Stories

A bemused Gary Carter discusses something with me at the Astrodome. Me and Felix Culpa (and a camera) were at the baseball game. Naturally, the Expos offered up The Kid.

MY DAY (OCCUPYING) AT THE CROSBY ESTATE -- REDEFINING WEALTH, HEALTH AND MINTY MELTS...

Yes, well, it's a fabulous day around Rancho Santa Fe. However, having no money, food and gasoline, to name a few of life's pleasures, it was necessary to do a little foraging in the immediate neighborhood of La Hacienda. Sorry.

YUM

YUM

DOUBLE YUM...

OMG! Will you look at that? The back gate to Crosby Estate, somehow ajar.

 You know what this means.

--------    TIME TO OCCUPY AT CREEPY ESTATE.

                                  EXCELSIOR!!! ------------------

ENTERING THE MAGICAL KINGDOM OF CREEPY ESTATE CLUBHOUSE...WHERE IS HARRY POTTER WHEN YOU NEED HIM? FRODO BAGGINS?

FIVE...

Time to get back to business. Looks like dinner in the dumpster for us tonight, dears. Perhaps Devorah Rose will come!

I'M HENEREY THE EIGHTH I YAM...SECOND VERSE SAME AS THE FIRST...I'M...

GETTING DOWN TO THE BUSINESS OF THE 1 PERCENT!

WHO KNEW?

HMMM....MINTY MELTS FOR DINNER. NICE! THANK YOU CREEPY, I MEAN CROSBY, ESTATE. MAY WE HAVE ANOTHER?

CHEESEBURGAH -- @CREEPY ESTATE - $25; @IN-AND-OUT - $2.50.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

see ya later...

Life of John:                               E-books

 Editor's Note: John Hermann is a 42-year-old Rancho Santa Fe resident who has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. He uses a ventilator 24/7. View John's complete blog profile or contact him at johnrsf@pacbell.net.

Life of John: My observations, experiences, musings, and opinions about disability,life,and other matters.

"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."--George Santayana (1863-1952)

I browse through the catalog of e-books on Amazon.com, find a book I want and download it to my kindle reader on my PC. In a matter of seconds, the book is on my computer and ready to be read.

It is so convenient, and for a person with a disability, like me, it makes reading a lot easier. I don't have to ask someone to get a book out of the bookshelf for me, and since I can no longer turn the pages of a book, the click of the mouse, or in my case a hands-free mouse, is all it takes to turn pages. If not for e-books, I would have to listen to audio books or have someone read to me. Listening to audio books can be enjoyable, but it is not the same as reading the written word on a page.

Though e-books are a great benefit to me and many others, I still miss the old-fashioned book. I remember going to the book store, perusing the stacks and buying a pile of books. The alluring smell of new books filled the store. I recall the crack of the spine of a new book as I opened it for the first time, and the sound of pages flipping as I moved through the book. The sight of various books filling a bookshelf was always a pleasant sight and much preferable to a shelf of knick-knacks.

I enjoyed going into used bookstores and looking for low-priced treasures and coming out with  a bag full of books. The dusty smell of old books reminded me of neglected relics of the past. Or going to the library and roaming through the stacks and being overwhelmed with so many choices of books to check out. There were so many ways to interact with books.

I look at my once crowded bookshelves, and now see a paltry selection of books. It's like losing friends. Books were a tangible thing that could be touched, held, smelled. An e-book is a file on a computer, which you interact with in a more sterile way.

Though I may miss these things, I have learned to embrace this new technology. Without it, I would be unable to continue my love of reading.

9/11/01 in 9/11/11 at Del Dios, Calif.

Sept. 11, 2001: Local ironworker Paul Pursley spent 10 weeks at "Ground Zero" following attack.

"Ironworkers worked every day," Pursley said. "We went on 12-hour shifts starting at 6 (a.m.) or 7 (a.m.) The more iron we cut up, the more firemen we could find. But we only found parts; a hand, a leg, a torso, never a complete body. We found parts from 650 people. You thought you would find somebody alive at first, but we never did...

"...I never cut so much steel in my entire life. I hope I never have to again."

 Ground Zero.

That's where Escondido ironworker Paul Pursley found himself in September  2001 on a first-ever visit to New York City.

For the next 10 weeks, in a city reeling with shock, Pursley helped cut away the massive wreckage of the World Trade Center, allowing relief workers to recover some of the 2,992 people killed on Sept. 11.

Pursley flew home on Dec. 6. Later,  sitting in the stilliness of a former girlfriend's San Marcos kitchen, he told of the horror of body parts, the sad daily trek through crowds of people anxiously searching for missing loved ones, the kindness of Salvation Army workers and of being able to touch President Bush.

"You never found a whole piece, whole people," said Pursley, who worked as part of an ironworkers' union contingent attached to a Yonkers, N.Y., wreckage excavation crew. Twenty men worked the day shift and 20 worked the night shift, he said.

"The first few weeks there was nothing really stationary to walk on," Pursley said. "There was so much energy in the pile that stuff would get catapulted 200 to 300 feet in the air. We were cutting through 50-ton pieces of iron. Stuff was all over the place. But the more iron you could cut, the faster firemen could get part of somebody out.

"I've never seen anything like that in my life," Pursley said. "The ground was so hot I went through three pairs of boots in the 2-1/2 months I was there."

But the heat, the dirt, the smoke, even the horribly acrid smell and danger of ground zero were nothing compared to the emotional toll, Pursley said.

"I was working one day and we found a fireman and a civilian trapped in Tower Two," Pursley continued. "They survived the plane crash, made it down to the lobby but they couldn't get out. That was hard.

"It was hard seeing the little kids in town," Pursley said. "Hundreds of people used to line the gates at night when we got off work. They asked: 'Did you see my daddy?' They all were holding pictures.

"There was nothing you could tell them," Pursley said. "That was the hardest part. What do you tell them?"

Marine to ironworker

A 41-year-old Allentown, Pa., native and former Camp Pendleton Marine, Pursley said he was "fascinated" with walking on steel beams as a child. So after receiving an honorable discharge from the Marines with the rank of sergeant he became an ironworker in 1985. He lived in Oceanside before moving to San Marcos in 1998. He moved to Escondido in 2007.

Pursley's odyssey to ground zero began in Hartford, Conn.

A member of San Diego Ironworkers Local 229, Pursley was on a job for Lewis Equipment of Grand Prairie, Texas. The crew was finishing installing beams with tower cranes for the huge Mohegan Sun Casino around Hartford "the day it happened," he said.

"We had a rented van and another job to go to in Washington, D.C.," continued Pursley, a strapping man with a soft voice. "We saw both buildings smoking as we were going by New York on the way. We were in D.C. a day-and-a-half finishing up a job at the convention center. They didn't need our help at the Pentagon but when we finished we asked Kyle Lewis, the owner of Lewis Construction, if we could go to New York and he said, 'Sure, you guys can volunteer there.'

"I had never been to New York," Pursley said. "My partner, Rusty Henry from Stillwater, Okla., and myself went there on the (Sept.) 17th, right down to the job site. As long as you were an ironworker you had carte' blanche.

Pursley said they worked non-stop the first day.

"It was pretty much disorganized with guys everywhere trying to volunteer in the chaos. We went to the union hall the next day," he said.

While plenty of police and fire personnel swarmed across the dust-filled, chaotic scene, they couldn't do much without help from skilled ironworkers who cut through the mangled iron and steel with cranes, torches, and big tools, not to mention sweat and desire.

Pursley said he and Henry were the only two out-of-town ironworkers at the scene. For 10 long weeks, the steel burners cut up towering beams and iron.

"Ironworkers worked every day," Pursley said. "We went on 12-hour shifts starting at 6 (a.m.) or 7 (a.m.) The more iron we cut up, the more firemen we could find. But we only found parts; a hand, a leg, a torso, never a complete body. We found parts from 650 people. You thought you would find somebody alive at first, but we never did."

Pursley added: "With all that debris and elevator cables pulling the pile, guys were getting fingers and hands smashed. Lots of accidents. Lots of guys hurt. I thought we were going to be there for a year."

Pursley said he and his partner were paid through the union but ended up renting a hotel room in lower Manhattan, then a motel room in Secaucus, N.J., that cost them $6,000 to $8,000. Salvation Army workers brought them food at the site.

At the end of a grueling day's shift, the ironworkers would hike a mile to get beyond the crime scene, maybe grab a snack, head out through the Port Authority Terminal on a bus to New Jersey, finally collapsing from exhaustion into motel beds.

"People would sit by you on the bus and you were so filthy," Pursley said. "Not even like being dirty, such a weird odor. I'd wash my clothes three times and still they were dirty."

 Several close calls

One of Pursley's closest calls came on Oct. 23, according to a notification filed with construction contractors.

Police believed they had cleared out some of the estimated 1.7 million .38 caliber rounds from a destroyed U.S. Customs arsenal at the World Trade Center and directed Pursley to burn iron at one of the swept areas. A loud pop and painful burning of his cheek later, he found himself taken to St. Vincent's Hospital emergency room for treatment. He still has the scar on his face.

Alert and in good spirits, Pursley returned to the scene the next day and kept on working. On Nov. 13, a large excavator swung across a debris pile near where Pursley was burning through steel. The pile collapsed and Pursley fell down the 25-foot pile, injuring his left wrist. Medical workers had to use 18 stitches to close the wound, according to an accident report filed with city of New York Department of Design and Construction.

When celebrities descended on ground zero to lend support, Pursley took pictures with a disposable camera he bought. He has a picture with actress Susan Sarandon and with Jason Alexander, who played George in "Seinfeld."

And President Bush. Pursley said he went up to the President when he toured ground zero and "pulled on his shirt sleeve."

"I told him, 'I didn't vote for you, but I'm going to touch you.' " He then took a picture of the surprised president.

 Thank you letters meant a lot

 Pursley said he got a lift from schoolchildren's thank you letters forwarded by Salvation Army workers. He said he planned to answer all of the dozen or so letters he brought back to San Marcos. A lot of them shared sentiments like those expressed by Ryan Moran, a sixth grader at Pearson Elementary of Poulsbo, Wash.

Addressed to Iron Workers, Ground Zero, N.Y., N.Y., Moran's letter began, "Dear Savers of Helpless Citizens," and continued: "You guys are really brave and your heroic actions during the tragedy will remain in our hearts forever. We know we can count on heroes like you. You've changed everyone's lives."

Salvation Army workers also gave Pursley a red-white-and-blue hard-hat signed by many of them with inspirational sayings as a parting gift. "It's our house ---- never forget," one aid worker said.

But in the end, the experience was a once-in-a-lifetime, and a fulfilling one, Pursley said.

"All the people I met there were fantastic to me," Pursley said. "It was incredible. It was weird leaving and coming home. Hopefully there is closure for the victims and their families."

Despite local contractors wanting him to resume work as a foreman, Pursley said he wants to relax for a month.

"I have never seen so much iron in my life. I never cut so much steel in my entire life. I hope I never have to again," he said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well-known New York photographer Joel Meyerowitz took seminal images at Ground Zero, many of which were displayed at a groundbreaking exhibit titled "Echoes of Ground Zero" in 2003.

Lawrence Weschler in conversation with photographer Joel Meyerowitz in the living room of the latter’s New York City home, 7 April 2003 is available at the pdf file posted here.

This portion of the interview dealt with Pursley, and his iconic image that Meyerowitz displayed next to another iconic...c. 1650 image by the Spanish painter Velazquez.

LW: Well, this. 

JM:  Amazing. What a guy. He was a welder, commonly called a burner down there. His job was to go through the site and as each level was exposed, he would walk through with a torch and burn all the small standing steel so that men could walk through and do their search.

LW: Do you know his name?

JM: I do know his name . . . Paul Pursley.

LW: What is fascinating to me here is that we’re playing off the Velázquez of Mars with his tool and his helmet and his mustache. I don’t want to suggest or insist that you had this specific thing in your head, but you too are treating this worker as a kind of god or a personage of great nobility.

JM: I was just going to say that he was noble. The reason I saw him as noble was that he came up the road bend here, and I saw him, and we had just heard a bugler playing Taps, and there were eight of us standing around and we were all in tears and as he came to me I saw this little glint of a tear in his eye – you can see it in the photograph, he’s slightly dewy-eyed. And as he came forward, I just felt the power of this man and his nobility, and I stepped in front of him and just made a photograph. We didn’t have much of an interaction. He really didn’t even pose for me, he just stopped walking. And then I asked him something and he laughed and he said, “I was just wounded today. I was burning the steel and I exploded some ammunition that was buried.” He said, “A piece of bullet shell hit me in the face and I got five stitches under here.” He laughed. He laughed. And then he just stood there and I made this picture and I realized he is heroic.

LW: One of the things that’s amazing about Velázquez is how when he chooses to do a god, for perhaps one of the first times in history the god is just some mill worker. I mean, this is clearly some guy who worked as some smithy or something, who knows who he is. This is some guy who is a working-class guy, patently not a nobleman, you don’t think?

JM: No, not a nobleman.

LW: And yet a god. So, that’s kind of interesting.

Casey Anthony gone from Rancho Santa Fe but not forgotten: her RSF attorney Todd Macaluso threatens lawsuit against The Morton Report...

UPDATED 6 P.M. THURSDAY, AUG. 11 AT LOS ANGELES (LALATE EXCLUSIVE) – Is Casey Anthony heading to Houston, Texas? The plane, originally linked to Casey Anthony by NBC33, departed from Orange County this morning. It set to arrive in Houston, Texas this afternoon. In July, NBC33, the Baton Rouge NBC News affiliate, reported that Casey Anthony had been travelling on N950KA, not just from Orlando to Orange County, but across the country. Last month, the news station reported “sources say the plane is the same one she [Casey Anthony] was seen boarding in other parts of the country.”

For more, visit LALATE HERE...

                                            (Photo: Jose Baez, Casey Anthony, Todd Macaluso)

O.K., I'll come out and say it. In my OPINION based on investigations and information, I BELIEVE, THINK, FEEL, the infamous tot mom Casey Anthony was at 4805 Linea Del Cielo for a period of time, possibly from Thursday, Aug. 4, following a much publicized Columbus, Ohio, photo shoot on Aug. 3 until Tuesday, Aug. 9. The numerous reasons, rationale and back story have been published here at http://tiny.cc/9s66p. Or look below in the queue. Our first story is at: http://ahharsfnews.com/2011/08/07/tot-mom-casey-anthony-spot .

