Over the past two weeks or so, it's been nothing but rain, rain, rain (yes, Wednesday of this week was halfway decent- still doesn't change the fact that US 101, just south of Seaside (Oregon) was flooded. And things do not look to get better anytime soon.
If anything, Portland may experience deja vu. With this constant rain- some of it heavy- there's a possibility that it'll be a repeat of the flooding that threatened the area 10 years ago. The area is already under a small stream and urban flood warning, and if there are any fireworks this weekend, it'll be courtesy of Moms Nature.
But be rest assured that the weather will get better on Sunday- one week from it.
The rain has an effective way of making one feel a bit miserable. Fortunately for me, I've been working as of late, and that seems to drive those blues away. Unfortunately, however, it's a long weekend (four days), and there's no work. Fortunately...there's a four day weekend and I do have some green (just don't go on a spending spree, D, okay?...).
All I can do is read and brush up on my writing...work on script and story ideas...character development and just plain stay creative. Oh, and continue mapping out those plans for 2006. (And finish the other blog, "2005: The Year in Brief". I'll publish that blog sometime in the next week or two).
CNN.com
ESPN: The Worldwide Leader In Sports Widget
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Still Leaving Portland...And Lars' Christmas Cross
Now that I've gotten the anger out of my system, let me tell you the real reasons I'm leaving Portland, Oregon.
I'm leaving because it's time for me to head in a new direction. I've been wanting to take up filmmaking for quite some time, and I feel that now is the time to head in that direction. This means preparing for the eight-week filmmaking workshop classes at New York Film Academy in New York City, New York, which I'll take in July 2006 (if not sooner). In the meantime, I'll be making Atlanta, Georgia my primary residence. Now this is not to say that I'll abandon Portland completely- I'll visit it from time to time. But I feel that there is nothing left here for myself to stay for (except a big fat lottery check in February, and a few temp jobs, and smaller lottery wins between now and February 20, when I leave Portland for Atlanta).
LARS, GO AHEAD AND PUT UP YOUR CROSS!
A couple weeks ago, talk show host Lars Larson of KXL radio here in Portland, with the backing of Portland area Christian churches, had planned on erecting a Christmas Cross on the southwest corner of Pioneer Courthouse Square (Portland Living Room', as the locals call it...). The cross, to many Christians, symbolize the sacrifice that Jesus made for mankind. He even planned on broadcasting the erection on Monday (December 19, 2005) on both his local and nationally syndicated radio shows.
Now comes word that the cross isn't going up. Ever since Lars made his intention clear to put up the cross, a few entities- mainly people who call themselves 'progressives'- had threatened and even promised- yes, promised!- to vandalize it. Now, I consider myself a 'progressive'- after all, I believe in the separation of church and state; a woman's right to choose; and civil unions (even same sex marriage). But what I do not believe in is denying the right of one man's efforts to just express his views, which is Christmas is the reason for the season, and that Jesus Christ is the main reason that Christmas even exists (something I agree with Lars on). I know that a lot of people are pissed royally over the city's decision not to hold the annual New Years' Eve bash on PCS, but do you fellow progressives have to take it out on Lars Larson's display? I've always thought that 'progressive' meant that while you favor policies that move your ideas forward, that you don't trample on the opposing side's ideas. Agree to disagree. So fucking what that you don't like Lars' Christmas Cross. He's paying out of his own pocket (with some help, of course) to display it.
You guys have a better idea? I'd like to hear them. Otherwise, Lars, put up your cross. (And if anyone decides to vandalize it, just whip out that pistol of yours. That'll change their minds really quick!
I'm leaving because it's time for me to head in a new direction. I've been wanting to take up filmmaking for quite some time, and I feel that now is the time to head in that direction. This means preparing for the eight-week filmmaking workshop classes at New York Film Academy in New York City, New York, which I'll take in July 2006 (if not sooner). In the meantime, I'll be making Atlanta, Georgia my primary residence. Now this is not to say that I'll abandon Portland completely- I'll visit it from time to time. But I feel that there is nothing left here for myself to stay for (except a big fat lottery check in February, and a few temp jobs, and smaller lottery wins between now and February 20, when I leave Portland for Atlanta).
I'll touch base more on my forthcoming move to Atlanta and New York later.
LARS, GO AHEAD AND PUT UP YOUR CROSS!
A couple weeks ago, talk show host Lars Larson of KXL radio here in Portland, with the backing of Portland area Christian churches, had planned on erecting a Christmas Cross on the southwest corner of Pioneer Courthouse Square (Portland Living Room', as the locals call it...). The cross, to many Christians, symbolize the sacrifice that Jesus made for mankind. He even planned on broadcasting the erection on Monday (December 19, 2005) on both his local and nationally syndicated radio shows.
