea

Capitan Moussa Camara

There was a coup in Guinea.  It was back in December ‘08 and believe it or not I did a post on it Christmas Day.  My post was called Coup in Guinea.  Original, eh?

Anyway the country was back in the news yesterday.  It seems that the new ruler, Captain Moussa Dadis Camara, is not such a very nice guy, which comes as a large surprise him being a military dictator and all.  It seems that when he promised free elections back in December within two years that he MIGHT not have been completely sincere.

They had a rally last week for some reason or other and the Times claims that Camara’s soldiers turned it into a bloodbath.

Moussa was going to go the rally.  Really he was!  He said he was going and you know that a despot is ALWAYS good for his word.  But he didn’t make it for reasons beyond his control.  He really wanted to go but when the time came to leave he couldn’t find the keys to his pickup truck.

I shit you not.  That was his excuse.  He really and truly told reporters that.  He couldn’t find the keys to his truck.  He said that.  That was the reason he didn’t show up for a rally that his troops turned into a bloodbath.  He misplaced his keys.  MAN!  I HATE when that happens!

They have this little electronic device now that will help you locate your keys by clapping your hands.  Maybe they don’t have that technology yet in Guinea.

Well, anyway, it may not be very original but is just as believable as any other lie he could have told.  And, who knows, maybe he really did lose his keys.  Is he married?  Could his wife have been of assistance here?  Seems vaguely important that the leader of a country be able to find his keys in time to get to a rally where folks are going to be shot and stabbed and women raped with assault rifles.  Spectacles like that just CRY out for leadership to show the proper way of doing things.

He told this to a group of reporters in a long extemporaneous news conference and then at the end of it he offered to send the reporters out on the town to nightclubs.  “On my tab,” he said.  “As Chief of State.”

We interrupt this news broadcast for generalized whining . . .

Look it is taking me a real long time to write this.  I keep losing connection for 15 to 30 minutes at a time.  So this is what WE are going to do.  We are going to call this Part I.  Part II will be up directly–just not tonight.

to be continued . . .

c.e.s.

ENOUGH!

Why must ice cream trucks incessantly play Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” up and down my street?

After 2 hours of the same tinny notes, I become quite annoyed.

I become the opposite of ice cream enchanted.

Thanks for letting me share.

G.

Give War A Chance

Why not?  John Lennon said “Give Peace A Chance,” but it seems as a species that we are congenitally incapable of that.  On the other side of the equation, every time in the past that we tried war it has resulted in horrific death and destruction with nothing good to show for it.

Oh, sure, the U.S. whipped Great Britain in our Revolutionary War and we got to have Taxation WITH Representation (as opposed to representation withOUT taxation), but how is that working for youse guys right now?  Happy with the way the Big Boys and Girls are running things for you up in D.C. (or in your individual State Houses for that matter?).  You are?  Poor slob . . .

And, Hey, The Allies whipped the Axis during WWII too.  That put an end to Hitler and whoever the hell the bad guy was in Japan (It was Mussolini in Italy but he doesn’t count being a pussy and all).  So how did THAT little enterprise suit ya?  We introduced a whole new kind of weapon when Hiroshima and Nagasaki went up in radioactive smoke. And now it’s ALL THE RAGE!  Everyone’s got to have one or two or three, even that Jiffy Pop Hairdo Nut-Case in North Korea.  Now THERE’S someone we want with a sweaty finger on a button, eh?  The shakedown from that war gave us an enslaved Eastern Europe (Yalta, my ass), something called a “Cold War” that didn’t come to an end until 35 years later, and a showdown off the Florida Keys that almost screwed the pooch.

Let’s not discuss Vietnam shall we?  I want to get to sleep tonight.

HEY!

Here’s my point . . . .

Instead of being always at war and crying for peace, why not just give up completely on the idea of ever having anything resembling peace.  Don’t stop having war.  It’s the only thing of the two at which we seem to be any good.  We can be sooooo much better if we quit holding ourselves back.  Let’s let ‘er rip!

The first thing we need to do is close down the U.N. building in New York.  It would make excellent housing for the city’s homeless population.