I further state that I spoke with a woman on the intercom whom I now believe was Ms. Anthony. I just happened to be there at the right/wrong time when they were expecting somebody else. I believe I know precisely the identity of the woman who told Anthony to get off the intercom and closed the gate Anthony opened, but I don't want to be sued, you know. I am confident in the identifications, however. The fact is the inappropriate nature of stashing tot mom away at a $5.2 million Covenant estate, no matter how secure and well-appointed with helipad etc., and the attendant publicity moved the fugitive show along...to an as-yet undisclosed location.

The story from the Morton Report Blog and here has spun near and far with  HLN's Nancy Grace devoting helf of her Monday show to the sighting. That's when the kitchen got hot and the going got going, if you catch my drift. 

An interesting sidebar has developed over this story between Macaluso, with his residence under foreclosure at Rancho Santa Fe according to sources, and The Morton Report. The legal threats by Macaluso directed against Dawn Olsen apparently began when KSWB-TV's Fox Morning Show contacted Macaluso to ask for comments about the reported sighting of Anthony at his disputed property. KSWB also had invited Olsen and myself to the studio for a Thursday morning appearance.

Macaluso sent an email to the station making untrue charges, which he forwarded to Dawn and me. In my case, I pointed out I never said I spoke to his neighbors -- the emails are posted below -- and he seemed to apologize, or at least square things with me. Dawn out of Los Angeles, wasn't so lucky. I will start off her account here and then direct you to The Morton Report account of the Macaluso legal threats.

THE MORTON REPORT BLOG...

Last Saturday we published an article about a tip we received on the whereabouts of Casey "Tot Mom" Anthony.  

Our source, a reporter for The Morton Report, had attended a dinner party in Southern California last Friday, August 5, when others at the dinner party stated they had seen a woman appearing to be Casey Anthony, accompanied by what appeared to be two body guards, in and around the Rancho Sante Fe area; and in particular, in the vicinity of a luxury home owned by Anthony's former defense attorney, Todd Macaluso.

We researched ownership of the home, verified that it was owned by Macaluso, and came to the conclusion that there was enough corroboration to post a story on these rumors.

Then we were contacted by HLN's Nancy Grace show to comment on our story. Grace's team also felt the connection between Anthony and Macaluso was strong enough to make this scoop a reasonable possibility.

Meanwhile, local reporter Dan Weisman of Ah Ha Santa Fe did some investigating on the ground. For his story, he discovered the home was listed on the market at $5.2 million, featured a private helipad, an Infinity pool, and was in a secure, gated community...

THE FULL STORY DETAILING THE MACALUSO EFFECT IS HERE. The Morton Report is at: http://www.themortonreport.com/

HERE NOW LIVE AND DIRECT TO BEHIND THE SCENES OF A MEDIA INTERVIEW REQUEST GONE WILD....

1.)

2.)

FYI 

Regards, Todd Macaluso

Sent from my iPhone

Begin forwarded message:

From: Todd Macaluso <tmacaluso@macalusolawsd.com>
Date: August 10, 2011 1:55:11 PM PDT
To: "Luck, Brad" <bluck@tribune.com>
Subject: Re: kswb fox5 request

BradThe reports of these "bloggers" are completely false. If there any false statements aired, we will pursue any and all legal remedies available by anyone who disseminates such false information. We have verified with our neighbors that no such statements were made to the Ah ha Rancho Santa Fe news or the Morton report. We will pursue an action against Mr. Weiss an and Ms. Olson of false information is disseminated. 

Regards, Todd Macaluso
Sent from my iPhone
On Aug 10, 2011, at 1:46 PM, "Luck, Brad" <bluck@tribune.com> wrote:

Dear Mr. Macaluso,  

My name is Brad Luck and I’m the Executive Producer for the FOX5 Morning News on KSWB-TV here in San Diego.  

   

We are having on Dan Weisman from Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News and Dawn Olsen from The Morton Report tomorrow morning at 8:15 a.m. to talk about their stories that Casey Anthony is living at your Rancho Santa Fe home.  

I wanted to see if you would like to come on our show at that time to give your response to their reports.  

We could also send a live truck to you so you wouldn’t have to come in studio.  

   

If you are not interested in appearing live on our show, we would be interested in any written statement from you on these reports.  

   

Thank you in advance.  

   

Brad  

   

Brad Luck  

Executive Producer  

FOX5 Morning News  

bluck@tribune.com  

direct: (858) 573-6538

newsroom: (858) 573-6500

twitter: @BradLTV

7191 Engineer Road

San Diego, CA 92111

 

KSWB-TV, a Tribune Broadcasting station

http://www.fox5sandiego.com

3.)

Todd Macaluso

FYI Regards, Todd Macaluso Sent from my iPhone Begin forwarded message: > Fro...

Aug 10 (1 day ago)

Reply

92067 Rancho Santa Fe Free Press to Todd

show details 4:38 PM (22 hours ago)

That's cool, but if you read the story I never said I spoke to neighbors, I cited Ms. Olsen's reporting. I'm very careful in how I approach possibly touchy subjects and have won first place investigative reporting awards from both the California and Florida press associations. Dan

- Show quoted text -

-- 
Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News, dedicated digital media for an independent and unique population. Visit us at  http://ahharsfnews.com/

4.)

Todd Macaluso to me

show details 4:41 PM (22 hours ago)

Ok Dan

We are at our wits end with the media. 

Regards, Todd Macaluso

Sent from my iPhone

- Show quoted text -

4.)

Hi Dan,

I’m sorry we actually have to cancel.

Something came up and we won’t have the time to be able to do this tomorrow.

But please stay in touch and let us know if you write anymore on this subject.

Thanks,

Brad

From: 92067 Rancho Santa Fe Free Press [mailto:92067freepress@gmail.com] 
Sent: Tuesday, August 09, 2011 6:41 PM

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

WELL, THERE YOU HAVE IT...FOR NOW.  REMEMBER TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL MEDIA!!!

'Feeding the Rich' RETURNS With Twist! 'The Kingdom of Eric Parker, Where I Rule the Internet'...

Editor's Note: Enough of this cookie-cutter commentary claptrap. Eric Parker is back WITH A VENGEANCE, or at least an edge. Good for you!

When last we met the longtime local resident and former Leucadia Pizza delivery driver around Rancho Santa Fe -- hence the name f his legendary 'Feeding the Rich ' blog -- he was laid off, out of unemployment benefits and recently relocated to Tuscaloosa, Ala. to an appointment as an English instructor at the University of Alabama.

Eric survived the deadly Tuscaloosa tornadoes, and now, like the Anicent Mariner, is here to enthrall you.

Visit his blog directly at  http://networkedblogs.com/kcw6n.

 

"cutest. picture. ever." bullshit!

We've all seen this poor behavior. As unregenerate children, we have probably done it ourselves. In the social media world, we want our friends to know how great of a time we're having or how wonderful something of theirs is, so we resort to hyperbole and punctuation abuse: "cutest. picture. ever." (This was an actual facebook comment made on a picture of a woman and her baby.) One of the major downsides to the Internet Age is that office speak travels like wildfire. (Office speak? Think of the rising intonation people use when describing the list of shit they did at work today.) This kind of behavior will not be tolerated in the Kingdom of Eric Parker for several reasons:

1) You sound like an idiot. If you verbalize that comment above aloud––"cutest. picture. ever." [emphasis added]––you sound like what people my age would call a stupid Valley Girl (not a good thing). It really translates to "Oh, my God, that is, like, the cutest picture, ever!" The Valley girl dialect, unfortunately, has become the dialect of reality television and much of everyday life. Avoid it.

2) You're following a trend, which makes you boring. Think of something original to say.

3) You're misusing the period. I know, rules are meant to be broken, you punker, but not in my kingdom. A period follows an independent clause that can stand alone. It does not mean a pause. It needs a noun and verb; that's it. Eric rules. That is a complete sentence (and true). If you insist on sounding like a stupid Valley Girl who works in an office, try this: "That is the cutest . . . picture . . . ever." At least you're using proper punctuation.

4) You're lying, on several fronts.

First, the said picture or nail job or day at the beach was probably not the cutest or best in the history of the world, or even your own dumb life. I get it: you're using hyperbole. You're smart. You're funny. All your friends like you. But good hyperbole, while always an exaggeration, captures an emotional truth: "It took an eternity for me to lose my virginity." We know, for most people who haven't entered a monastery, this isn't true. But the two to four (six? eight? ten? twenty? are you serious?) years it took from reaching puberty to losing your virginity felt like an eternity, and it gave most young boys a distinct understanding of what hell must be like.

Second, you're being insincere, which makes you a bad person, an ego stroker.

Third, you're lying. Especially in the case of the comment mentioned above: "cutest. picture. ever." The baby wasn't even that cute. The mom was actually much better looking. And on the scale of cuteness, human babies don't even come close to other animals. Do you need evidence?

 The above image of a polar bear cub is, on a cuteness scale of one to ten, as close to a ten as you can get. The picture of the mom and baby, if we're being honest (and honesty is valued in my kingdom), would be a five.

WHY I AM BOYCOTTING RANCHO SANTA FE'S JULY 4 ACTIVITIES

Hypocrisy, theirs, yours, mine for even trying to help publicize this farce in the past.

THE FOURTH OF JULY should be a great celebration of a great nation, a nation committed to equality of opportunity, charity at home and promoting the cause of freedom around the world. It should be a great time for friends, families and strangers to celebrate our wonderful lives and hopes for the future.

What do we have this July 4?

We have the amazing increase in disparity of wealth with the top 1 percent of Americans -- YOU AT RANCHO SANTA FE -- controlling 40 percent of the nation's wealth. This economic class gap has increased 100-fold since Ronald Reagan's years. This trickle-down cynical crap is not an "ideology" but an excuse to rip off the majority of people, so the few can enjoy luxury estates, Jaguars and Porsche's, luxury loaf-styles while their countrymen and women scrimp and starve, lack even basic health care or the opportunity to advance economically.

Bankers, financial pigs, oil con companies and a lot of YOU around Rancho Santa Fe are responsible for the degradation of the world's climate and opportunity for real Americans so you can drive your luxury MercedesBMWLexus to this parade,  pretending you're real Americans instead of greedy frauds.

Of course, Reagan raised taxes, but his legacy gave us these sick politicians, and their beneficiaries/sponsors; their endless pork and legislative and tax loopholes;  and ever-increasing tax breaks for millionaires and billionaires, their corporate jets and oil companies making billions of dollars monthly while tens of millions of Americans lack even the basics for a fruitful existence or a shot at a better life.

Since the people ripping off our children and our future are the ones celebrating the loudest, passing out flags as if it's theirs and not ours, actual patriots will not participate in your farce.

Closest to home, the hypocrisy is even more mind-blowing. Start straightaway with Martin Garrick, last year's parade bigwig. He was busted for suspicion of DUI last month at the state Capitol. His public response: A quick, pro-forma apology and back to business as usual.

Garrick just sent out a round of emails at taxpayer expense detailing in simplistic form how he was fighting to lower taxes. Thanks for nothing. No, make that thanks for not killing an innocent person while you were driving drunk. Garrick's post-DUI behavior has been outrageous. See ya at the July 4 parade then, slugger. I won't be there.

Garrick last year draped himself in red,white and blue as he waved to the crowd and spoke about what a great guy he is, you know cutting taxes and screwing poor people. Of course, Randy "Duke" Cunningham, convicted bribe taking felon congressman, also rode proudly in this parade as grand marshall and flag-draped what-not for years, DECADES even. So, too has Brian Bilbray and Bill Horn, and a number of other GOP politicians and fellow rip-off artists.

Screw YOUR July 4, where a bunch of a-holes will be going around parading to the effect they're ripping you and me off, opposing health care for people, attempting to bring down the entire financial structure of the world because they want continued ridiculous tax breaks for the people who don't need them while cutting any help to poor or unfortunate people to the bone.

Hey: You want lack of government and lack of oversight protection for people who can't afford it, how dare you even celebrate the Fourth of July that is dedicated to every value and institution you abhor. Oh, that's RIGHT, hypocrisy, the shame of our nation.

Sorry, I'm  not covering this travesty, not putting it out there as anything more than a sham. I'll leave that to the people with no conscience and no interest in the actual principles of equality and freedom that created our great nation.

I believe I am going to boycott his parade, arranged by people who rip off the nation and the world and celebrate July 5, maybe the day we have the start of a new revolution a'la Founding Father's Thomas Jefferson's admonition. The pursuit of freedom is not something left to Egyptians and Tunisians, but to you and me, here and now. Fight On!

A SAN DIEGO COUNTY FAIR BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD BE BUTTERED TO BE FRIED AND STUFF...

The San Diego County Fair, never fails to impress. As usual, all sorts of amazing stuff was going down in plain sight. As a crowd expert, I as able to cut through the chase for a few. I've got some good stories and coverage and stuff to follow this week and next week. After that, by the way, it's the annual Fourth of July Parade at Paseo Delicias. I've got some interesting stuff there, too.

As for the Fair, these are a few quick Summer Solstice images with more to follow later. I was there when that ride went bonkers and injured the guy and that kid. Hmmm. I also could not bear to be part of the elephant opression clique so wished them solidarity from afar, appropriately enough the Fairgrounds security Apparatchik gathering hole.

As I've said, I've got a bunch more, but got to run just now.Anyone wanting to post their own photos, videos and stories from the Fair, feel freeto do so or email them to me at 92067freepress@gmail.com and I'll do it.

Dan W.

Marco Lazaro, stung to death by bees, his humanity nearly killed by mainstreet media et al...

Marco Lazaro, stung to death by bees, his real story overlooked by mainstreet media

(Marco Lazaro  died June 16, 2010. His death and the news coverage of it raised many questions, all the more relevant today. As for the killer bees. They're baaaaaack, as reported by W.C. Varones at Enicintas Undercover. To wit: "Like the swallows returning to Capistrano and the flies returning to Del Mar, the killer bees have returned to Encinitas. Yesterday I drove through a swarm of them, then came home to find another bunch contemplating building a nest in the compost bin. Last year the killer bees arrived in late April and early May. Then in June they killed poor Marco Lazaro.")

Marco Lazaro, 54, died around 11 a.m. Wednesday, June 16 after he smashed a backhoe into a giant beehive at a property near the intersection of Manchester Avenue and Pacific Rancho Drive at Olivenhain.

Lazaro was clearing brush near San Elijo Lagoon when he suffered more than 500 bee stings as he ran from the backhoe to a nearby shack to avoid the attack, then collapsed there.

Paramedics took Lazaro to nearby Scripps Memorial Hospital at Encinitas where he was pronounced dead. He died of anaphylaxis, an allergic reaction to the stings, according to the San Diego Medical Examiner.