Now comes word that the cross isn't going up. Ever since Lars made his intention clear to put up the cross, a few entities- mainly people who call themselves 'progressives'- had threatened and even promised- yes, promised!- to vandalize it. Now, I consider myself a 'progressive'- after all, I believe in the separation of church and state; a woman's right to choose; and civil unions (even same sex marriage). But what I do not believe in is denying the right of one man's efforts to just express his views, which is Christmas is the reason for the season, and that Jesus Christ is the main reason that Christmas even exists (something I agree with Lars on). I know that a lot of people are pissed royally over the city's decision not to hold the annual New Years' Eve bash on PCS, but do you fellow progressives have to take it out on Lars Larson's display? I've always thought that 'progressive' meant that while you favor policies that move your ideas forward, that you don't trample on the opposing side's ideas. Agree to disagree. So fucking what that you don't like Lars' Christmas Cross. He's paying out of his own pocket (with some help, of course) to display it.
You guys have a better idea? I'd like to hear them. Otherwise, Lars, put up your cross. (And if anyone decides to vandalize it, just whip out that pistol of yours. That'll change their minds really quick!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Shove It, Portland!
After spending a total of six years here in Portland, Oregon- remember, I spent two in New Orleans, Louisiana- I'm calling it quits here.
The atmosphere here in Moscow/Amsterdam on the Willamette has changed, and not for the better. When I first set foot here eight years ago, Portland was a more welcoming place. People helped out one another, were friendlier. You could look like Raggedy Andy and the guy who makes Donald Trump look like a pauper would still speak to you like a human being. The crystal meth and heroin problems weren't so rampant. The Jewish mayor (at the time), Vera Katz acted like she knew what she was doing. In other words, Portland was a paradise for everyone, no matter the socioeconomic or racial situation.
Fast forward eight years later. It's like the Pretenders song "Ohio" (irronically, I'm from that state. Born and raised in the Buckeye state). When I returned from New Orleans two and a half years ago, I've started noticing some things that didn't quite jibe with the Portland I came to eight years ago. I know change is the only constant, but, man, I didn't think change would be so damned drastic. A young lady burned under the Steel Bridge, another shot by police after she decided to play Mario Andretti- and this was just about a month before I returned to the Rose City. Since returning, I've noticed that the heroin and meth problems are now a pandemic. The thing that brought homeless people here from across the country, is now driving city leaders mad (so mad, that they've recently created a "10 Year Plan to End Homelessness". Good luck, guys...). The Pearl District is now the standard to which all Portland neighborhoods now aspire to be. In other words, you would've thought that I've walked smack dab into San Francisco (ironically, I've never been to the Bay Area, but it's a known fact that prices are so high that even Donald Trump, Oprah Winfrey, and Bill Gates can barely afford to live there). A few more black folks have been shot by white police officers. People from California coming into Portland and Oregon forgetting to leave the smog and snobbery behind. It's maddening, folks.
So, it is with great sadness that I must bid farewell, if not totally goodbye, to the city that I've called home for eight years. But in this sadness, there is great joy that I'm returning to a city which I've called home twice, and will once again- this time, for a much longer time.
I'm returning to Atlanta, Georgia.
Back to those nice juicy peaches. Back to true Southern hospitality. Julep trees and julep tea. Southern breakfast, with grits (Mmmmm!) sausage and eggs. Where I can get soul food- collard greens, chitterlings, sweet potato pie (oh, stop it, Darren! I'm hungry enough as it is...). The city where I can go to over 200 Waffle House restaurants 24/7. Back to the city where an African-American such as myself can thrive, and make a life for myself.
Yes, Atlanta has its' own problems- no city is perfect. But Atlanta doesn't have the rampant homelessness Portland has. The racism, however sometimes overt, isn't as bad, in fact, in many cases, you can say that it's barely on the radar there. Now I'm not saying that Portland is a racist place, but racial relations here are barely tolerable as it is. And as for heroin and meth down in Atlanta- virtually nonexistent!
In forthcoming blog entries, I'll talk more on the joys and comforts of living down South.
I may be born a Yankee, but by the grace of God, I'm definitely Southern.
The atmosphere here in Moscow/Amsterdam on the Willamette has changed, and not for the better. When I first set foot here eight years ago, Portland was a more welcoming place. People helped out one another, were friendlier. You could look like Raggedy Andy and the guy who makes Donald Trump look like a pauper would still speak to you like a human being. The crystal meth and heroin problems weren't so rampant. The Jewish mayor (at the time), Vera Katz acted like she knew what she was doing. In other words, Portland was a paradise for everyone, no matter the socioeconomic or racial situation.
