- What is it with California cops today? Amend that. What
is it with California kids today? Eat out of one little garbage dumpster
because you're on the road, in Kerouac territory only without the car,
--not living under your single mom's dreary roof but being a MAN and walking
and guaranteed, you know you will take a bust from the cops. So why do
it?
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- Fish one little coke can out of a trash dumpster, to
redeem it, a unit drives up, brakes hard, two cops leap out, pistols pointed;
"it's a BUST!" RECYCLING is illegal! Did you know that? Eat a
bunch of wilted raw carrots out of a dumpster, behind a health food store.
Off to jail! Do not pass go. It's ILLEGAL! Junked wilted carrots! What
is a child running away from the familial roof to do? Wait at the Big Mac
stand until someone throws white bread crusts in the trash, gobble that
just because it's legal? I raised my kids to eat carrots. No flour was
allowed. In any form, not even pasta.
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- I have on my desk a little Cracker Jack prize Sega gismo
that you turn on and a man walks down a narrow bridge. Suddenly, sections
of the bridge give way. The trick is to know when to make him leap so this
precarious traveler lands on something still standing. Very hard to do.
The thing is an inch big piece of junk and it can outplay ME! Well, that's
the system we have. Worthless junk that has become an emotional hazard,
dangerous to our kids and it outplays us!
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- Now I'll be candid. Craziness runs in my family. My great
grand aunt pawned the family silver for Budapest's chocolate. And homelessness
runs in my family lately. My sister's kid started it off, got tired of
his single mother's non-stop nagging for chores being done. Take to the
streets, in contrast, he got sweet silence sleeping in the alleys of Santa
Monica. That's a good thing. Dumb is the kid that doesn't recognize nagging
bad, silence sweet. But what he got instead were strings of cops pulling
up, pistols drawn and repeated busts.
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- Lackadasically, Cousin Winnie Win-Stone as I call him
would tell the Judge yes he'd taken the carrots from the trash, yes he'd
do the time for crime and he'd go to jail for a week, recognizing that
recycling other people's Coke cans was heinous for the homeless. Winnie
would trudge back into court a week later, get his manacles removed and
get out on time served or sometimes judges got irritated, he'd have to
sign up for Community service.
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- My lovely Nephew, who can give a massage that startles,
juice ten vegies into elixir, make flutes out of dry sticks, polish rocks
he finds on desert or beach into smooth gems, THAT Cousin Winnie found
that community service turned out to be days of waking at dawn, paying
more for a bus ride than he ever spent on eating in a week, going to some
church and stuffing envelopes for eight hours, with no alleys nearby for
lunch. White man's way torture. Give Tonto jail.
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- A nation built on Protestant Work Ethic with no side
path for slaggards is not my kind of nation. What ever happened to the
Huck Finns who whittled, chewed meadowstraw, slingshot crows, took chunks
out of cooling pies on window ledges and only occasionally pretended to
work but always in a triumph of grinning, winking one-up-man-ship? That
was a noble American spirit and tradition, once, wasn't it? It was valued,
by the right people. No better man than Mark Twain ever walked God's earth.
Well lemme tell you, whittling is gone with the horse and buggy.
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- As a bewildered mother, watching the best boy whittlers
float away in the current, it's becoming real easy to believe those Internet
Conspiracy Theorists who tell us we're being digested by the machine we
live in, that StepFather Bank has conspired to make 80 hr, two-job work
weeks the norm for Dad and Mom and the teens too --to suck the life out
of us, drain the brain of juice that might froth into spit, revolution
or reform.
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- We're all hardwired into the Monolith. We churn dollars
so this Retrovirus StepFather Bank can cannibalize its own cogs. Somewhere
in the belly of the machine, we run in circles like panting hamsters so
at the end of a chute, a guy in a Limo can pull up to the Ritz, wolf ten
desserts with his latest mistress, steal the value out of the corporation
and give a Corporate Ball with togas and roses for cronies who eat crab,
caviar, filet mignon, chocolate souflee and wash it down with Rothschild
red.
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- Not only our blood and sweat goes into that machine,
to make the wine flow red but our children do too. ANY kid who tries to
escape and eat out of garbage pails, as an act of civil disobedience, or
recycle trash, or eat it, will pay with the nomenclature of felon, jailbird,
record, package, criminal, dunce.
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- My own child now wanders, without car, without plastic,
without roof, fleeing the State of California. He mistook a few girlish,
third world smiles for something personal, fell in love with a Baja California
girl, walked back to Baja, got turned down but kept walking. Now he languishes
in a Federal Prison called OJOS NEGROS. Well named. That's what got him
down there in the first place. Her black eyes.
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- Like Jesus, my baby wandered the desert on foot, friendless,
homeless for 40 days under baking September then October sun. Dizzied,
undernourished, he committed the mistake --the unpardonable atrocity of
falling asleep in a boat at Ensenada harbor. The tide rose and fell, he
dozed on. He woke to find a dozen federales with guns pointed at him. They
smiled gummy silver smiles, they had a gringo! But chinga su madre! No
wallet, no I.D. No PLASTIC!
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- Cops in Baja like their helpless Gringo prisoners to
have plastic. When they got the beautiful Dawn Wilson, she had a fat VISA
card. It took them a week to reduce it to rubble, four thousand bucks later
they couldn't let her go free to complain so she's been in their prison
for six months, serving a 5 year term for a bottle of pills bought legally
at a pharmacy. Go to http://www.dawnwilson.com and read about it.
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- My baby son had no pills, no plastic on him. So they
accused him of boat theft and moved on to exploiting his mother. The deal
is, I give them two thousand U.S. dollars, they give me the kid back. So
I'm filling out this HUMAN rights complaint I found online, originally
in Spanish. I put it thru the automatic translator and found that Baja
California means LOW California. Well, I knew that! I live in HIGH California
and it's just as Low. Only they take reputations, lives, precious whittling
hours not your credit cards.
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- What is it with the two Californias today? Can any of
us mothers have our kids back from the cement floors of jails where they
languish? Can the California retrovirus system ever stop digesting its
own?
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- http://home.earthlink.net/~astrology/ransom.htm
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