Experts who later investigated the hive said it was unusually large, containing 60,000 to 80,000 hybrid Africanized bees. The hive had sat undisturbed in the field for untold years, they said.

Lazaro was a refugee from the Guatemalan highlands who came to Olivenhain more than 30 years ago, living at the property as a caretaker and landscaper, according to sources.

Two aspects of this story struck me quite personally.

Bees and Me

Firstly, when I was about 10 years old attending summer camp, I horribly ran straight into a beehive and was stung 50 to 100 times. Since now I know experts consider 150 to 300 bee stings enough to immobilize a large person, I can thank my lucky star I wasn't more badly injured that day. As it were, it hurt like hell for a week, or so, and made me bee-shy for a long time.

I've gotten over that, and, in fact, love bees. After reading about bee intelligence, I'm impressed, not scared at all. In fact, I give them mad props.

For example, did you know bees have incredibly large brains for their size? Researchers believe bees are highly efficient, actually -- just like I pretend to be --  and work only a few hours a day at their appointed tasks. Then, they spend a lot of down-time relaxing, doing whatever they do for fun, and even daydreaming, according to specialists.

Oh, the humanity: Poor Marco Lazaro and the even poorer remnants of corporate journalism

That's all cool, but the second aspect of the story striking me squarely at its roots, was more disturbing. Marco Lazaro, the person, seemed more like a tragic bystander than victim.

Every, and by that I mean EVERY, local news source immediately shifted from Lazaro's death to lame, impersonal, by-the-press-release dissertations on the dangers of bee stings, adding cautionary warnings about what to do in bee attacks, the growth of the bee problem, and related generic nonsense.

Marco Lazaro, the victim? Sorry, Charley horses, nothing else to say about him; whether he was a good guy or hard worker, what people thought about him, what he might have accomplished in life, or not.

Despicable excuses for news coverage, which unfortunately was the way of much of the world up to today as journalism was turned into a cash cow to be looted by faux business types starting in the late 1980s. (Locally, you can just look at Gilroy-based Mainstreet Media, publishers of the Rancho Santa Fe Review-Del Mar Times-Solana Beach Something and the Coast News "Group" who may, or may not, still be in business at Encinitas.)

So, actual journalists were downsized, and then laid off, in the 2000s as the bottom-feeding, bottom-line non-journalist publishers sought to maximize their greed, a kind of journalistic shadow play of Wall Street and the real estate frauds.

Without actual journalists driving coverage, looking for the humanity inside the breaking story rather than its bottom line coverage, people such as Marco Lazaro, went by the wayside, yielding to the mediocrity illustrated by his ultimate story's coverage demise.

New digital media partnerships restoring responsible journalism

Thank goodness, then, for the Internet and the new digital media environment bringing together citizen bloggers and professional journalists in a responsive, and responsible, partnership.

The dinosaur corporate profit-mongering breed is on its way out the door with vastly hyper-bloated overhead costs and no reliable, or interesting, content, hemorrhaging money by the bank account-load. The lean, and not so much mean as appropriately resourced, models such as Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe are thriving.

With that said, we return to Marco Lazaro's real-life story. WaveBlog of New Encinitas ran the story the way it should have been run in the first place, talking about the man who was victimized by fate and a wrong turn of his backhoe, not the hype of "bee danger."

WaveBlog alone -- citizen journalists -- did the story right. What's left of "professional" -- substitute the word "corporate" -- journalism hyped the alarmist crapola, ignoring the humanity. WaveBlog was there with actual insight and compassion.

So, letting you know a bit more about Marco Lazaro, the man, we re-publish, and pass along, the WaveBlog story, which ran without a byline, even, well under the dying media radar, restoring the humanity somewhat to this overlooked, and most important, element lost in corporate journalistic translation. Long story short, please read on...

--- Dan Weisman

founder/editor

Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe

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                                                                   WaveBlog

MY FRIEND MARCO, GUATEMALAN, STUNG TO DEATH BY AFRICAN BEES IN ENCINITAS

In 1989, my wife Sarah and I were expecting our second daughter; Molly Margaret, I was working for Noren Honda and Mike Doyle of Doyle Sports that retailed surf-wear in The Lumberyard on Highway 101, when I was first introduced to Marco Lazaro and his common-law wife, Rosa.

A mixed-non-marriage, Rosa from Central Mexico and Marco hailing from the Guatemalan highlands lived in a tin shack in a gully off a barranca on the property of Mrs. Rosemary Woods (Wiegand) on a ramshackle rancho squeezed between Encinitas Country Day School and the San Elijo Lagoon.

When the local temps dropped below freezing we always took new blankets purchased at clearance sales to Marco and Rosa. They could have a small fire in the shack to keep warm, but always had to leave the door open to the freezing wind to avoid asphyxiation.

Coincidentally, Rosa was a beloved cleaning lady for Walter Steidel who was the San Diego County Regional Retail Vice-President of Robinson’s Department Stores; that my wife, Sarah was a buyer for. There were several connections.

Marco was Indio, deeply red skinned and with the almost-Central American ability to build almost anything out of everything to achieve whatever it was you asked of him; as long as you didn’t care what it looked like; and he earned his money.

Marco was the most dependable person you ever met and was so cynical in his world-view that just a sour look and squinting of his Asiatic visage would make me break into uncontrollable laughter as I read his mind.

Especially when I would come upon one of his phantasmagorical creations tied onto the back of his truck combined with his ability to, somehow, transport everyone else’s cast-offs to Tijuana only to build an entire apartment complex in south-east Tijuana for his common-law non-married mother-in-law; Lourdes, who ended up inheriting a nearly new wheel chair when my own mother-in-law, Beth Lyon faded into the constant shifting mist of Alzheimer’s disease.

Then, in 1992, Marco’s mother became ill, and Marco felt duty-bound to travel down to say goodbye to her as she was near death.

Normally, I would see him every other Tuesday morning, but as he left to return to Guatemala, it was the last time I saw him for over two years.

In January of 1993, Rosa, her sister and mother-in-law (in the Lyon Familia wheelchair) arrived at our home across the street from Park Dale Lane Elementary (where I was the PTA President). Rosa had a bunch of federal paperwork informing us that Marco would not be allowed back in the United States; unless Rosa could prove that there was a job waiting here in Encinitas for him.

Thus began an incredible odyssey of California corporation creation, Mexican and Guatemalan Visas, work permits, federal investigators and even, an ex-girlfriend chick fight between Rosa and one of Marco’s former girlfriends…on my front lawn (Don’t ask).

Finally, in 1994, I convinced the Feds to allow Marco to travel back over the border and become my full time employee.

Marco arrived at my door and we had a little impromptu party as he recounted his adventures with federales, gun thugs, bureaucrats and his mother’s burial trip into the jungles.

This lasted for a week until Mrs. Woods rehired him back and having convinced Rosa of his faithfulness during his exile outside of Guatemala City for the two years, Marco was back home again and ready to work.

But the economy had changed (Euphemism) and we no longer could afford to have Marco garden nor Rosa clean and straighten.

Mr. Steidel, the big Robinson’s boss in La Jolla passed away and Rosa no longer rode the bus to La Jolla every Wednesday to care for the Steidel’s only child and plan her Quincenera.

Then, Rosa’s mother passed on; her sister, passed, and after a year without contact, Rosa, came by the house, emaciated with breast cancer she could not afford treatment for and feigning like nothing was wrong, I fixed tea while she and I reminisced about all the people we loved that have passed away and of the great ‘city’ that Marco had built in Calle Obregon, south of the border.

Six months later, walking out of the Cardiff By The Sea Post Office, I ran into Marco. (Photo) Tears came to his eyes as he recounted Rosa’s last days and he reached inside his truck for he wanted to bring some of the porcelain animals my daughters had made for Rosa at Carla’s Art Camp back a dozen years earlier to my girls; as one of Rosa’s last requests.

I snapped a quick photo of Marco so I could show my daughters that he was still alive and cooking, and then a week later I fell ill and before I knew it, I was in surgery.

I did not see my friend, Marco again.

Over the years, he’d helped me move several times, was a guest at my home, was Mr. Dependable at all times; had one of the keenest abilities to read people (Especially Noren ‘Napoleon’ Honda) and also had one of the trippiest naturally spikes of a hair for all time.

WEDNESDAY, June 16, 2010
I was at dinner with the Encinitas Fire Chief on Wednesday night, late, when the Chief was called by a Division Captain and informed that an Encinitas resident had been stung to death by bees.

We all shuddered at the table and asked for more morbid details.

The next morning, just before 5:00 a.m., I jumped on the computer and popped up the local daily and to my horror, slowly my disbelief became tears boiling out of my eyes and down onto my keyboard.

My friend Marco, who I had jumped through federal hoops to return my longtime friend to his common-law wife, Rosa, had died an incredibly painful and violent death.

Stung to death by 500 ‘Africanized’ bees on Mrs. Wood’s rancho.

Marco absolutely did not deserve to die the way he did and I am sure that somewhere today, maybe many places in Calle Obregon, many a candle is being burnt for Marco and Rosa; as we held our own prayer vigil for him with some smoking votives surrounded by the porcelain animals that Marco had returned to Amanda and Molly after his life mate had passed on.

Vaya con dios, mi amigo.

Yes, go with God.

Your very hard, very happy life is finally over. We hope you are at peace.

Marco, my friend...

...For more from WaveBlog, visit  http://newencinitasnetwork.org/blog/?p=313

FALLING UP -- COMINGS AND GOINGS AROUND RANCHO SANTA FE, CALIF. AREA WITH DAN WEISMAN

Welcome. And whatever that guy'girl in 'Cabaret' sez. Paseo Delicias Avenue.

 Some short takes from around town this week, A few of these are in the what da ya know variety, but if you didn't' see them here, you wouldn't see them anywhere. Somewhat surprising stuff if I do say so myself in best Ed Grimley fashion.

Actually, I first wrote an amazing 5,000 word diatribe to go with this update. a lot of it was talking about what a little money would do for us here, but then it sounded kind of whiney although totally true. So, I'll skip it for now.

The story began: "I'm continually amazed about the quantity and quality of stories around Rancho Santa Fe, Olivenhain, Del Dios, etc. that go unreported and unrecognized..."

And away we go...

COMINGS

Ranch Deli Market has put the market in Ranch Deli big-time. Landmark -- and four-star rated in the informal dining world -- Fairbanks Ranch Deli has blown up like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon glomming over the space occupied by the Farm Fresh Market convenience store.

 The deli is a well-known way-station dating to 1984. It's at 16236 San Dieguito Road., otherwise known as Fairbanks Village Building # 2-13. The expansion doubled the size of the dining area as well as added wine and sundry sales.

Farm Fresh Market always was a bit of a misnomer. Oddly out of sync with this, the most upscale of areas

Yelp Review by 'Tony N' Capturing Essence of: 

 In it I'm Tony Andolini, an Italian tough from the Bronx trying to get close to the evil don who killed my father.

One day he summons me to a deli for a job. But when I get there, the don is sitting in a chair and 5 of his biggest soldiers are waiting for me. They grab me and hold me down on the butcher's block. 

"You thought I didn't know who you were? You're the son of that puttana that stole my prosciutto!"

"What? That's all???"

"Yes - now let's make some sausage, boys."

This is when I wake up craving some deli sandwiches. 

Ranch Deli is not one of these places. The owners are Middle Eastern, the staff is comprised of Mexicans, no one greets me with "Eyyyy! Doh-neeeee!!!"  And yet, they manage to make some really awesome sandwiches, pasta and soups. Which leads me to suspect that there's someone named Guiseppe in the back doing all the prep work. They keep him docile by setting up a tv in his cell locked on Italian Series A soccer highlights and cigarettes. 

This is a really popular spot for people working around Fairbanks Ranch/RSF. I'm not sure if that's because it's pretty good (which it is) or if it's one of the only delis in the area (which it is). I'd go with a Grosso - salami, prosciutto, provolone mozzarella and various vegetables with some Italian dressing and pepperccinis. 6" for $7.99 and 12" for $12.99. The soccer moms (and there are a lot of them here) seem to love the salads here and the soups are pretty hearty and filling. Also available are pizza slices and burritos. 

Take it from me - a guy who watches a lot of gangster movies - this is good stuff. It might not be authentic, but when you're out in the boondocks, it really hits the spot.

GOINGS

Gracie Mahvi went out of business last week. Not totally, but totally outside Rancho Santa Fe. Gracie will maintain a Sorrento Mesa warehouse for her designs, but she is out of the retail game.

I've spoken to Gracie a few times over the years and have so much respect for her it's funny, since I don't usually think much of...well, anyway, this lady so has it together I'm sorry we're not married. So there, I said it.

 Sadly, however, she closed her Del Rayo Village store after a dozen years, and after closing her Paseo Delicias shop last year. The shops were doing surprisingly well in these economic times, but Gracie wanted t take personal time to spend with family and such.

Joining the glorious heritage of the dearly departed Robyn Nussbaum Shoe Lounge, these two stores should be in the Fairbanks Ranch Merchants Hall of Fame as charter members.

Salutations and salute....

  DUMPSTERS (DIVING OPTIONAL)

I've said it before and I've said it again. Rancho Santa Fe has the BEST of everything, including the BEST DUMPSTERS FOR DIVING IN THE WORLD.

Not only are these dumpsters state-of-the-art, they contain an incredible assortment of goodies from foodstuffs to financials. What's more they are totally unsullied by the horrible stench of poor -- UGGH POOR -- people rummaging through the goodies. These dumpsters are pure as melting Arctic iceberg water.

In my humble opinion, however, these particular dumpsters reign supreme. I am naming them the #1 dumpsters for diving in San Diego County and possibly the West Coast (haven't been to Montecito or Atherton lately).

A special Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News shout-out then. Do you recognize these dumpsters. the finest dumpsters in all the land. IF you do, we will be having a special flash mob meet-up there 4 p.m. Sunday, June 19. See ya there.

RANCHO SANTA FE FIRE STATION #3

 This is your big boy. The $5 million uber-fire station and training facility at 6356 El Apajo, across the street from Helen Woodward Animal Center is WAY behind schedule and...Cool, but did you know there were some political shenanigans taking place behind the scenes, too. Maybe that has something to do with the delay. That story continues to develop and will be addressed later in June.

As for Fire Station #3, Rancho Santa Fe , we sing praises of thee...Once promised for May, May has gone and now the new date is when? Whenever they get round to it, I guess, they haven't provided an update. Oh well.