Fast forward eight years later. It's like the Pretenders song "Ohio" (irronically, I'm from that state. Born and raised in the Buckeye state). When I returned from New Orleans two and a half years ago, I've started noticing some things that didn't quite jibe with the Portland I came to eight years ago. I know change is the only constant, but, man, I didn't think change would be so damned drastic. A young lady burned under the Steel Bridge, another shot by police after she decided to play Mario Andretti- and this was just about a month before I returned to the Rose City. Since returning, I've noticed that the heroin and meth problems are now a pandemic. The thing that brought homeless people here from across the country, is now driving city leaders mad (so mad, that they've recently created a "10 Year Plan to End Homelessness". Good luck, guys...). The Pearl District is now the standard to which all Portland neighborhoods now aspire to be. In other words, you would've thought that I've walked smack dab into San Francisco (ironically, I've never been to the Bay Area, but it's a known fact that prices are so high that even Donald Trump, Oprah Winfrey, and Bill Gates can barely afford to live there). A few more black folks have been shot by white police officers. People from California coming into Portland and Oregon forgetting to leave the smog and snobbery behind. It's maddening, folks.
So, it is with great sadness that I must bid farewell, if not totally goodbye, to the city that I've called home for eight years. But in this sadness, there is great joy that I'm returning to a city which I've called home twice, and will once again- this time, for a much longer time.
I'm returning to Atlanta, Georgia.
Back to those nice juicy peaches. Back to true Southern hospitality. Julep trees and julep tea. Southern breakfast, with grits (Mmmmm!) sausage and eggs. Where I can get soul food- collard greens, chitterlings, sweet potato pie (oh, stop it, Darren! I'm hungry enough as it is...). The city where I can go to over 200 Waffle House restaurants 24/7. Back to the city where an African-American such as myself can thrive, and make a life for myself.
Yes, Atlanta has its' own problems- no city is perfect. But Atlanta doesn't have the rampant homelessness Portland has. The racism, however sometimes overt, isn't as bad, in fact, in many cases, you can say that it's barely on the radar there. Now I'm not saying that Portland is a racist place, but racial relations here are barely tolerable as it is. And as for heroin and meth down in Atlanta- virtually nonexistent!
In forthcoming blog entries, I'll talk more on the joys and comforts of living down South.
I may be born a Yankee, but by the grace of God, I'm definitely Southern.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Requiem- or Celebration- for Stanley "Tookie" Williams
In about 8 and a half hours from now, Crips co-founder and convicted murder Stanley "Tookie" Williams is scheduled to die by lethal injection at California's San Quentin prison. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger has refused to grant Williams clemency, and the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals (which should be renamed "the Ninth Circus Court of Schemiels") refused to grant him the chance even to have his death sentence commuted to life.
In the opinion of this author, Williams should pay for the crimes he committed- specifically the four murders he committed back in the late 1970s. I'm not saying this just because I happen to be pro-death penalty. I'm saying this because that is my opinion period, and if it so happens to be death by letahal injection, so fucking be it. In essence, Williams is responsible for tens- if not hundreds- of thousands- if not nillions- of casualties caused by his gang, the Crips. Now, I'm not saying that the rival group, the Bloods, are a bunch of eagle scouts- they too should pay for the crimes they've committed- past, present, and future. But Stan Williams should have known better. After all, he could have chosen a different path. He could have been mayor of Los Angeles; police chief...even President of the United States, in lieu of committing atrocities in the streets of :Los Angeles, and subsequently, in communities all across the United States. Gangs and the violence they bring forth is like a cancer that keeps growing. Unfortunately, even as California destroys the main head of the dragon, the aforementioned Stanley "Tookie" Williams, we, as Americans- and likely the world community as well- still must live on hair trigger alert. After all, gang violence isn't confined to just the inner cities and slum areas.
As an African-American, I'm of course saddened that another of my kind will die, but as an American, I'm satisfied that justice has been served here. I think of those casualties- the maimings and deaths of mostly innocent people, and even the not-so-innocent killed at the hands of Williams and his cohorts. What lives they could have led, and in the case of the gang members, the lost opportunities to turn their lives around. No kind of children's book decrying the act of gang violence can ever erase what Tookie Williams and his cohorts have done. If Williams wanted to make a difference, he would have one, relinquished his gang affiliation a long time ago, aand two, even as an inmate at San Quentin, shown remorse for his actions. Apologize for those four murders (and likely more, however undocumented, unproven, or what have you...). But instead, Tookie Williams will die with a needle in his arm. To many, it'll be a meaningful one- justice served. For others, a meaingless death. Perhaps members of the Crips will see Williams as a martyr. Maybe the Bloods will celebrate with weed, a few 40 ounce malt liquors, and Hennessey or Courvosier. Or maybe they'll set aside their weapons for a moment to mourn Williams' loss. I don't know.