Next we all choose up sides.  It will be US against THEM.  Two teams with the captains being the guys with the most nuclear weapons and tactical and strategic resources.  All the little guys can choose whose side they want to be on.  That’s only fair seeing as how it’s their land and people that are going to be completely obliterated.  Oh, the Big Boys are going to be in a World of Hurt as well when the long range nukes start flying.  But for land operations we can always count on the little guys to provide us a field for our fun and games.

There will be no more of this cease fire and truce and treaty B.S. either.  It’ going to be a fight until only one guy is left standing.

So it’s going to be fire and brimstone and radiation and lands made desolate for millenia and people living in bunkers and genetic deformities and generally the kind of horror that we have only previewed so far.  We can’t have peace, folks.  It’s been proven.  But we can have war neverending which has also been proven.  So, let’s do it up right and stop fooling around.  Let’s PROVE what we already know.  War is the ony thing we can be truly good at if we just stop farting around and really do it up.

Hey, you do know I hope that when the dust has settled that China is going to be the Last Man Standing. You know that, right?

c.e.s.

If you want me to like it . . .

. . . then don’t tell me it’s good for me.

And for God’s sake don’t use the words “soy” and/or “protein” together or separately in describing it.

It was hot on Friday and I was riding the bus and having to walk long distances when I disembarked.  I was lugging a 15” laptop and a large totebag with assorted junk.  I decided to take a break at a Starbucks that had free WiFi and was in desperate need of liquid refreshment.  I thought I was going to have a coffee because after all . . .. Anyway, I asked for something cold and was all prepared to refuse “Ice Coffee” which is a sin against nature in my opinion.

Well, I got the immediate opportunity to refuse and gave my reason why.  And then said, “what else ya got?”  Before the Star Buckette could reply, I saw “smoothie” on the menu on the wall.  There was strawberry and banana and banana chocolate and banana orange mango and something else I don’t remember.  So I asked for a banana smoothie.

She said, “Oh you want one of our ‘protein’ smoothies?”  I cringed.

I said, “No.  I want a ‘banana smoothie’ and it has to be cold.”

She said something else about the drink that I didn’t quite catch, but I am positive that she used the word “soy.”  I was too hot and too tired to rise to my usual level of cantankerousness and I definitely wanted something cold and refreshing, so I didn’t chide her on the use of the words “soy”  and “protein.”  Instead, I asked her if I could sample some before I ordered a whole one only to discover that it tasted like whipped beans.  I didn’t actually say the part about the “whipped beans,” but I was thinking it.  She said that they couldn’t do just a little bit but if I didn’t like it after I bought and tried it, then she would give me a refund.

Fair enough.

While she whipped this thing up, I went over to a table and started setting up my computer.  She brought it over to me.  Very nice.  I thanked her and told her that she didn’t have to do that as I would have gladly retrieved it myself.  She said, “it was no problem” and walked away.

I was hot and dry and it was cold and wet and it was about half gone before I got a good taste of it.  It tasted like mango banana orange (which I had already told her that I didn’t want—just banana—but she said that it was the only way to get the banana if I didn’t want the chocolate banana.)  I got the banana taste.  I got the orange taste.  I am not quite sure what mango tastes like by itself or in combination with other things but I am sure it was there too.  I also got the taste of something else that was not any of the three title ingredients.

It was soy.  I know what soy tastes like and I don’t like it.  I don’t think protein has a taste of its own but just rides along in whatever the ingredient in question is.  Whenever I eat a nice rare steak I know that I am getting protein but it is the steak I taste.  And I understand that there are different types of protein so please give me a break on this, ok?

I was tasting whipped, cold beans.  It ruined the experience.  I had already drank half the concoction so it was too late to complain that I didn’t like it, so I drank the rest.  The banana taste which is all I wanted in the first place was now gone and all I could taste was citrus and beans—not my favorite combination.  I finished it quickly, which is always the best way to finish anything unappetizing, played around on the computer for a while longer and left.

Would it have tasted better if I hadn’t been told about the soy?  I still would have tasted the soy so the answer is “no,” but I wouldn’t have anticipated it and anticipation a large part of any experience.  I expected there was a good chance that I wouldn’t like it and after I inhaled the first half my expectation was sadly satisfied.  I won’t order another in the future so minimally I have the positive of learning from a bad experience.  My need for cold and wet was completed so my money wasn’t completely wasted, but it wasn’t worth seven bucks.