MISCELLANEOUS

Lemon Twist now open 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday at 8175 Del Dios Highway Rancho Santa Fe, CA 92067 - (858) 756-0826. Good stuff!

But what about this outrage?

I'm "outing" this "scoop" at the end since it's such a scandal, but a dumb scandal. The former proposed site for the ill-fated moronic 'The Lilian' mixed-BS development -- it went belly-up and couldnt get any county permits by the way -- has morphed and phoenix-like risen from its own ashes as THIS...Plaza de Acacias monstrosity. Same song, different verse. You will be reading it's unfiltered PR line soon enough at the Ecinitas Coast News and Rancho Santa Fe at Carmel Valley, San Diego Review, but this is the first of what it looks like and good luck to this piece of tomfakery.

YEAH THAT'S HOW WE ROLL! All for now folks....

Kurt Bardella GONE WILD - You can't keep a fired Issa-Bilbray aide down...and other San Diego County GOPisms...

 Wow. Politics is crazy, but it is a semi-free country and political junkies need their fixes. In this bizarre case, the notorious Kurt Bardella (photo left) came back with a fury this week, going all bloggy over the newly proposed congressional district boundaries for San Diego County. To find out more about the actual details visit our aggregated story through this link.

When last we saw, Bardella was fired with extreme prejudice by Issa in March. This is what Politico roared:

 Kurt Bardella's downfall: Ambition and ego

 "It’s a story as old as power politics: The staffer who forgets he’s a staffer.

"It rarely ends well. And to people who know him best, that was Kurt Bardella’s downfall — ego and a self-promotional streak that finally cost him his job as deputy communications director for the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee.

"The turning point: POLITICO’s revelation that Bardella had been forwarding other reporters’ e-mail correspondence to Mark Leibovich, a reporter for The New York Times who recently wrote a Bardella-heavy Issa profile and is working on a book about Washington’s political culture."

 He's back. And forth. Just like Bardella went from Bilbray to Issa to Bilbray to Issa's employment over the span of a few years - you know, GOP staffer trading, should come with bubble gum and trading cards -- I'm not sure what to make of it either. Guess it's an addiction. Bardella resumed issuing press releases, but this time FOR BOTH ISSA AND BILBRAY AT THE SAME TIME. He did it on Rostra, the GOP Tea Party blog site.

Take it for what it's worth. The scallawag of a Bardella and some of the other Tea Party bloggers are all up into it over the newly proposed congressional districts that appear to reflect the area more accurately than in the past, which is bad news for the Republicans apparently, at least judging from the early whining.

First, a bit more of the Politico coverage of Bardella's indiscretions, followed by the latest in GOP-(Think?) on the congressional redistricting etc for Rancho Santa Fe and North County courtesy of local GOP guru Jim Sills.

 Enjoy!

-- Dan Weisman, founder/editor Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News

THE NEW WAVE BARDELLA FILES ETC.:

BILBRAY TO RUN IN NEWLY FORMED DISTRICT THAT UNITES PAST AND PRESENT

BILBRAY TO RUN IN NEWLY FORMED DISTRICT THAT UNITES PAST AND PRESENT

Friday, June 10, 2011

posted by Kurt Bardella

Press Release Just Issued from Congressman Bilbray’s camp:

(SAN DIEGO, CA) – Congressman Brian Bilbray released the following statement on the new congressional district boundaries proposed by the California Citizens Redistricting Commission:

“The preliminary maps released by the Citizens Redistricting Commission have ensured that communities of interest are not divided and that political partisanship is not a factor in the districts created to represent San Diegans.

This is a preview of “Bilbray to Run in Newly Formed District that Unites Past and Present”. Read the full post (203 words, estimated 49 secs reading time)

ISSA PLANTS FLAG IN OC-NORTH COUNTY DISTRICT

Friday, June 10, 2011

posted by Kurt Bardella

From Issa Camp:

VISTA, CA – U.S. Congressman Darrell Issa (R-Vista) today released the following statement on the first draft of Congressional district boundaries made public today by the Citizens Redistricting Commission:

“Taking the redistricting process away from state legislators and backroom deals is something I have long supported. While I recognize these maps are not final and there may yet be legitimate questions or revisions, I thank the members of the Citizens Redistricting Commission for their hard work in this process.

This is a preview of “Issa Plants Flag in OC-North County District”. Read the full post (219 words, estimated 53 secs reading time)

REDISTRICTING MAPS ROUND 1 RELEASED…

Friday, June 10, 2011

posted by Kurt Bardella

Here is a link to the draft maps:

http://wedrawthelines.ca.gov/maps-congress-1st-draft.html

WHO WANTS TO BE A REPUBLICAN CONGRESS MEMBER? — JUNE 7 MAPS CREATE THE “GOLD” ONE SHOWN HERE …… POWAY ROGER TAKE NOTE !

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

posted by Jim Sills

Oh Doctor!  Overnight the State Redistricting Commission posted their June 7th revised maps, and voila, a no-incumbent Republican  congressional seat appears!   (Susan Davis is in the “blue” district.  Other incumbents are to the North, East and South.)   The “new” district has Rancho Bernardo, Point Loma, Penasquitos, La Jolla, Mira Mesa, Clairemont, Bay Park, Scripps Ranch and the City of  Poway. This district, if adopted,  is a lock to elect a Republican member of Congress next November.

So what are you waiting for, Poway Roger?  Opportunity is knocking, and loudly no less!

This is a preview of “Who wants to be a Republican Congress Member? — June 7 maps create the “Gold” one shown here …… Poway Roger take Note !”. Read the full post (206 words, 1 image, estimated 49 secs reading time)

NORTH COUNTY UPDATE — NEW JUNE 7 MAPS STILL FEATURE ROCKY CHAVEZ AGAINST SHERRY HODGES ON THE COAST, WITH MARIE WALDRON OF ESCONDIDO THE INLAND FRONT-RUNNER

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

posted by Jim Sills

Greetings, Redistricting fans!  Overnight the Calif. Citizens Redistricting Commission published draft new State Assembly maps, and in North County they still create a Coastal district (Oceanside, Carlsbad, Encinitas), and an Inland seat (Escondido, Fallbrook, Ramona).  If adopted, this map means a potential Rocky Chavez (of Oceanside) vs. Sherry Hodges (of Encinitas) GOP race along the Coastline.  It is also very good news for Escondido City Councilwoman Marie Waldron as the clear Republican leader now on the Inland side.  Her district would absorb much rural territory now held by termed-out Riverside State Assemblyman Kevin Jeffries of AD 66.

Stay tuned to SD Rostra for further late-breaking coverage of the State Redistricting Rodeo and Strawberry Festival.   You can also follow the festivities at this link as well:  http://wedrawthelines.ca.gov/meeting_handouts.html

PRELIMINARY NORTH COUNTY ASSEMBLY MAPS— ROCKY CHAVEZ VS. SHERRY HODGES ON THE COAST— MARIE WALDRON NOW THE INLAND DISTRICT REPUBLICAN FRONTRUNNER

Friday, June 3, 2011

posted by Jim Sills

The State Redistricting Commission will view these draft maps drawn by their staff this week.  View all of them here for the entire state: http://wedrawthelines.ca.gov/meeting_handouts.html

If they are adopted (no certainty!) here’s how they appear to affect North County’s Assembly districts.  Caveat:  These analyses are written on the fly, and the Maps may well be changed later.

First,  the COASTAL District:  Runs north/south from Oceanside to Carlsbad to Encinitas and Solana Beach, also Vista to the east.  That means recent  State Veterans Secretary Rocky Chavez of Oceanside competing with legislative aide and ex-school board member Sherry Hodges of Encinitas for the GOP nod to succeed Martin Garrick.

This is a preview of “Preliminary North County Assembly Maps— Rocky Chavez vs. Sherry Hodges on The Coast— Marie Waldron now the Inland District Republican frontrunner”. Read the full post (273 words, 1 image, estimated 1:06 mins reading time).

English Surfer Ben Ellis Does Cardiff (-at-the-sea, Calif.) on his way to enlightenment, or at least San Clemente...

For more from Ben Ellis, check out Surftide/UK at http://www.surftide.co.uk/.

 The kindness of strangers

So I’ve been staying in Cardiff By The Sea for 5 nights now and loving every moment of it. The weather has been perfect, sunny with a cool breeze. Waves have been a mixed bag. But what has topped it all off is the kindness and friendliness of everyone I have met.

After leaving the boys in Vegas I have been travelling solo and camping out of the back of my SUV. I don’t have any blankets, pillows, sleeping bag or anything. So I improvised and have been sleeping in the back of the car in my board sock, fully clothed, using my dirty laundry sack as a pillow. Some may call that RAW camping!

Anyway, yesterday I met a bunch of people who I guess thought I was in need of a little TLC as I have had a tent, sleeping bag, roll mat, beers and firewood all given to me, without me even asking for a thing. Just goes to show, there are a lot of cool people out there!

I’m now in San Clemente staying at the San Mateo State Park and am fully kitted out and you could say I am almost glamping! Might even treat myself to a hot shower tomorrow as I haven’t had a proper wash since last Sunday!

Tonight I’m going downtown in San Clemente to see Mike (another Mike) and having a few beers and some pizza with my new OC crew!

Happy times!

Catching a few at Cardiff By The Sea, CA from Ben Ellis on Vimeo.

 Meeting Shaun Tomson at Cardiff By The Sea

So last night after spending the afternoon surfing at Cardiff By The Sea I headed over the railroad tracks and up into town in search of some food. I decided to pop my head in the Patagonia store on the way and to my surprise there was a little book signing event and presentation by former pro-surfer Shaun Tomson.

Shaun is one of those guys who is inspirational and full of stoke. I had previously bought his book: The Surfer’s Code and loved it. He has just bought out a second edition and I took the opportunity to purchased a signed copy. Whilst I was there I couldn’t resist getting my skateboard signed and also getting a photo with the man himself.

One word, stoked!

Cardiff By the Sea - Ride #1 from Ben Ellis on Vimeo.

Cardiff By the Sea - Ride #2 from Ben Ellis on Vimeo.

San Clemente friends

So I met Mike Morse in the surf back in Cardiff By The Sea a few days back.

After trading waves with him, Ben and Eli for a few days I was invited to come down to San Diego for the weekend for a house party.

Last night I met a bunch of Mike’s friends, all super cool and chilled out. We had a blast having a few beers and some take out food down here in PB.

This morning we all grabbed breakfast and did a little thrift shopping.

Heading back to San Clemente soon and then one last surf and then it’s time to say my goodbyes and I’m driving up to San Francisco for the flight back home tomorrow.

It’s been a great end to an awesome trip and hopefully well keep in touch and get a few more waves in the near future.

Great people and good times all round, you’ve gotta love SolCal.

Lee DeWyze is trending this week. Remember him? Really. Really?

  Lee DeWyze is trending this week. Remember him? Really. Really? Lee DeWyze was last year's winner of American Idol. No kidding. Huh. What. When?

Fame is so fleeting. Cyberspace was abuzz this week with the fallout from last year's American Idol winner either not being invited to take part in the big Wednesday Finale or being asked at the last-minute, and refusing, depending on the source.

DeWhodat was there alright and quite square, according to many sources, including zap2it, reporting Dewyze twitter feeds -- how 2011 -- saying he "was not asked to be involved in the finale. It wasn't until about 2 minutes before they announced that Nigel (Lythgoe, executive producer) had approached me and asked if he could 'borrow' me for a second. I didn't feel a last second jump on stage was right. It was Scotty (McCreery)'s moment."

One year after being No. 1 with a bullet star of America's top-rated TV show, DeWyze already is a where-is-he-now type story. Did he actually release any music last year. Dunno. Where did he tour - New York, Chicago, Los Angeles? Nope, Malaysia.

The DeWyze DeWhodat story raises so many issues on so many levels about American culture and society though. Despite reality show popularity, nobody remembers 99 percent of the cast members as soon as the shows end. Even the winner of the most popular reality game show in America, circa. 2010 is almost unrecognizable a year later, a cyber of an afterthought.

Since this is the case, might not a reasonable person argue reality shows are evil and part of the reason for a general decline in cultural values and social achievement. The reality shows promote narcissism and instant gratification in lieu of principles such as hard work and talent that once were important in America.

Wouldn't America be better off without these abominations, and Americans be better off with, say Shakespeare plays, more cultural, educational and nature programming or other real, non-reality programming.

Lee DeWyze and America's demise

Who is choosing all these reality shows anyway? News flash: Corporate flunkies with no true connection with really real people, and not the Real Wives franchise of their imaginary kind. (Guess the network yes-people greenlight these shows because they are cheap to produce, but at what cost to society and even America's future.)

It also goes to the Idol experience. The namby-pamby non-criticism of judges Steven Tyler, Jennifer Lopez and Randy ??? instead of Simon Cowell's over-the-top honesty meant the voting public had no clue how to vote. So, the best talent went weeks before two country western mediocrities competed for the top spot.

Even DeWyze on his twitter feed figured he needed to do some reminding. The feed proclaims: "American Idol Season 9 Winner!" just to let people know. The twitter feed had 92,717 followers this week, nor exactly mind-numbing figures on a social media outlet where celebrities routinely get hundreds of thousand of followers.

If DeWyze is so easily forgotten, where does that leave country cornball Scott McCreery. Never was Idol's artificial promotion machine so obvious as the propping up of this kid as some sort of heart-throb, usually surrounding him with several clueless teenage girls. Come on man. And since when did American Idol become American Country Idol?

The real question amidst the whatever happened to Lee DeWyze American Idol finale confusion isn't what happened to American Idol, but what happened to America. What do you think?

'Life of John'                                                   I'm Back.

 (Editor's Note: John Hermann is a 41-year-old Rancho Santa Fe resident who has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.)

He uses a ventilator 24/7. View John's complete blog profile or contact him at johnrsf@pacbell.net.

"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."--George Santayana (1863-1952)

 

I'm Back.

I 'm back. It has been a while since I last posted to my blog. I had some more health problems and took a break from blogging. My last two posts (Hospital, A Shocking Visit to the ER) were about my heart problems, and since then the health problems continued.

Last November 23rd, after days of feeling ill and having persistent high fevers, my doctor suggested I go to the emergency room. I am never thrilled to go to the hospital, but I knew that this was necessary. This had been going on too long and it needed to be taken care of.

I decided to go to UCSD/Thornton Hospital in La Jolla. Usually I go to Scripps Memorial Hospital in Encinitas, which is the nearest hospital. But since I had been at the ER in Thornton Hospital earlier in the month for my heart troubles, I thought it would be good to go there.