All I can do is close out this blog entry with lyrics from the theme from "Baretta"
DrPheelGoodman/YouTube/ABC
Keep Your Eye On the Sparrow
by Dave Grusin & M. Ames, 1975
Performed by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Don't go to bed/with no price on your head
No, no/ Don't do it
Don't do the crime if you can't do the time/ Yeah/ Don't do it
And keep your eye/ on the sparrow
When the going/ gets narrow
Don't do it/ Don't do it
Where can I go where the cold winds don't blow
Now, well, well, well.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Baretta, Copyright 1975, American Broadcasting Companies, Inc.
In the opinion of this author, Williams should pay for the crimes he committed- specifically the four murders he committed back in the late 1970s. I'm not saying this just because I happen to be pro-death penalty. I'm saying this because that is my opinion period, and if it so happens to be death by letahal injection, so fucking be it. In essence, Williams is responsible for tens- if not hundreds- of thousands- if not nillions- of casualties caused by his gang, the Crips. Now, I'm not saying that the rival group, the Bloods, are a bunch of eagle scouts- they too should pay for the crimes they've committed- past, present, and future. But Stan Williams should have known better. After all, he could have chosen a different path. He could have been mayor of Los Angeles; police chief...even President of the United States, in lieu of committing atrocities in the streets of :Los Angeles, and subsequently, in communities all across the United States. Gangs and the violence they bring forth is like a cancer that keeps growing. Unfortunately, even as California destroys the main head of the dragon, the aforementioned Stanley "Tookie" Williams, we, as Americans- and likely the world community as well- still must live on hair trigger alert. After all, gang violence isn't confined to just the inner cities and slum areas.
As an African-American, I'm of course saddened that another of my kind will die, but as an American, I'm satisfied that justice has been served here. I think of those casualties- the maimings and deaths of mostly innocent people, and even the not-so-innocent killed at the hands of Williams and his cohorts. What lives they could have led, and in the case of the gang members, the lost opportunities to turn their lives around. No kind of children's book decrying the act of gang violence can ever erase what Tookie Williams and his cohorts have done. If Williams wanted to make a difference, he would have one, relinquished his gang affiliation a long time ago, aand two, even as an inmate at San Quentin, shown remorse for his actions. Apologize for those four murders (and likely more, however undocumented, unproven, or what have you...). But instead, Tookie Williams will die with a needle in his arm. To many, it'll be a meaningful one- justice served. For others, a meaingless death. Perhaps members of the Crips will see Williams as a martyr. Maybe the Bloods will celebrate with weed, a few 40 ounce malt liquors, and Hennessey or Courvosier. Or maybe they'll set aside their weapons for a moment to mourn Williams' loss. I don't know.
All I can do is close out this blog entry with lyrics from the theme from "Baretta"
DrPheelGoodman/YouTube/ABC
Keep Your Eye On the Sparrow
by Dave Grusin & M. Ames, 1975
Performed by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Don't go to bed/with no price on your head
No, no/ Don't do it
Don't do the crime if you can't do the time/ Yeah/ Don't do it
And keep your eye/ on the sparrow
When the going/ gets narrow
Don't do it/ Don't do it
Where can I go where the cold winds don't blow
Now, well, well, well.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Baretta, Copyright 1975, American Broadcasting Companies, Inc.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Ideas For The Pioneer Courthouse Square New Years' Celebration
Our very smart and intrepid city government of 'Moscow (or in some cases, Amsterdam) on the Willamette', aka Portland, Oregon has decided to can the annual New Year's celebration at Pioneer Courthouse Square (aka Portland's living room).
Remember the last time such a smart idea happened? Can you say "2001: Kristallnacht on the Willamette" (only substitute 'anarchists' as opposed to 'Nazi', and 'every damn thing' as opposed to the Jews who suffered that fateful night in November 1938). I can only hope that the natives- meth-addicted or otherwise- have enough sense to bring in 2006 with a bit more sanity.
So...Taliban Commie, er, Tom Potter, our rookie mayor says that there's no money in the budget to hold such an event, known to be 'family-friendly' by many. Might I offer a few 'family-friendly' suggestions?
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Remember the last time such a smart idea happened? Can you say "2001: Kristallnacht on the Willamette" (only substitute 'anarchists' as opposed to 'Nazi', and 'every damn thing' as opposed to the Jews who suffered that fateful night in November 1938). I can only hope that the natives- meth-addicted or otherwise- have enough sense to bring in 2006 with a bit more sanity.
So...Taliban Commie, er, Tom Potter, our rookie mayor says that there's no money in the budget to hold such an event, known to be 'family-friendly' by many. Might I offer a few 'family-friendly' suggestions?