Now let me tell you of a related but GOOD experience I had with banana smoothies!

It was last summer and I had just started doing service for Abundant Life Ministries.  I was doing work outside and it was heavy and sweaty work.  By the end of the day my tanned and chiseled pecs were glistening with salty sweat that trickled down over my rock hard abs . . . er . . . sorry, I got carried away for a moment . . ..

Anyway I was riding the bus to and from work and one of my transfer stops was two doors down from a place called Smoothie King.  One day I walked inside and looked at the large menu on the wall.  There was a LOT of stuff on the menu most of which advertised that it was in some way good for me.  As before, I was not looking for something that would be healthy for me, I was looking for cold, wet, and TASTY.  At the bottom of the menu I saw the word “milkshake.”  That was all I needed to see and I stepped up to the counter.

I told the young woman behind the counter that I wanted a banana milkshake and she immediately told me of all the healthy ingredients that could be added to it for my physical edification.  She didn’t use the word “edification” but it was implicit.  Somewhere in the description the word “protein” came up along with several other words describing ingredients that I neither understood, remember, or could even pronounce without effort.  I think “beta something-or-other” was in there somewhere but am not quite sure.  Effort, by the way, is something that should never be expended when completing an experience with a banana milkshake.

THIS time I was less willing to be free with my taste buds than I would at a later date and I told her explicitly that I wanted nothing that was good for me.  I told her that I wanted a cold, sweet, milkshake that was heavy with the goodness of BANANA!  I told her to put NOTHING in it that was necessarily healthy for me.

My wishes were fulfilled.  If there was anything in it that was good for me other than the satisfaction I got from a wonderful, nearly sinful, banana milkshake then I was blissfully unaware of it and from start to finish of this treat I was completely enraptured.

It was wonderful.

Several times after that I stopped by Smoothie King on my way home from work and ordered a large banana milkshake.  Each time I made sure to let the little whippersnappers behind the counter know that I wanted nothing added to it that would help me live to 150.  I just wanted a good wholesome, cold, wet, All American, BANANA MILKSHAKE!!  And, By God, I got what I wanted every time!

Smoothie King makes the best banana milkshakes I ever tasted in my life.  They are thick, cold, wet and taste more like bananas than bananas.  For good measure I am going to say the word “banana” one more time in this paragraph.  BANANA!  I savored every one like it was ambrosia and was always sad when I took the last slurp.  BANANA!!  (I couldn’t resist)

Anyone from Smoothie King reading this who might wish to give me a promotional consideration can contact me by email.  A lifetime supply of banana milkshakes would be VERY cool.

And we thank you for your support.

G

Rumors

A rumor is a disseminated report of fact without substantial authority for its truth.  It does not mean that it is untrue, merely that it is not supported by verified sources.  A rumor is not necessarily untrue, any more than being paranoid means that there is not a real reason to be afraid.

However before you can claim a rumor to be a false report of fact then it is necessary to show why it is false.  Merely saying that it is unsubstantiated is not enough.  Proving a rumor to be true is the burden left to those who wish credibility for their statements, but proving   that a statement of fact is indeed a rumor does nothing more than just that—establishing it is a rumor, true or false.

There were and are rumors that under the national health plan being presented to Congress that there will be “death panels” to determine the feasibility of providing continuing health care to individuals who are judged to be terminal or so near to end of life that continuing health care or extraordinary measures are not “cost effective.”

For starters the phrase “death panels” is pejorative from the git-go.  It brings to mind the eugenics of the Third Reich.  If there was any truth to the rumors, then the those who would be making such decisions would most certainly not call themselves by that name, but that begs the question.  It is a rumor.  As far as anyone can tell there is no verifiable truth to the tales being told.

Senator Charles Grassley (R, IA) said that he and a small group of senators in negotiating the health care proposal had dropped any “end of life” provisions from consideration.  It may be inferred that because provisions were dropped from consideration that they were there in the first place.  But not necessarily.  It may have been agreed that no consideration would be given to any such provision even if it were not present to begin with.  This is the nature of negotiating and negotiating strategy.  You decide beforehand what is an acceptable item for consideration even if it is not currently on the table.