My nurse, Ernie, drove me down to the ER. At the ER, they did blood work, which usually requires quite a few needle pokes to get blood from me, took a chest x-ray, and started an IV. The x-ray showed pneumonia in my left lung. They started me on a series of strong antibiotics.

But, the pneumonia was just part of my troubles. While in the ER my heart started to act up. I had rapid heart rate and atrial-fibrillation. A few times it converted to a normal rhythm by itself, but a few times they had to use a drug through the IV to convert the heart. They managed to get it under control for a while.

After hours of waiting, I was finally moved to a room in the ICU. I was transferred from the gurney to the much more comfortable hospital bed. The gurneys in hospitals are like concrete slabs. I wonder what sadist invented them. When the respiratory therapist suctioned my trach, my heart started acting up again, and it did it again when the nurses turned me. Through the evening I kept having heart problems. The next two evenings were no different. Finally, after trial and error they found the right heart medication, Fleccanide. and for the rest of my hospital stay, my heart stayed in a normal rhythm. It was a relief to go days without my heart acting up. Now, my only concern was beating the pneumonia. As a person with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy I understand how serious pneumonia can be if it is not under control. It has the potential to be deadly for people like me. In addition, they found fluid around my heart. The only treatment was to let it go away by itself.

Lucky for me, my hospital stay was only five days. Unfortunately I was there for Thanksgiving. It was strange not being home to celebrate with my family. This was the first time I had ever missed a holiday at home. I was feeling down that day. As I was lying in bed, bored and in need of cheer, a women brought a therapy dog into my room. The dog was a friendly golden retriever. The dog jumped up on a chair next to my bed and proceeded to lick my arm. It was like she was telling me that everything would be all right. That simple act made my day and lifted my spirits.

The next evening, my brother Bill surprised me by flying down from San Francisco and showing up at the hospital. That was a nice surprise.

During my stay at hospital , my mom, dad, brother, and sister took turns during the day being with me, and Ernie was there overnight. It is always nice to have someone there because the nurses are busy and can't always be there. Also, I am unable to push the buzzer if I need assistance. The nurses are very appreciative of the extra hands. I found the staff at Thornton Hospital to be pleasant and most had a great bed side manner.

On Monday, November 28, I was discharged. They sent me home on antibiotics. They thought the pneumonia was under control. I went home with the hope that they were correct. But, the fevers continued to plague me. One morning, while Ernie was trach suctioning me, he had trouble clearing the trach, and I was having trouble breathing. Since the ventilator wasn't giving me sufficient breaths, Ernie had to use the ambu bag to force breaths into my lungs. He had my mom call 911. The paramedics arrived and drove me to the ER at Thornton Hospital. They had to bag me the whole way. At the ER they took blood work, chest x-rays and started an IV. They diagnosed pneumonia and started me on IV antibiotics. I would have to be admitted. They had no room at Thornton, so they were going to send me to UCSD Medical Center which is farther away. Instead of going farther south, I decided to be transferred to Scripps Memorial Hospital in Encinitas, which is much closer to home. Scripps is a very good hospital and I have been there many times over the years. I was taken by ambulance up to Scripps Hospital. Once I arrived I had to do more waiting for a room to be made ready for me. After waiting hours there, I was finally taken to a room in the ICU. It's always a relief to get off the gurney.

The last time I was here was in 2006. It was a like a reunion, since many of the same nurses and respiratory therapists that treated me back then were there. I received very good care while I was there, as I did the other times I was there in the past.

I was in the hospital for five days. As usual, my mom. dad, and sister took turns spending time with me during the day, and Ernie stayed the nights. They treated me with IV antibiotics and had to wait and see. I responded well and it seemed like the pneumonia was again under control. On December 23, I was discharged and sent home on antibiotics. It was an early Christmas gift to be home in time to celebrate Christmas with my family.

It seemed like the pneumonia was gone. But, after I had finished ten days of the antibiotics, the fevers returned. I went back to spend two more days in Scripps Hospital and received more antibiotics. They sent me home without antibiotics. At the end of January the fevers returned. I saw the doctor, and he put me on antibiotics for ten days. This last regimen got rid of the last traces of infection and I have been in great health since.

Feeding the Rich RETURNS!!! - Others Say It Better: May 5, 2011...(Tuscaloosa, Ala.)

Eric Parker -- self-portrait

 I am a liar. I said I would continue blogging, but I haven't. I wanted to tell you about John Winthrop's original vision for his Puritan colony in Massachusetts, laid out in his essay "A Model of Christian Charity," the famous "city upon a hill" speech. How God has made some people rich and some poor so that they could honor God by "dispensing his gifts to man by man [rather] than if he did it by his own immediate hands " and "that every man might have need of others . . . [and] be all knit more nearly together in the bonds of brotherly affection."

But the tornado happened in Tuscaloosa last Wednesday. Normal life stopped. And then people acted out Winthrop's vision, especially the part about a community in peril:

 "Question: What rule must we observe and walk by in cause of community in peril?

 "Answer: The same as before, but with more enlargement towards others and less respect towards ourselves and our own right. Hence it was that in the primitive Church they sold all, had all things in common, neither did any man say that which he possessed was his own."

Objects have lost meaning when the cease to exist, so the objects that still do exist feel like they belong to all. Door signs––mi casa es tu casa––become literal. Wallets open to buy others food, toiletries, and, more importantly, drinks to share stories over. "Where were you?" "What did it sound like?" People say "How are you?" and "I'm glad to see you" and mean it. Trivial enmities cease to exist. Some of the haves have become have nots, and the have nots have become have even less. People are screwed. But people are also loving and sharing and helping one another like I've never seen before. It's a beautiful moment. Yet moments, by their very definition, are an indefinitely short period of time. But those who were here, who lived through this storm, will live in this moment for a very long time . . .

I don't think I can put this experience into any more words, but there are those who have done so, well: Brian Oliu, BJ Hollars, Michael Martone, and Wendy Rawlings(you have to know what you had to know what you lost).

(Editor's Note: Longtime local resident Eric Parker, and former Leucadia Pizza delivery driver around Rancho Santa Fe -- hence the blog's name -- was laid off and ran out of unemployment benefits. Talk abut bad timing, he moved to Tuscaloosa, Ala. last year to take an appointment as an English instructor at the University of Alabama. He continues to blog and we continue to follow his posts with great interest as the Fresno State creative writing graduate, and lifetime California resident, seeks to cope with his new life in the Old South. Unfortunately, as we all know, in the midst of spectacular news here and there, the tornado destruction is kind of like, as one man says in the video below, Alabama's Katrina, quickly knocked off the front pages as reconstruction ensues. People around here experienced similar emotions during the October 2007 Witch Creek Fire that thankfully did nit result in the loss of life as at Tuscaloosa and New Orelans.)

BRIEF MESSAGE ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENIN' NOW: State of the state at Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe, Calif. News by Dan Weisman...

EDITOR'S NOTE:

Have no fear, Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News is here!

We will be here for a while y'all.

I have been offered well-paying editing jobs in South Carolina and Northern California the last few months and turned them down despite obvious financial need to stay in our area and keep journalism hope alive.

However, to make ends meet, I have had to take on freelance copywriting jobs. As much as my landlord loves Rancho Santa Fe and Del Dios, he also does not accept ad space in lieu of rent.

This is the only source for legitimate information and journalism about the community and will continue.

In fact, as those who have followed the "war" between the Encinitas Coast News and Gilroy-owned Rancho Santa Fe Review at Carmel Valley know, both print outlets have been hemorrhaging money for years due to poor content, no readership, huge overhead and despicably, poor management. They now have turned against each other with threats of blackmail and litigation in a cat fight to the death.

The point is these two faux outlets will be out of business much sooner than later and Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News will be the only community journalism outlet moving forward.

HOWEVER PART TWO: Quality journalism needs a little,  and a relatively amazingly little, quality funding

Despite some fine advertisers, whose banner and mid-rise ads we proudly display -- patronize them please, people -- these ads alone have not paid the rent.

Many people come up to me on a daily basis and say how much they enjoy Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News and appreciate the effort. Many of these people are millionaires living in amazing estates, driving around very fine vehicles.

Now, if you want to talk about trickle-down economic theory, wake up call. It's not too late, but understand if you want quality to continue, it only takes AS MUCH MONEY AS ONE MEAL AT DELICIAS OR MILLE FLEURS from a few special people to make it so.

Think about your tax break that just passed Congress. Shouldn't you take a tithe of this, or even the smallest part of this, and give back to the community and yourself. If we don't publish it, you won't even know what you don't know.

If you want to continue this amazing experience the way it should unfold, money talks. We can provide quality jobs and content for the community if you help us and through this help yourselves. E-mail 92067freepress@gmail.com to help!

With that said, the tremendous, unique, invitation-only beta test content management system we use is going to change. The founder left the company last year and they have phased out operations. Through my contacts as a fellow at Knight Digital Media Center, University of Southern California, we have an equally exciting, state-of-the-art  CMS lined up and ready to go.

Exporting all of this web site -- and I mean ALL of this site -- and transferring material to the new site will take a period of time. I am estimating it at two weeks, but do not know for sure. So, there will be a brief disruption in information level....

...The fact is this site can continue indefinitely due to low overhead and cutting edge web journalism techniques. But it will take money -- and we're talking maybe $100 a day -- to do all the amazing things for the community that are possible.

It will get done one way or another, but that's the tale of the site through June. We got a lot of stuff here and I will be posting when time allows,  so ENJOY!

'Mr. Sherman' from Surveillance Pelicana, a Web novel in several parts....

(From time to time I guess I'll post portions of a conntinuing online fiction meant to entertain in the Dickensonian manner updated for the 21st Century Interweb. I mean why not, right? Dan W.)

 Act begins stage right. 

A bell rang signifying a change of school periods. The boys entered the third floor classroom.

They sat at wooden chair-desks still excited by the brief freedom afforded in the temporary suspension of school discipline and order. They were impervious, not noticing any particular differences before their twinkling eyes.

Mr. Sherman has drawn a white chalk picture on the blackboard. He sits stage left surrounded, almost obscured, in his chair.

Boys chattered aimlessly until one by one they sensed the need to desist. Mr. Sherman did not have to call them to attention. He psychically willed their motor-mouths to simmering stops.

"Yes. Yes. You are quiet then," Mr. Sherman noted in his strange turn of tone, a kind of cocktail hybrid of geek with a twist of Marine drill sergeant.

"I call your attention to what I have drawn on the blackboard." He pointed with a ruler.

"Consider the weeds I have drawn. The weeds that all of you, myself, and everyone you know, and will know, are mired in, trapped like animals, inextricably bound, unable to escape, unable even to imagine escape."

(Mr. Sherman had a funny way of pronouncing certain words and a masters degree in literature from the University of Michigan to validate his erudition. So, he pronounced Oedipus as Oy-Ay-Di-Puuuus, for example, as the class went Greek from time to time.)

"Oy-Ay-Di-Puuuus is down there." Mr. Sherman pointed to the ground. "Clytemnestra is down there. Your mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers are down there. The smartest person you will ever meet in your life is down there. And yes, even I am down there.

"Now, look above, above up there to the top of the blackboard." Everyone looked over, under, through the blackboard with X-ray visions blurring. Nothing, sorry.

"That is God or what we call God or what others call what they call the ultimate being," Mr. Sherman continued monotone unabated. "The beginning and end of time. That is off the blackboard. No one can see it.

"Now, just beneath the edge of the board, but significantly higher than the weeds is this," continued Mr. Sherman. "Look. Look."

Mr. Sherman had drawn three white clouds set on the blackboard sea. "This is where one person reaches," he said. "One person can find this place, a place above the weeds where the vista is clear."

"He could look down upon the weeds and everyone in the weeds, but there is no need to bother. He does not care what the weeds contain, what the weed persons do with their brief time in the weeds. No. No. Never."

Mr. Sherman's voice rose like a reedy flute, piercing the psychic atmosphere marked by half-listening, barely comprehending 16 year old youths.

"No. He has made it to a place above the weeds and he can never look back. He is up there," Mr. Sherman held a hand up to the cloudy picture, "and all of us are down there," and pointed with the ruler to the weeds.

"You are a dull class," Mr. Sherman said. "In fact, when they gave me your class they warned me these boys care not to learn. They are stupid boys. They only are interested in becoming businessmen, bankers, lawyers, whatever.

"They warned me. Do not waste your time, your energy with boys such as these. They will not benefit. Simply teach them the lesson and wish them good luck on their way to wherever they are going.

"I have seen you boys for nearly a year and I must agree. You are the worst class I have ever taught. You will live your lives and make what you will of them. That is nothing to me. You are stupid boys.

"But I have drawn this picture and wasted my valuable time all these months for a reason. What reason is this I see you ask with your dull eyes. I will tell you.

"While you and I are stuck in the mud, hidden from the higher truth of order by these wretched weeds, unable to get out or climb above; one of you is exempt from this inhumane status of humanity.

"Yes. Yes," Mr. Sherman's thin voice seeming to rise like a fine mist, "look at your classmates. Look to the right and left, behind and in front. One of you is here," and pointing to the blackboard clouds.

"One of you stupid boys is wisest of all, wiser even than me although he does not realize it. One of you is above the weeds. This boy among all of we weed eaters, this boy who does not realize what he is. For this boy, I have done everything.

"I have sweated at night and prepared these many months of lessons even as you did not comprehend them, perhaps never will, or might eventually come to realize a small portion. But this boy above the weeds comprehends, and yes, understands even, understands all I have spoken, perhaps without realizing it as yet.

"I have done everything that I have done for this boy, this one boy who will rise above you, above me. I have told only him about Oy-Ay-Di-Puuuus and Shakespeare's sonnets.

"One boy out of all, and you know what, I will not tell you who he is. You will never hear that from me.

"He might be you," Mr. Sherman pointed at a dull lad. "Or you, or you, or you," pointing at different students.

"You must always wonder who he is. It might be anyone. It might be he who none suspect, none of you even vaguely consider.

"Or it might be you," pointing to Bob Lippman, straight 'A'  honor roll Mensa student. "Or you," pointing to Andy Suchin, the worst 'D' student one planet earth, "or you or you...

"You must always wonder who he is for you are in the weeds. But this special boy will know the higher order that even I can not possibly understand, nor could I should I live an eternity. He knows this intuitively. He knows this without asking.

"I have done all I can to help him. I have devoted myself to him, this secret boy. I will never utter his name. The rest of you are irrelevant. The rest of you are cattle.

"I only hope this person remembers what I said and what I tried to show him. I hope he has pity on me when he remembers my unworthiness. I hope I have been of some small service to him.