1.LET PLAYBOY OR MAXIM MAGAZINE- OR MTV SPONSOR THE ANNUAL CELEBRATION:
After all, they have every goddamned thing you need to throw the biggest (or one of the biggest, anyway) soirees of the year: Babes, Booze, and most important, MONEY! LOTS OF IT! Sure we may have to pay a cover charge (say, $10, but no more than $20), and you'll have to get carded at the PCS gates (oh, don't forget the metal detectors and private security...or extra Portland- in addition to Gresham, Beaverton, Milwaukie, and even other jurisdictions- police officers. After all, we don't need any haters crashing the party...). But think of all of the beer, Cristal; Absolut...all of those nude and/or semi nude hotties dancing on that stage (don't worry, girls, the stage will have heaters, and you'll be well protected from that patented Pacific Northwest winter rain). Plus, you have the TriMet MAX and bus service (as well as that of C-Tran, the transit district across the Columbia in Clark County, Washington), all gratis.
2. MOVE THE CELEBRATION TO TOM MCCALL WATERFRONT PARK
Hey, it's a bigger space! Plus those corporations aforementioned can afford it. Plus, you can bring the big acts- Beyonce Knowles (such a fucking pity that Destiny's Child split up...tsk, tsk, tsk...); the Sisters Simpson (Ashlee and the soon-to-be divorced Jessica, the latter who could do a strip tease or two out of those Daisy Dukes. Sorry, Nick, you can't say shit about that anymore...oh, by the way, neither of them can sing...); Mariah Carey (who I'd like to pork any day, any time, any motherfucking place! BRING IT ON, BABY!); and perhaps the harder rock acts too. Hey, even KXL's Lars Larson can emcee the event, alongside PK from "The Playhouse" on KXL's sister station, Jammin' 95.5 KXJM (and the next day, get a frying pan across his big fat head by his beloved Tina. But believe me, Lars, it'll all be well worth it...by the way, Lars, nice fucking idea on the cross on PCS. Will your head- or a papier-machie sculpture of it grace the top of the cross?...). Even better, have the celebration at both places!
Since our so-called liberal oasis decided to pussy themselves out of the party business, these are but two of the best ideas I can come up with (after all, I doubt very seriously that bringing a religious revival to the Square on New Year's Eve will sit well with people wanting the holy wine mixed in with their Absolut...might work in The Dalles, 80 miles to the east, or even Bend, 160 miles to the southeast, however...). If anybody can come up with better ideas, post your comments here, or e-mail me at dwa97209@yahoo.com or thealex03@netscape.net.
HAPPY FUCKING HOLIDAYS! MERRY CHRISTMAS! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR, BABY!
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, December 05, 2005
What's the Big Fuss About Not Saying "Merry Christmas" Anyway?
Happy Holidays!
Merry Chrishannakwanzakuh!
Merry Holidays!
Merry Christmas!
(Darren looks up at the sky. It's still there...and yes, it's still cloudy out there. Remember, he's in the Pacific Northwaest, kids...).
What's the big freakin' deal?
Some pundits-mostly those of the conservative ilk- are griping about stores and other entities not displaying the words "Merry Christmas", and are up in arms when those same entities they're bitching about are calling the Christmas tree a 'Holiday tree'. Excuse me, kids, but isn't a 'Holiday tree' the same thing as a 'Christmas tree'? I tend to think so.
Remember the term 'political correctness', back in the 1990s- basically during the Clinton years (1993-2001)? Well, it sounds like to me that the same people who deride the term 'p.c.' are doing the same damn thing- only, either they don't know that they're playing the 'p.c.' card, or they're just not admitting it. after all, they're crying "They're taking Christ out of 'Christmas'...it's a 'Christmas tree, not a 'Holiday tree'...stores that ban the words "Merry Christmas are to be boycotted... store employees who don't say "Merry Christmas" will immediately be fired". I didn't know that Christmas was under that much threat. Gee, if I didn't know better, I'd say that these people were worried about al-Qaida taking over the holiday (imagine Osama bin Laden wearing a red suit. Now if he would only gain a few pounds, then he'd looklike Santa, as opposed to looking like an anoxeric...).
So, from me to yours, with love, Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Same fucking difference.
Copyright (C)2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Merry Chrishannakwanzakuh!
Merry Holidays!
Merry Christmas!
(Darren looks up at the sky. It's still there...and yes, it's still cloudy out there. Remember, he's in the Pacific Northwaest, kids...).
What's the big freakin' deal?
Some pundits-mostly those of the conservative ilk- are griping about stores and other entities not displaying the words "Merry Christmas", and are up in arms when those same entities they're bitching about are calling the Christmas tree a 'Holiday tree'. Excuse me, kids, but isn't a 'Holiday tree' the same thing as a 'Christmas tree'? I tend to think so.
Remember the term 'political correctness', back in the 1990s- basically during the Clinton years (1993-2001)? Well, it sounds like to me that the same people who deride the term 'p.c.' are doing the same damn thing- only, either they don't know that they're playing the 'p.c.' card, or they're just not admitting it. after all, they're crying "They're taking Christ out of 'Christmas'...it's a 'Christmas tree, not a 'Holiday tree'...stores that ban the words "Merry Christmas are to be boycotted... store employees who don't say "Merry Christmas" will immediately be fired". I didn't know that Christmas was under that much threat. Gee, if I didn't know better, I'd say that these people were worried about al-Qaida taking over the holiday (imagine Osama bin Laden wearing a red suit. Now if he would only gain a few pounds, then he'd looklike Santa, as opposed to looking like an anoxeric...).