Now, is this what Grassley was trying to imply—that there was such a provision on the table while at the same time giving himself wiggle room to back out if questioned on it?  “I didn’t say . . .”  The only person who can probably answer that with any certainty is the senator.  I certainly wouldn’t put it past any politician, Republican or Democrat, to pull such a trick.

It is a well worn and effective trick in politics to start a rumor and force the other side to deny it.  I have a favorite story about Lyndon Johnson spreading a story about carnal relations with swine that I may relate some time.  The point is nobody ever sounds good denying a dirty rumor, and the “Death Panel” rumor is indeed a dirty one—because it plays to fears of the public and there may be kernels of truth therein that have been exaggerated out of all reasonable proportion.

Do doctors have consultations with one another and their patients about end of life situations?  It happens every day.  I have been a party to two such discussions myself.  One involved my mother and the other involved my son.  So, I know it happens.  The fear and the implication here is that if the health care proposal passes that these discussions will be made by government bureaucrats and the concerned parties will be left out.  The fear is that regulations concerning the reduction of health care to terminal and end of life patients will be passed and adhered to in a cold and regulatory fashion.  This, my friends, sounds plausible and gives strength to the rumor.

Calling them “Death Panels” is meant to inspire fear and loathing.  Former Alaska Governor and Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin is credited for popularizing the phrase which is not a surprise to me, unfortunately.  But having her say it makes no more impact on me than if Rush Limbaugh popularized it first.  To me both are jokes of the Republican party.  Which is a shame, seeing as how I lean to the right.

Anyway . . .

There you have it.  It’s a rumor.  It’s unsubstantiated.  It’s out there.  They had to deny it.  And it distracts both sides from the actual substantial debate on the health care proposal.  That may or may not have been the intent, but regardless it was the effect.

Next?

c.e.s.

Becoming Accustomed

In the post,  Dangerous Homelessness, directly below I promised to give the answer to the question, “what is the largest danger of being homeless.”  I think it deserves a separate post and will do it here.

The answer as it was given to me on the day of becoming homeless myself is that a person can become accustomed to homelessness.  After a while, it can become a way of life and hard to give up even if given the chance to do so.  An apt analogy is something called “institutionalization.”

People sentenced to prison after spending enough time behind bars can become so adjusted to living that way that when they are released they cannot cope with living any other way.  Prisoners, unlike homeless people, do eventually have to go if they have not been given sentences guaranteeing that they will end up spending the rest of their lives behind bars.  It is documented that some of them go on to commit crimes after release for the purpose of being returned to prison.  It is not always a conscious decision.  But, conscious or not, surveys show that it happens and that quite frequently.

The situation with the homeless is markedly different is one way.  No one can force a homeless person into not being homeless.  This is not to say that they intentionally become homeless in the same way that people may intentionally have themselves re-incarcerated.  There are myriad causes of homelessness.

However, once a person becomes homeless they learn how to survive in that condition.  They learn how to work social service systems.  They learn where to get free meals.  They learn where to go to get out of the weather.  They learn where to go to sleep even if it is in a shop doorway.  Vagrancy laws are seldom if ever enforced anymore and people are not jailed for being poor and homeless.  They are just forced to “move along.”

Often a homeless person may intentionally break the law for the purpose of being jailed and thereby getting fed and housed

Homelessness itself is a humiliating and degrading experience.  It breeds a loss of all hope for anything other than the condition of being homeless.  If one were to become “accustomed” to living in luxury or just simply material and physical comfort then we would hardly feel sorry fot them.  It would be a good thing to which they could become accustomed.

But, homelessness is a mentally, spiritually, and physically debilitating condition.  It is utterly dehumanizing.  The lifespan of homeless individuals is understandably shorter than those in the non-homeless population.  It is with good reason that we feel compassion for them.

It is a well known characterization of the homeless that they are in many ways morally inferior to others.  They are “shiftless, lazy, bums.”  Being homeless though is a social illness.  I would argue that it cannot be prevented in a Capitalist society but that is in no way a blanket criticism of Capitalism.  It is just a fact of life in a system that is the worst economic system in the world except for all the others.

Death or crippling illness or disease  and/or violence is indeed a large danger of being homeless but it is pale in the light of the utter loss of hope and humanity that accompanies the loss of desire to survive in any other way.  It is a soul robbing experience.

That’s all I have for now.

gryphon.