"Class dismissed."

Initial shock gave way to boys quickly gathering belongings, throwing them into book bags. They feared Mr. Sherman -- usually a stickler for detail and punctuality -- might change his mind, considering he had dismissed class with 20 minutes remaining on the clock.

Mr. Sherman sinks in his chair scene stopped.

(That was the last lecture Mr. Sherman ever gave the class for he was terminated suddenly, and without public explanation, the next week. Circumstances were unclear although whispers of gay indiscretions refused to die.)

Feeding the Rich RETURNS!!! - The Blog Must Go On: March 4, 2011 

Eric Parker -- self-portrait

My father recently asked me if I was going to post any more blogs, because he'd been checking in day after day and only saw Fashawn sitting there paused in front of the Hollywood sign. "If you're not going to post anymore, then you need to let your readers know," Dad said.

I've been buried in teaching. It's winter. The experiment is over. What else do I have to say? I had all kinds of excuses not to post. But this week I received an interesting message on Facebook. It came from a girl I met at a small rock and roll club six years ago while I was tooling around southern New Zealand alone. (She was beautiful, super cool, and French Canadian.) She and her friend took me in like a vagrant and fed me a homemade pizza and poured me wine while we watched Madagascar. The next day, we tried to hit the beach outside Dunedin, but the buses weren't running. We parted ways after that with a promise I would possibly visit her in Montreal some day. Which never happened.

Anyhow, she sent me a documentary called Carts of Darkness in her message and said it reminded her of me. The video is about homeless and semi-homeless men in North Vancouver who live off of recycleables they take out of neighborhood bins. In their spare time, some of these men bomb the hills of North Vancouver on shopping carts, breaking speeds of 50 mp.h. and sometimes themselves (thank the people of Canada for socialized health care). The movie reminds me of Ted Conover's book Rolling Nowhere, because it isn't about solving the problem of homlessness but the freedom and companionship, as well as the alcoholism, that can be found there. It's about the people who fascinate me the most: outsiders.

I have more posts planned. One will tie in with the early American literature course I'm teaching this semester (I will attempt to out-Glenn Beck Glenn Beck), and I will return to hunting for homeless in Tuscaloosa . . .

Part II Day 264: November 10, 2010 (the samsonite man gets called on his life)

My good friend Jefferson Beavers, who knows me better than anyone, called B.S. on my last post, saying he doesn't buy that I want to settle in Tuscaloosa, and he wants me to get over my idea of having a "normal life" (what is "normal"? he says). Jefferson knows, like the rapper Fashawn from my hometown of Fresno, that I'm a "Samsonite Man" and probably always will be:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Editor's Note: Longtime local resident Eric Parker, and former Leucadia Pizza delivery driver around Rancho Santa Fe -- hence the blog's name -- was laid off, ran out of unemployment benefits and recently relocated to Tuscaloosa, Ala. to take a one-year appointment as an English instructor at the University of Alabama. He continues to blog and we continue to follow his posts with great interest as the Fresno State creative writing graduate, and lifetime California resident, seeks to cope with his new life in the Old South.

Parker is a 36-year-old writer. He received both his B.A. in English and his M.F.A in Creative Writing from Fresno State. He's currently volunteering at various charities to complete his feeding the rich/poor blog, while he works on his manuscripts and looks for a job teaching at a university or community college. Oh, and he paints once every five years. That picture above is a self-portrait, mixed media, 2004.

Visit his blog directly at http://networkedblogs.com/8VcTG.

Time stopped at Santana High School, Santee, Calif. on March 5, 2001 - Student Andy Williams, 15, kills 2, wounds 13...

North County Times photographer Waldo Nilo was driving me around San Marcos looking for stories when we heard news breaking on the radio. A gunman was on the loose at Santana High School, no details available.

We immediately called the North County Times newsroom, saying we wanted to head down there to cover the shooting.

Ever wondered why the North County Times is about one shade better than a middle school newspaper, maybe, on the NCT's best day? Listen to this, then.

Executive editor Kent Davey --  still Peter Principle-ing away there, paradigm of news judgment -- and Teresa then-Hineline, ditto, told us this was a bad idea. Incredulous, we broke off our mission seeking "wild art" and bee-lined to the Escondido newsroom.

Upon returning, we pleaded our case with a sense of urgency knowing this was a story of national significance. Davey and Hineline, though, continued to hold us back, arguing it was a bad idea because Santee wasn't in the North County Times coverage area. They absolutely didn't want us to go.

We persisted until it almost became physical. To his credit, then-business editor John Van Doorn -- who had been a New York Times employee for several years -- interceded. Davey was shaking his head, but finally relented.

That drive south was faster than a speeding bullet. We knew we hadn't a moment to waste.

We hit the ground running at the outdoor shopping mall across the street from Santana High. It was a scene straight out of Libya today. Students, parents, shopkeepers, later police, were strewn across that asphalt parking lot in madcap frenzy.

Amazingly, despite Davey-Hineline's delaying tactics, we were the first San Diego-based journalists on the ground. A reporter from the Los Angeles Times and a CNN crew had made it there as well. That was it.

The 10-year anniversary of San Diego's personal brush with school murder is this Saturday, March 5. It's been controversial as well. Santee Mayor Randy Voepel this week criticized a private memorial at the school scheduled to commemorate the ghastly event.

Grossmount Union High School District, nevertheless, will close the school on Friday for its private memorial. Voepel plans to hold a public service at noon, Saturday at the concrete Santana High School sign fronting the school entrance at North Magnolia Avenue.

For the record, this is my coverage of the incident along with a video interview this week with the San Diego County Sheriff's deputy who took down the shooter, Andy Williams; a video made real-time behind the scenes at ABC News as Peter Jennings and ABC News covered the breaking event; as well as Williams, in his own words, last year.

For the Record, Part II, Davey continued to criticize the newspaper covering an event outside its alleged coverage area and had to be persuaded vigorously, and vehemently, the next day to allow us to return to Santana for the follow-up story.

Of course, I've won more statewide press association awards for local news coverage since leaving that newspaper than the entire staff of the North County Times combined.

And Ah-Ha RSF News has greater web traffic than the North County Times, a 75,000-circulation daily newspaper distributed from Del Mar to Riverside.

But we digress. Shooter Charles Andrew "Andy" Williams turned 25-years-old last month and is serving a 50-years-to-life sentence for the murder of Bryan Zuckor, then-14 years old, and Randy Gordon, 17. Williams also wounded 13 people in the worst school shooting incident since Columbine High School in 1999.

Believe it (or not) Williams has an advocacy website here called "Andy Speaks.".We'll show you a bit more of that distasteful exercise at the end of the story package.

In any event, we take you live and direct back, back, back to a moment frozen in memory and time: Santana High School, March 5, 2001.

-- Dan Weisman 

Santee students describe a scene of fear and disbelief

DAN WEISMAN

Staff Writer

SANTEE ---- Time stopped at 9:22 a.m. Monday at Santana High School.

That's when the alleged gunman, a 15-year-old freshman identified by San Diego County District Attorney Paul Pfingst as Charles Andrew Williams, began randomly shooting students and adults with a .22-caliber revolver.

John Schardt, a junior, stood about 10 yards from Williams, who allegedly was peppering a nearby bathroom with bullets.

"I didn't think about myself," Schardt said. "I didn't think about anything. It was surreal. That's why I had no fear."

Schardt was in a photography class and picked up a video camera as soon as he heard shots ring out in what quickly became a bloody quadrangle just beyond the classroom's glass panes.

"I said it must be fake, ran and grabbed my camera," Schardt said as he stood in the Albertson's Shopping Center parking lot across the street from the high school, a couple of hours after the shootings. "You saw people running, trying to get away from the shooting. I saw one person in a fetal position in the quad who was shot. I viewed the rest through the windows of a classroom."

Tiffany Lynch, a 14-year-old freshman, said she had just emerged from a first-period math class around 9:15 a.m., a class also attended by the alleged shooter.

"He liked to joke around a lot," Lynch said of Williams. "He never seemed serious. He had been talking about having a gun. His friends told him he would never use it and to stop talking about that.

"Pretty soon he started getting serious. They started patting him down (for weapons) every day (at school). They did it today and didn't feel anything."

But, as first period yielded to second period and Lynch, along with Williams, went into the hall, the world turned topsy-turvy along a hallway leading to a bathroom by the small quad.

"I heard the gunshots and people started running over," Lynch said. "I thought it was a joke. Then I saw people running toward the parking lot area."

Zina Ravin, a senior in a nearby classroom, said she heard three gunshots that "sounded like fireworks, and all of a sudden I was scared. I knew Travis Tate (Gallegos) was shot in the head. Everybody started running 100 miles an hour.

"A person was laying in a room near where my brother Allen was," Ravin said. "My dad called and said, 'Find your brother as soon as you can. Stay put and follow instructions.'"

Senior Lori Zarza "saw a couple of kids fall, and after that everybody was going. A kid was running with blood from his mouth. I was hiding behind a lunch cart. I wasn't really scared."

Zarza probably saved her life by moving away from the cart, because at that point, Schardt said, the alleged gunman was "smiling, shooting in a southward direction."

"He was wearing a blue sweat shirt," Schardt said. "He went into and out of a bathroom, fired a couple more shots and started pointing the gun at somebody else. He wasn't aiming at one particular person. He was blind-aiming at people and shot out the lunch cart at the wall. I was 30 feet away, parallel to him."

Students milled around the school parking lot comforting one another hours after the incident. San Diego County sheriff's deputies and a host of chaplains and counselors counseled them between hugs and sobs. An impromptu private counseling area was set aside by authorities inside a nearby Round Table Pizza parlor. No media members were allowed inside.

For most, expressions of grief mixed with disbelief. Schardt said he had "a sick, sick feeling inside when I heard about the people who died. It hits you differently when it is your school."

And for Debbie Howie, it was a hectic, and unexpected, morning interruption from her job at a nearby Kmart as daughter Lori Mason ran away from school down a long, and fearful, block home to call.

"I'm still shook," Howie said. "You don't know what will happen next. The families are picking up the pieces."

Mason cast a wan look at Santana High School's yellow sign proclaiming "G Ball 6 p.m. at Cox Arena; Thur G soccer."

The sign stood amid a chaotic scene of armed authorities and wandering students, parents and school officials.

And in Mason's hand: a small bouquet of yellow flowers.

"These are Santana's color," Mason said quietly. "I'm going to put them by the front sign for the people who died from our school."

Santana High School Shooting 2001

Michael Motorcycle | Myspace Video

 On March 5, 2001, fifteen-year-old Santana High student Charles Andrew Williams began shooting, killing two, and wounding thirteen. Bryan Zuckor, a fellow student, was the first killed, as he and another student were shot in the bathroom where Williams began. Williams then exited the bathroom and headed for the Santana High School quad, where he opened fire on surrounding students and faculty. There, he fatally shot another student, Randy Gordon, and wounded twelve others (ten students and two staff). Williams then returned to the bathroom where he later surrendered to the police.

Personal accounts of the events relate the initial confusion during the incident, describing the sound of the shots as "like firecrackers". Panic followed as people began to realize what was happening. Witnesses also describe Williams as "smiling" during the shooting. Referring to the chaos after the shooting, one parent remarked, "They just don't have a system to handle this." Students and faculty were evacuated to a nearby shopping center, and local businesses and churches helped to handle students and parents. Others also said that they heard him saying, weeks before the shootings, that he was "going to pull a Columbine."

-- Wikipedia

Believe it or not, some people look at Williams in a positive light. A website devoted to him here appears to have kept current through May 2010. This is a sample...

 May 2010

All,

Hey everyone, I know I know, it's been quite a while since I've written the site but I think it's more I've been busy than it's slipped my mind because it does weigh on my mind, the infrequent letters on my part, and I aplologize. All has been well with me. I don't remember when exactly I last wrote but a little under a year ago I transferred prisons again. Happy to be back in Southern California, the trek up to the northern part of the state was definately not a productive one for me. I've learned that we get strength from struggle. So I'm definately stronger for it. I'm a year away from my A.A. degree which seems like I've worked on, off and on, mostly off thruth be told for 7 years. Then onto the next degree I suppose. I'm currently a cook in the prison main kitchen, I consider it a good day if I don't get a steam burn or any type of cuts. I'm hanging in there and truly do appreciate those of you who have hung with me the last 9 + years. Thank you.

Andy

One Degree of "Dr. Strangeglove" -- The Jack Cust Story...

 (Spring training is in full swing for Major League Baseball. We'll be following the season from time to time here, especially as it relates to the dozen, or so, players, and others, with Rancho Santa Fe ties. Bud Black, Trevor Hoffman Mike Sweeney, Mark Loretta, even Dick Enberg, and many others...This is a look at Jack Cust's magic between the white lines...Dan Weisman.)

The ghost of Richard Lee "Dick" Stuart was alive and well the evening of Thursday, May 1 at Angel Stadium of Anaheim on Gene Autrey Way.Many of you weren't born when Stuart, infamously known as Dr. Strangeglove following the Stanley Kubrick 1964 classic of the same name, held court and, oopsy-daisy, drop-kicked balls from 1958 to 1969. 

Stuart didn't just butcher the rawhide. He stewed, filleted, shaked, baked, folded and otherwise mutilated balls with all the aplomb of a blind elephant in a pottery barn.

Shameless on defense, and almost defiantly so, the good-humored -- Thank goodness, for he was a giant -- Stuart's record 29 errors at First Base set while toiling for the Boston Red Sox stands preeminent even today. Frank Litsky's New York Times obituary for Stuart upon his death from cancer at age 66 in 2002 quoted Bobby Bragan calling old Stonehands -- Stuart's pre-strangeglove moniker -- the worst outfielder he ever saw.

 Add quote Litsky: When the public-address announcer at Pirates training camp once told the spectators, ''Anyone who interferes with the ball in play will be ejected from the ballpark,'' Danny Murtaugh, the Pirates' manager at the time, said, ''I hope Stuart doesn't think he means him.''

Oh by the way, Stuart also hit 228 home runs -- pre- pre-steroids. In 1963, when he set the record for errors, he also led the American League in RBI's with 118. This in the modern dead ball era before the mounds were lowered and the hitters designated.

Which brings us full circle to a fatefully unexpected Thursday this side of Los Angeles where the county turns orange. That awful thud. The shameful bounce. A Bugs Bunny cartoon of a fly ball clank clank, you never gonna get that baby back. And the reincarnation of Dick Stuart incarnate, in the form of Jack Cust, Left(out)fielder, Oakland's A's, committing the ultimate honors in anti-defense.