Got a problem with me saying "Happy Holidays"? Tough! That's on you.
So, from me to yours, with love, Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Same fucking difference.
Copyright (C)2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Same Goal, New Date
I didn't hit the Oregon Megabucks jackpot last night (one, two, three: Awwwww!). I'm crying in my beer as I write this.
Actually, I've decided to stay the course, and although I didn't hit the prize like I wanted to, and although I didn't yet achieve the goal, I am far from calling it quits. In fact, I have a new date in my sights: January 28, 2006.
That's right! The new goal date for reaching this goal is January 28- that's eight weeks from this Saturday. I'll be the first Oregon Megabucks jackpot winner of 2006, and I could win an upwards of $8.8 Million (this Wednesday night's jackpot is $3.8 Million. And yes, I'll play for this prize...likely, no one will hit this amount. In fact, look for the prize to go up to that $8.8 Million. Then it'll go back to $1 Million, because I have won that $8.8 Million on January 28).
In the meantime, I'm modifying my plans, kind of doing a 'slimming' down of items to get, places to go to. In essence, I'm working on my 2006 plans- which includes, of course, that Megabucks win on January 28. I'll talk more on those plans in a future post.
Actually, I've decided to stay the course, and although I didn't hit the prize like I wanted to, and although I didn't yet achieve the goal, I am far from calling it quits. In fact, I have a new date in my sights: January 28, 2006.
That's right! The new goal date for reaching this goal is January 28- that's eight weeks from this Saturday. I'll be the first Oregon Megabucks jackpot winner of 2006, and I could win an upwards of $8.8 Million (this Wednesday night's jackpot is $3.8 Million. And yes, I'll play for this prize...likely, no one will hit this amount. In fact, look for the prize to go up to that $8.8 Million. Then it'll go back to $1 Million, because I have won that $8.8 Million on January 28).
In the meantime, I'm modifying my plans, kind of doing a 'slimming' down of items to get, places to go to. In essence, I'm working on my 2006 plans- which includes, of course, that Megabucks win on January 28. I'll talk more on those plans in a future post.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Now I Hold My Breath...And My Face is Turning Blue
About a half hour ago, the Oregon Megabucks jackpot drawing took place. And now, I hold my breath.
Seven weeks of preparation- daily visualizations, seeing myself enjoying the money (and mainly tapping on the keys of the Apple PowerBook G4 and iMac G5. Believe it! My days of using library computers are coming to an end...I only have an hour to play with these guys, whereas I have my own computer, you'd have to pry me away from it). And now, all I need is those six magic numbers that changes everything. I already claimed this prize, so I feel that I have won thisprize. The suspense builds...and builds...and builds.
My itineraries are set. I'm leaving Portland, Oregon for Los Angeles and Atlanta- at least for awhile (oh, don't forget the Bay Area, baby...). Get away from those so-called friends who have scorned me forever, but now become my "best friends"(With an entourage like this, who needs enemies?). Plus, I'll have more time to think and relax. And get things ready for 2006- the eight-week filmmmaking classes in Los Angeles (or if I so choose, New York City), which I'll start on May 1, 2006; SXSW in Austin, Texas...and I intend to get into podcasting (any amateur can do this. You know, I just got into blogging just months ago...).
Anyway, back to the main subject, I'll head to Los Angeles this week- Thanksgiving Day. Spend a weekend there, get writing and filmmaking software. Then, I'll fly to Atlanta, relax for about two weeks. Return to Portland to pick up my orders, then head into the Bay Area and spend Christmas and New Years there, also attend Macworld Expo '06 at the Moscone Center in San Francisco.
And, one more thing- another lottery win! January 11, 2006! Just as I attend Macworld.
But for now, I've got to pop the champagne open. There's a lot of celebrating to do.
Seven weeks of preparation- daily visualizations, seeing myself enjoying the money (and mainly tapping on the keys of the Apple PowerBook G4 and iMac G5. Believe it! My days of using library computers are coming to an end...I only have an hour to play with these guys, whereas I have my own computer, you'd have to pry me away from it). And now, all I need is those six magic numbers that changes everything. I already claimed this prize, so I feel that I have won thisprize. The suspense builds...and builds...and builds.
My itineraries are set. I'm leaving Portland, Oregon for Los Angeles and Atlanta- at least for awhile (oh, don't forget the Bay Area, baby...). Get away from those so-called friends who have scorned me forever, but now become my "best friends"(With an entourage like this, who needs enemies?). Plus, I'll have more time to think and relax. And get things ready for 2006- the eight-week filmmmaking classes in Los Angeles (or if I so choose, New York City), which I'll start on May 1, 2006; SXSW in Austin, Texas...and I intend to get into podcasting (any amateur can do this. You know, I just got into blogging just months ago...).
Anyway, back to the main subject, I'll head to Los Angeles this week- Thanksgiving Day. Spend a weekend there, get writing and filmmaking software. Then, I'll fly to Atlanta, relax for about two weeks. Return to Portland to pick up my orders, then head into the Bay Area and spend Christmas and New Years there, also attend Macworld Expo '06 at the Moscone Center in San Francisco.
And, one more thing- another lottery win! January 11, 2006! Just as I attend Macworld.
But for now, I've got to pop the champagne open. There's a lot of celebrating to do.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
I"M IN THE MONEY!
Twenty-four hours from now, I'm one rich puppy!
Twenty-four hours from now, the champagne is popped and poured.
In 24 hours, I'm Oregon's 200th Megabucks millionaire. $3.6 Million- lump sum $1.8 Million; after taxes, $1,206,000.
AND IT'S ALL MINE, BABY!
It's true! I hold the winning Megabucks ticket! Believe it!
As I break from the celebration, it is Sunday night here in the Rose City, and I feel pretty damn good, if you tell me. I'm listening to Adam Curry's Daily Source Code (I'm researching the personalities who podcast. I'm going to get into it in the next year).
So...I'll be back tomorrow night. $3.6 Million richer!
Twenty-four hours from now, the champagne is popped and poured.
In 24 hours, I'm Oregon's 200th Megabucks millionaire. $3.6 Million- lump sum $1.8 Million; after taxes, $1,206,000.
AND IT'S ALL MINE, BABY!
It's true! I hold the winning Megabucks ticket! Believe it!
As I break from the celebration, it is Sunday night here in the Rose City, and I feel pretty damn good, if you tell me. I'm listening to Adam Curry's Daily Source Code (I'm researching the personalities who podcast. I'm going to get into it in the next year).
So...I'll be back tomorrow night. $3.6 Million richer!
Thursday, November 17, 2005
To You Anti-Choice (So-Called Pro-Lifers): SHUT UP!
Every conservative seems to be going ga-ga over the impending nomination of Samuel Alito, to the U.S. Supreme Court. In fact, those fuckos are ecstatic. Drunk intheir own wine of hatred, that they can't seem to get sober anytime soon.
You see, they're hoping that, with Alito's nomination and (if he's lucky) confirmation, that the shift of the U.S. Supreme court to the conservative right will subsequently overrule Roe V. Wade, the landmark 1973 ruling that allows women the right to choose between terminating their pregnancies, and carrying that little snotrag to full term.
Now, I know a lot of you may have heard this argument before, but what if girlfriend gets raped by some psycho? Now picture this same scenario after our Supreme Court wipes away Roe V. Wade. It means that she can't abort the child ( currently, whether she wants to or no, of course, is her choice. That's the beauty of being 'pro-choice'...). I know, it's a bit of paranoia, but that's probably one thing to look forward to if the Roberts court strikes down Roe V. Wade. And how about this: I happen to be African-American (like you care!). Now, I decide to fuck a white (or Latina, or Native American) woman. She finds out that she's preggers. Her parents are kind of too domineering (even as she's over the age of 18...let's say she's 28), and don't want a 'half-nigger' baby in the house. They make the ultimatum: get rid of the baby, or get the fuck! If the Roberts court strike down Roe V. Wade, that Ku Klux Klan or La Raza card holding family is stuck with that child. Talk about having a (pardon le pun) black sheep in the family.
Of course, we all shouldn't get paranoid over the Alito nomination yet. Although Judge Alito has made known his personal opposition to abortion, he knows that Roe V. Wade can't so easily be struck down, even as those jackals at Operation: Rescue (which in my opinion, should read "Operation: Rescue White Children") and Family Research Center are gleefully rubbing their hands like Boris Nogoodnik. I, as a man who believes in the woman's right to choose, am willing to give Alito the benefit of the doubt, and hope that he doesn't plan to strike down Roe V. Wade.
I'll be watching you very closely, Judge Samuel Alito.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
You see, they're hoping that, with Alito's nomination and (if he's lucky) confirmation, that the shift of the U.S. Supreme court to the conservative right will subsequently overrule Roe V. Wade, the landmark 1973 ruling that allows women the right to choose between terminating their pregnancies, and carrying that little snotrag to full term.