This brought back long lost memories of ye olde Dr. Stonehands Strangeglove. The sheer audacity of Cust's latest blunder, coupled with that loud thud of a sound similar to a cement block dropped about 50 stories to the concrete ground was like a tornado, hurricane, flood, an unnaturally natural event, unforgettably permeating the moment.

That bitter play! Sweet nostalgia. Not heard nor such audacious non-play seen for so many lonely moments and now this.

Give Cust credit for he probably never heard of Stuart. But Lawdy, Miss Clawdy, he did the greatest Dr. Strangeglove impression possible. First, he looked up to see the routine fly ball drift ever so graciously to Left Field. Ever confident -- and nobody looked more confident than Stuart right before each next gaffe -- Cust held up his glove awaiting the expected result.

Hosanna and look out below, the ball fell flush on a closed glove, bounced about 20 yards away and resulted in disaster, Angels flying around the basepaths. What Cust had done was cover his eyes with his glove. He never stood a chance.

But Cust is a playa, if not a fieldah, per se. Almost nonchalantly, he retrieved the ball, missed the cut-off man -- perfect, if this were Superman's Bizarro World, but here not so much -- and eventually departed the field at inning's end. 

Cust's no love for Mr. Glove did Stuart even prouder then. As Stuart often did, Cust went the distance and then some. Made up for it all with a ringing home run sparking an eight-run Fifth Inning that won the A's the game. So imperfect in the damn field, Cust was perfect at the plate going four for four, walking twice and scoring three runs.

I am not too proud to say this: When I focused on the enormity of the effort, the Dr. Strangeglove resurrection in reflection, I got a little misty-eyed.

Somewhere, this side of heaven, maybe a field of dreams at Dyersville, Iowa, Dick "Dr. Strangeglove" Stuart is picking up that image of Jack Cust on the defensive cusp as he kicks and klunks a routine ground ball into a two-base adventure before hitting a game-winning grand slam.

Somewhere, the A's are playing today. And Jack "The New Stonehands" Cust with Dr. Strangeglove as his wingman -- all props to Pharrell and Snoop Dog -- is dropping it like it's hot.

EDITOR'S DESK: Elucidating and repudiating the myths of Ronald Reagan's legacy

Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe News last year published a package, including story, video and photo, about the unveiling of the Reagan Centennial at the Reagan Presidential Library. Link to our story: http://bit.ly/949ywl.

Rancho Santa Fe state Rep. Martin Garrick, also the firmer state Assembly Republican leader, sponsored the assembly bill creating a privately-funded, Reagan Centennial Commission. This group made plans to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the 40th president's birth, which was on Feb. 6, 1911.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger signed the bill with Nancy Reagan and a group of dignitaries on hand. Mr. Garrick, a former Reagan aide, also addressed the group.

The event gave me great pause. A lot of what people were saying, as is their right, I found misstated. As myself, and others, including most historians, attest, much of what has seeped into the public consciousness about Reagan, and his presidency, is political myth rather than historical fact.

In discussing the Reagan years this week, we offered Mr. Garrick the opportunity to present his case, while I presented mine. Mr. Garrick declined, his office citing continued work trying to balance California's $19 billion budget deficit as the reason.

Fair enough, however, here is my take on the Reagan years. As a courtesy, following my column, I've reprinted the remarks Mr. Garrick made addressing the Reagan years at the Reagan Presidential Library.

Enjoy!

-- Editor (that's me) note. Dan Weisman

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ELUCIDATING AND REPUDIATING RONALD REAGAN'S LEGACY

-- Dan Weisman, Ah-Ha Rancho Santa Fe founder/editor

With all due respect, the overblown hype surrounding Ronald Reagan's presidency on the part of Republican stalwarts is long overdue for a much needed reality check and historical correction.

Reagan's legacy of eliminating government and empowering self-interest -- and by extension, greed -- of neglecting the many rungs of society in favor of "trickle-down" chimeras ultimately is what brought America to its current condition, on the mat and greatly in need of a massive makeover.

The so-called "Reagan Revolution" was nothing more than an attempt by those with power and money to keep what they have and get as much more as possible. Obviously, it worked well for them since the disparity of wealth from rich to poor is the greatest in U.S. history since the 1880s, the Gilded Age when excess ruled, and the 1920s, followed as it were by the correction of the Great Depression.

Another great correction is in order. It needs to take place in all aspects of American life, from the externalities of government and the use of power to the very innards of the American soul.

Part of this process is calling out history, placing proper perspective on historical facts rather than political fictions.

One of the biggest fictions of all is this attempt by ultra-conservative partisans to paint the Reagan administration and Reagan years as a time of great achievement and template for society.

Let us examine the actualities and their consequences as we debunk the Reagan mythology that brought us to this moment of economic ruin and foreign adventurism.

Reagan and the cult of personality

Reagan had the force of personality perfect, as it turned out, for the newly emerging age of mass communication where picture trumped platform. Even he joked often about his B-movie career that morphed into leadership of the actor's union and a huge popularity bump as television host.

Reagan's purely political career took off as he prominently supported Richard Nixon in 1960, then very actively campaigned on behalf of Barry Goldwater's 1964 reactionary push-back to equal rights at home and morality in foreign affairs. Those speeches and campaigning on Goldwater's behalf catapulted Reagan to national political prominence.

Running against an unpopular California governor, riding the backlash against the University of California Berkeley free speech movement, as well as minorities and so-called permissive liberals, Reagan won a million vote landslide in 1966.

Fast-forwarding past LBJ and Vietnam, Nixon and Watergate, the Reagan public relations machine emerged as the conservative alternative to progressive thought in the 1970s. But that, in itself, was not enough to get past public perception of him as an actor turned political wannabe with credibility issues.

Reagan very narrowly failed to dislodge Gerald Ford as Republican standard-bearer in 1976, not surprising since Ford had the power of the presidency at his back. But that campaign, followed by the ambiguity and lack of focus of the Carter presidency put Reagan in the catbird's seat for a 1980 presidential run.

Two events in 1979 set the stage for Reagan's ascension to the presidency. Neither had anything to do with his so-called philosophy, personal charisma or political competence.

The Arab oil crisis resulting in massive gasoline shortages, lines and rationing coupled with the storming of the U.S. Embassy in Teheran completely derailed an already shaky Carter administration.

While Reagan can't be implicated in the energy crisis, we now know there was an arms-for-hostages quid pro quo allowing that all-consuming issue to fester during the 1980 presidential campaign, virtually ensuring Reagan's election. He got 51 percent of the vote. The hostages, in fact, were released mere minutes after he took the oath of office, Jan. 20, 1981.

 Lessons of the 1980s

The 1980 election had nothing to do with conservative philosophy or the desire of Americans to dismantle the FDR-JFK-LBJ legacy of a government helping people, working with people to improve their lot. But the American people got the Reagan acolytes and their cynically selective use of government to suit their own purposes, mainly greed and the permanent retention of political power.

The 1980s are widely recognized as an era of excess, Wall Street run amuck, so famously encapsulated in Oliver Stone's Gordon Gecko "greed is good" mantra. In most matters political, the Reaganites talked about government being the problem with private enterprise the solution.

Again in fact, that governmental disdain only went so far. It went as far as the poor and disenfranchised as the Reagan administration curtailed programs costing pennies to aid the unfortunate and downtrodden, even as it spent massive dollars on defense including harebrained missile systems that never worked, but cost billions.

For all their talk about ending government interference in people's lives, the Reaganites sought to use government to enforce their concepts of morality, perhaps best personified by their simplistic, even racist Just Say No drug campaigns targeting minorities.

The Reagan years can be appreciated all the better in retrospect. The Cold War provided an external threat distracting people from internal problems, a sort of sleight-of-political-hand job. Reagan's powerful personality and simplistic world view allowed his minions to overcome potential economic disconnects with working class and middle-class White voters who proved the difference-makers in keeping him in office. Demographics, while changing, continued to favor older, more conservative candidates. The Democratic Party was in disarray.

A 1984 election landslide gave the Reagan "Revolution", rather a counter-revolution, the numbers in Washington to do as they would. They carried on well enough even to elect George Bush, our first, who was, people forget, a fairly unpopular figure at the time. But the Reagan apparatus, dedicated to preserving influence, rode the Reagan name into a figurative third term.

 The Reagan "Tear down this wall" Berlin myth debunked: Reagan to Bush I to what?

We can appreciate now the entire sequence of Reagan-to-Bush I had nothing to do with the proposition government was evil and should get out of people's lives, as hypocritical as was that position. All today agree many people voted for the public, and popular, image of Reaganism, even when it ran counter to their own economic self-interest.

Masters of public relations, in effect turning around the Nixon mistakes with a vision of self-aggrandizement, the Reagan PR machine churned out messages fine-tuned to their target audience, whether, or not, the message had a basis in actuality.

Coincidental with all this, the Soviet Union collapsed. This was a result of decades of internal pressure, and a geopolitical grasp loosened by Pope John Paul II and the Solidarity Movement in Poland that swiftly altered the political equation throughout Eastern Europe. The removal of the imbalance of economic design propping up Sovietism through its Eastern European colonies caused its demise, not Reagan policies.

Perhaps the greatest myth of all about this time period is that the "Bring down this wall" speech given by Reagan at the Berlin Wall on June 12, 1987 somehow was responsible for the wall coming down.

Indeed, the Reagan Presidential Library video promoting the recently instituted privately-funded Reagan Centennial Commission to plan events celebrating the birth of the 40th president, which happened Feb. 6, 1911, showed Reagan's famous speech excerpt followed immediately by video of the Berlin Wall being taken down.

The wall came down more than two years after the speech and the speech had nothing to do with it. In fact, Reagan never saw the wall fall during his presidency.

As every historian acknowledges, and people at the time knew, the wall came down by accident. Bush I famously is documented at the Oval Office, acknowledging later in interviews, being completely surprised by the event, meeting with advisors who didn't know how to respond. They did nothing at the time, fearing any action would damage relations with the Soviet Union, which were improving rapidly due to Gorbachev's policy of Glasnost, or openness.

This is what actually happened: The East German government, due to pressures surrounding the collapse of Soviet-organized Eastern Block governments, as well as internal pressures, decided to allow a trickle of refugees to go to the West.

Many refugees very publicly were escaping through Austria at newly opened Hungarian borders as well as, a bit later, newly opened Czechoslovakian border crossings, and through other means. This created a tremendous public perception problem for the iron-fist government.

Meanwhile, East German public protests fueled by students, emboldened by the example of Chinese students at Tienanmen Square a few months earlier, were gaining traction. Statements by military officials they would shoot protestors in the streets a'la the Chinese military response, created widespread consternation on the part of citizens as well as many government leaders.

East German leaders decided to create an orderly process whereby a few refugees could pass through the Brandenberg Gate to West Berlin.

However, a wild accident of history took place at the news conference announcing the policy. The East German official announcing the policy -- actually, a lower-level press functionary -- took questions from journalists. One journalist asked if this new policy meant East Germans were free to go to the West. Without thinking, the official simply said yes, the wall is open, not repeating the information about the orderly, government-controlled exit plan.

East Germans flocked to the Berlin Wall in incredible numbers as word immediately got out about this amazing statement. Within days, not only did the massive number of people overwhelm border guards, but most guards joined the movement.

The East German goverment effectively had collapsed and the people tore down the wall around Nov. 9, 1989, more than two years after the Reagan speech. Not one person on the ground at that time cited Reagan's speech as a factor in any way.

As historical accidents would have it

However, due to the historical accident of Reagan happening to be president around that time, and the landmark removal of the Berlin Wall, the Reagan-Bush PR machine claimed they had won the Cold War. This extreme fallacy continues to be a pillar in the Reagan and GOP mythology, although most historians know better.

Bush I couldn't overcome his own lack of popularity and lack of achievement in 1992. Bill Clinton brilliantly coupled more traditional Democratic Party advantages in what we now call blue states with a favorite son pull in Southern red states into a powerful win.

While we may continue to argue about Clinton as liberal v. conservative in values, we can not dispute a more natural return to government as a tool to aid people rather than enemy during his terms in office. Clinton's downfall in effectiveness had nothing to do with this philosophy. It had everything to do with issues of morality and Republican Party partisanship, cynically using personal issues to regain their stranglehold on power in order to generate personal or collegial gain.

Which brings us to George W. Bush III. In an America deeply divided by personal politics, not philosophy, Bush lost the popular vote, but won the presidency through the 18th Century device of an overriding electoral college, and a one vote Supreme Court decision.

Bush, the lately, didn't win in the least on a mandate of dismantling government to its very core. But that's who, and what, we got along with a Republican majority in Congress, whose disastrous legacy we now are in the process of possibly unraveling, although yet another arcane rule of law allowing 40-vote filibusters in the U.S. Senate has stalled progress.

And now, the future

The Bush years of government neglect have ended. This horrific group encouraged the seeds of economic greed and ruin, massively debilitating federal debt, public and foreign policy drift, disgrace and tortuous political and personal immorality; not to mention legacy of torture as policy, Katrina, lying the nation into war, spying without authorization on its own citizens, disregard for the rule of law and the U.S. Constitution and, well, a seemingly endless list of malfeasance, misfeasance and whatever other nonfeasance we now know or will discover in time.

The Reagan "government is the problem" mantra was never the sentiment of the American people. Government is an important, overwhelming force that can be a wave lifting up the people when applied with honesty, intelligence and good purpose.

Government is not the problem. It is the grand hope. Just ask our Founding Fathers who gave us a Constitution creating a more perfect union on Sept. 17, 1787. Just  ask Joe Workingman and Jane Workingwoman who desperately need its help today.

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Assembly Republican Leader Martin Garrick 

Prepared Remarks -- Ronald Reagan Centennial Commission Bill Signing Ceremony Wednesday, July 28, 2010:

Thank you Governor.

Mrs. Reagan.  It’s almost surreal for me to be standing here next to you to honor one of my heroes. 

It is truly an honor for me to share the stage with you.

Thank you to everyone at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Foundation and Library for all that you do. 

To all my friends and fellow Reaganites in the audience - we need to get together more often!

I spoke at a graduation ceremony last month for the Army & Navy Academy in my district. 

As I prepared to address a group of cadets and their families, I thought about the first time I heard Ronald Reagan speak in person.

It was at the Marlboro High School graduation in Los Angeles in 1974, the last year he was Governor. 

In this speech, the Great Communicator spoke of the price of freedom in America.  

He spoke of a golden hope for mankind.  And he spoke of American exceptionalism in the face of socialism and communism. 

He reminded the graduating students that his generation had gone from a horse and buggy to the moon! 

He also noted that he, then at the age of 63, had already lived 10 years longer than his life expectancy at birth. This – he joked – was: “a source of aggravation in certain circles…”

Governor Reagan’s speech left quite a mark on me as a young man, then only 21 years old, and on the rest of the audience.  Little did we know at the time just how much this great leader would achieve for our state and our nation in his lifetime.

Six years after this speech, I was fortunate enough to join forces with some of the faces that I see in the crowd today.

It was one of the greatest honors of my life to work on the President’s 1980 campaign, on his White House transition team, and in his Administration.

Today I am deeply honored to be able to play a role in honoring Ronald Reagan’s legacy as a Californian and an American.

As you know, President Reagan was California’s first -- “Movie Star Governor.”  He starred in 53 films during his career.  Now how many have you starred in Governor . . . 30?  I think you have some catching up to do….

But he did more than just conquer Hollywood.

He is the first, and only, person to serve as Governor of California and President of the United States.  He handed over the Horseshoe to Jerry Brown … and took over the Oval Office from Jimmy Carter.  Even though his political opponents set a very low bar… he far exceeded any and all expectations.

President Reagan inherited a country stuck in stagnation, and unleashed the greatest peacetime economic expansion in American history. 

He dared to dream not only of a peaceful end to the Cold War, but also the destruction of the Evil Empire. And he achieved both.  Within a year of leaving office, the Berlin Wall came down . . . and Soviet Communism crumbled.

President Reagan restored pride and power to our military.  He once again made our nation a beacon of hope, freedom and opportunity for all of the world. 

February 6, 2011, will mark the 100^th Anniversary of Ronald Reagan’s birth. 

Assembly Bill 1911, with the Governor’s signature, creates California’s Ronald Reagan Centennial Commission.  It will celebrate and honor one of the most influential Californians and Americans in history.

In keeping with President Reagan’s distrust of big government, we made sure that this bill won’t use taxpayer dollars and won’t grow the bureaucracy!

Just as Ronald Reagan taught the next generation about the greatness of America, 

I look forward to helping to teach future generations about Ronald Reagan’s character, optimism, ideals, and enduring legacy.

This commission – and the celebration of his 100^th birthday – will help us ensure President’s Reagan’s proper role in history.  Thank you very much.

'Thoughts Happen' from Louise Julig: What Chinese Mothers Can't Teach (Dishing on Amy Chua)

What Chinese Mothers Can't Teach

Erin Patrice O'Brien for The Wall Street Journal via online.wsj.com...

It’s worth it to read the entire piece (go ahead, I’ll wait!) but her basic argument is that Chinese mothers (who do not have to be Chinese — it’s the attitude that counts) raise kids who are more successful than Western mothers do because they demand success in academia and music and will use tactics unthinkable to Western parents (threatening, yelling, shaming) to guarantee the desired results. There is no other option but success. She says that this does not harm the child and that Western parents are too concerned with their children liking them.  

Reading it made me feel like a skewered insect, desperately waggling my feelers while being pinned to a styrofoam board. Why? Because I’m afraid she’s right. 

You can argue with the tactics, but you can’t argue with facts, and I’ll admit I’ve wondered why The Smart Asian Kid is not so much of a stereotype as a fact of life, especially when you live in Southern California.

Chua claims Western moms are too soft. “ ... even when Western parents think they're being strict, they usually don't come close to being Chinese mothers,” she writes. “For example, my Western friends who consider themselves strict make their children practice their instruments 30 minutes every day. An hour at most. For a Chinese mother, the first hour is the easy part. It's hours two and three that get tough.” 

I remember an interview with Branford Marsalis, who is definitely not Chinese, but whose parents forced him to practice in the basement for hours on end instead of seeing his friends. He hated it at the time, but now he’s Branford friggin’ Marsalis! 

Chua says Western moms are too concerned with their kids’ psyches, that they have an assumption of frailty, whereas Chinese moms assume their kids are strong and will rise above their draconian methods to succeed with no emotional damage. She says Chinese moms are willing to sacrifice more and that Western moms are content to let their kids be “losers.” 

She calls herself a Tiger Mother, and there’s nothing like calling my parenting into question to make me react like a cavewoman facing a Saber Tooth. I feel angry and defensive, but I’m not willing to go to her lengths to ensure my daughter’s success. I’m also not convinced that such measures don’t come without an emotional cost.  

The Artist’s Way material I’m working through now address the very fruits of this type of upbringing where a child is not allowed to experiment and experience the missteps and mistakes that come with any creative endeavor. If we had insisted our daughter continue with piano, which we let her quit after five years when she seemed to so thoroughly hate it, would she ever have picked up guitar? 

Tiger Mom would likely scoff, but there is one important lesson she’s not teaching, and that is how to fail. How to fail thoroughly and completely and have it not destroy you because your identity is determined not by what you do but by who you are. Failing gracefully and starting over, as many times as it takes — that is my definition of success.

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Twenty years ago John Elway sent me to the Pro Bowl armed with many Sony Watchman TV's...

  (The National Football League today played its Pro Bowl all-star game in Hawai'i. This marks the 20th anniversary of my one, and only, appearance with the NFL all-stars at Aloha Stadium. I'm Tivo'ing the BIG GAME, so don't tell me no stinkin' scores. But this is MY Super Bowl in some respects, and I can thank John Elway for the honor.)

 

John Elway sent me to the Pro Bowl. Guess who is my favorite all-time NFL player.

The Pro Bowl generally is a laid-back affair, past and future, at Aloha Stadium. It features special rules such as no blitzing, no zone defenses, no trick offensive formations.

The games are low-key for a while, that is until the second half when the all-star competitive juices -- not, those kind, lighten up -- kick in and some rules are better honored in their breach than their observance.

But the Pro Bowl is an afterthought as yet, the week before the Super Bowl this year, and in past years the week following the Super Bowl when most everybody has gone football home.

Not for me. The Pro Bowl is mine, baby, all mine, thanks to Elway.

ESPN, 20 years ago, staged a "You Pick the Play -- Quarterback Challenge" contest. For four Sundays in November, viewers of the ESPN game of the week could call a 1-900 number at $5.95 a pop, limited to one call per quarter with the objective of picking the next play a team would run.

ESPN divided the field into sections by yard markers and hash-marks. Plays were assigned point totals. A running play to the right side was one point. A 10-yard pass to the left side was three points. A completed pass of more than 25 yards between the hash marks of the middle of the field had the highest point total. It was five freakin' points.

Under the very fine print section of the rules, ESPN deigned to disclose a toll-free number would be provided if requested. I believe there was some kind of law requiring this. I requested, baby, and I got to work. I studied the offenses of the teams that would appear in the four contest games.

 Elway's Broncos de Denver was one of the teams, and even played in two of the games. It soon became apparent Elway was the guy who was going to punch my golden ticket to Diamond-head. This was the one guy with the arm, desire and ability to max out my point total with long bombs down the middle of the field. I figured he was good for at least one per quarter of any game he played.

So it went and so I went. I missed one the four games for some reason. Guess I had a life beyond football then, can't remember. But basically, I won every quarter of the three games -- two by Elway -- I played. It all came down to that toll-free number and Elway's brain. People didn't much hanker to the $5.95 per call price tag. As an Elway expert, I rode his arm all the way to paradise.

I ended up with eight Sony mini-TV's, a sports video collection, and an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii, and cash, for the Pro Bowl.

Add 2011:

I won two more Sony watchman TV's, too.

However, I was watching one of the Sunday night games with -- believe it or not, one of my 73 Facebook Friends today for random reasons -- Also Aswell. We were watching "Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire".

I told him about the contest.. Being a highly intuitive artist, Also also known as Chuck said if I won a TV during the next quarter, I should give it to him for the sake of karma. So, he got one TV.

Another TV was lost when Bruce, the curator of the Tulane Jazz Archive, and my supervisor, answered the archive phone. (I used several phone numbers as I recall as a safety measure.) He said, no, Dan would never enter a  contest like that. As I tried to yell from the back of the library to give me the damn phone, he hung it up with a grand flourish. Frenemy to the end,  me bad, he said with a wry smile.

I kept two TVs and sold the rest, mainly to Asian immigrants, although to an Iranian native as well. No matter what price I set, or how we negotiated, the final price always seemed to be $150. Guess that was market value.

One time, a scraggy-looking semi-street guy came around with several small kids and his wife in a jalopy of some ragged kind. He said they were living in the car and wanted the mini-TV for entertaiment. Was it true? Dunno, but I just gave him the TV. What the heck, they worked like s*** anyway. Sony only sold the model a few years.)

 

The trip was awesome, of course. I hung out with Japanese girl tourists who gave me strange tasting candy and a...well, PG-rated here. I sat behind the Miami Dolphins offensive line in the stands, amazing them with my play calling expertise as I shouted out each play before it happened.

Morten Andersen, a favorite of mine, one of the top kickers in all-time accuracy, shanked the game-winning field goal. A Dolphin turned around, laughed and advised how he saw Morton partying his arse away the night before at Waikiki.

Ah, good times. ESPN discontinued the contest after that. But Elway earned a fan for life.

'Irrelevance' from David Easa -- HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS...

 (DAVID EASA -- LEFT AT THE 100-MILE HURT RUN THIS MONTH -- IS AN ENCINITAS RESIDENT NOW. FORMERLY OF SOLANA BEACH, CARSLBAD, VISTA, HAWAII AND POINTS EAST -- 14 DIFFERENT PLACES FOR AT LEAST THREE MONTHS OVER 36 YEARS, DAVID IS A MARATHON RUNNER WHO STOPS JUST LONG ENOUGH TO POST AT HIS BLOG  http://daveeasa.blogspot.com)

 

Home means different things to different people, but to each of us, it brings up connotations of safety, comfort and familiarity. Home is often matched with thoughts of family. Interestingly enough, when I think of home, the first place that comes to mind is my dad's house in Manoa, not my primary residence in San Diego. I suppose that is the family angle working its magic.

Ironically, my father's current house is not the one I grew up in either, although I still consider Kailua more of my hometown than Manoa. Since I was born, my father has only lived in three homes which makes it all so simple for him. Counting that first house where I spent the first 2 years of my life, but not counting my college dorms, I have lived in 14 different places for at least 3 months or more over the course of my 36 years. That's a lot of moving!

Three big events occur on my radar in January, and the first was the HURT 100 trail race. I had booked a flight months ago when I entered the lottery, and while I actually made it through the wait list, I decided to pass up the chance to torture myself and crew/pace instead. I did a little recon trip through the course (it's 5 loops which makes it almost sane to do one as a training run/hike/stumble) on Thursday which happened to be the day after a flash flood advisory, and I wondered to myself how things would be on race day.

Following HURT, I returned to San Diego to participate in the Carlsbad marathon and prepare for my annual party. Carlsbad is a special event for me since the 1999 race marks the day I decided I wanted to move to San Diego permanently. I consider Carlsbad my "home" course since I have run it for 12 years now and logged hundreds of miles cycling and running sections of the roads. Our running team also handles pace duty, so it's a must-do event, even if I didn't host the post-party. This year our captain ironically wanted me to pace one of our top superstars, Joey, who was shooting for a trials qualifying 2:46. When fit, 2:46 would take a lot of work from me, and in fact I've only run that fast once before on the course.

On top of all that, I really haven't been doing any focused training, so I expected a meltdown, and sure enough, by mile 17 I got popped off the back of the pack of 3 women. Joey held on to an excellent 2:48 debut and 3rd place which I think is a great step towards making it to the trials. Perhaps I will have to train just to be able to try to pace her sometime in the future. After a short walk break, Morgan caught up to me and between her and Luc who was pacing the half marathon, I got enough motivation to finish the race off.

The annual post-party wound up being a little different than last year, but also very similar. Some of the same faces, some new faces, and a generally large crowd, definitely bigger than last year, which consumed every morsel of food that was available. I chuckled to myself as I saw the disorganized clutter of utensils, napkins, and plates that I had strewn about the space, since I did not have any tables to put food on, and since I'm really not a very polished host.

The back patio was complete with a couch that has recently been replaced, and poached tv off the neighbors since I haven't yet ponied up for the 2nd cable box. Okwaro, one of our top runners, spent most of the day covering the grill and cooking up my chicken, commonly known as Dave's Dirty Yardbird. The keg of stone IPA somehow lasted longer than the food, and Hunter seemed exhausted at the end of the festivities, in part from a few guest dogs who kept him entertained, and in part from all of the stimulus. Carmela cooked a pork loin which she had been talking about doing for months, and it turned out pretty good, not that any of the scavengers really cared that much.

The concept behind this party comes in part from my childhood neighbor's superbowl parties at his house and his mom's house (they owned the entire street at one point, so his family is very well known and all the uncles, aunties, cousins, etc would come over, watch the game, and enjoy the festivities). The other inspiration comes from the Alstons, who would throw a New Year's day party at their Lanikai beach house with 3 huge pots of chilli and would typically include some tackle football on the beach. Those two events taught me the basic skills that are needed to attempt to pull off a large party, and while each year ends up being a bit different, I have to say that I've really enjoyed opening up my home to all of my friends and showing it off, no matter how finished it is or isnt at the time of the party.

Ironically, the only house that I actually own is no longer one I consider my home since I signed a 3 year lease with a young family. It feels strange visiting a property I own and not being able to consider it my home anymore. I do miss it, and the trails nearby, and the joy of single-story dwellings and feeling so cozy, but I definitely prefer the location of the Encinitas house I share with Paul and Trevor to that remote and sleepy house in Vista.

I guess I still don't feel like Encinitas is my home town, but perhaps that will come with time. The year I spent in Solana Beach definitely did not make me comfortable enough to call that town "home" nor the 4 years in Carlsbad or 4 in Vista. I suppose if I create a family, the home we live in and the town that home is located in will take on a new level of significance to me. In the meantime, I've really enjoyed my monthly trips to Hawaii, to spend time working, eating, and co-existing with my father in his space, in his home, on an island that still feels very much like home, even after living elsewhere for the past 18 years.

I suppose that the root of the concept of home to me is based in family, and my family starts with my father. He shares the majority of my strengths and weaknesses, my tendencies, my insanity, and my work ethic. In fact, he is to blame for all of those traits, not only for their genetic components, but for his instructions and examples that were ingrained in me as I grew up. Interestingly enough, my father returns for a high school reunion this year, his 50th, to West Hempstead. I will ask him once he returns how much of a connection he still feels to that location and to the home he grew up in.