Now, I know a lot of you may have heard this argument before, but what if girlfriend gets raped by some psycho? Now picture this same scenario after our Supreme Court wipes away Roe V. Wade. It means that she can't abort the child ( currently, whether she wants to or no, of course, is her choice. That's the beauty of being 'pro-choice'...). I know, it's a bit of paranoia, but that's probably one thing to look forward to if the Roberts court strikes down Roe V. Wade. And how about this: I happen to be African-American (like you care!). Now, I decide to fuck a white (or Latina, or Native American) woman. She finds out that she's preggers. Her parents are kind of too domineering (even as she's over the age of 18...let's say she's 28), and don't want a 'half-nigger' baby in the house. They make the ultimatum: get rid of the baby, or get the fuck! If the Roberts court strike down Roe V. Wade, that Ku Klux Klan or La Raza card holding family is stuck with that child. Talk about having a (pardon le pun) black sheep in the family.
Of course, we all shouldn't get paranoid over the Alito nomination yet. Although Judge Alito has made known his personal opposition to abortion, he knows that Roe V. Wade can't so easily be struck down, even as those jackals at Operation: Rescue (which in my opinion, should read "Operation: Rescue White Children") and Family Research Center are gleefully rubbing their hands like Boris Nogoodnik. I, as a man who believes in the woman's right to choose, am willing to give Alito the benefit of the doubt, and hope that he doesn't plan to strike down Roe V. Wade.
I'll be watching you very closely, Judge Samuel Alito.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, November 14, 2005
The Transfer Begins
HI, my name is Darren W. Alexander, and I am in the process of moving over 110 blogs from a soon-to-be-defunct blog site.
I received the very good news on my e-mail (which is dwa97209@yahoo.com) tonight that the service will be...damn, I've gone into brain lock. Shit!...terminated (that's the word I want) after November 30. If the My Blog Site folks will let me, I will be transferring 111 blogs from there, to this blog site. I will use my login name and password from MyBlogSite.com to get to this blog (so one thing won't change).
One of the reasons why I chose Blogger is because I'll soon be using the journal writing program MacJournal 3.2, and it is compatible with Blogger.com. And of course, in the very near future, I will be doing my blogs on Macintosh computers (as opposed to those monopolistic Windows(R) computers I'm forced to use at the library (the one I had at home decided to crash. If there was a computerized version of crystal meth, I think that old Compaq took a bit too much of it...).
So, I must hurry and archive all the My Blog Site blogs over to this new blog. I'll be pretty busy. Believe it.
I received the very good news on my e-mail (which is dwa97209@yahoo.com) tonight that the service will be...damn, I've gone into brain lock. Shit!...terminated (that's the word I want) after November 30. If the My Blog Site folks will let me, I will be transferring 111 blogs from there, to this blog site. I will use my login name and password from MyBlogSite.com to get to this blog (so one thing won't change).
One of the reasons why I chose Blogger is because I'll soon be using the journal writing program MacJournal 3.2, and it is compatible with Blogger.com. And of course, in the very near future, I will be doing my blogs on Macintosh computers (as opposed to those monopolistic Windows(R) computers I'm forced to use at the library (the one I had at home decided to crash. If there was a computerized version of crystal meth, I think that old Compaq took a bit too much of it...).
So, I must hurry and archive all the My Blog Site blogs over to this new blog. I'll be pretty busy. Believe it.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
You're the Fucking President (Stop Acting Like a 'Bush')
As we all know, the counsel to faux-President George W. Bush, Harriet Miers, has withdrawn her name fron consideration for Associate Justice of the United states. You know, Supreme Court Justice. She caved in from the attacks from both the left and (more viciously) the right wings. Imagine this: someone that both the conservatives and the liberals , Democrats and Republicans (and one Independent) despise. The way I see this, Ms. Miers was a walking case of genital herpes, gonhorrea, and genital warts- all wrapped into one potato that proved to be way too hot.
But my viritol isn't really directed toward Ms. Miers. It's directed at that pansy ass who calls himself the Chief Executive. The same moron who -many believe- stole two elections. The same man who bears the same first and last names as the 41st President (As the saying goes, like father, like son...only son successfully hijacked the election process twice...).
You see, Boy President Bush is trying too damn hard to please the conservative base of his Republican party. He's under the thumb of his (soon-to-be-indicted?) deputy chief of staff Karl Rove (is that a Klan robe you're wearing , Karl?), and he's constantly in bed (symbolically, if not literallly. Laura would kill him- just like she allegedly did 40 years ago, to a boyfriend who decided to split up with her...) with those Coca-Cola Christians who want nothing more than to turn America into the Western equivalent of an Islamic nation. (Only substitute 'Jesus' for 'Allah').
Look, Georgie Porgie. No, LISTEN! YOU'RE THE PRESIDENT! NOT THOSE CONSERVATIVES WHOSE DICKS YOU'RE SUCKING! STOP TRYING TO PLEASE EVERYONE AND BE YOUR OWN MAN! You're still the President. You still run the country (albeit in the ground, but nonetheless, you're still running things...) You should be pimping those conservatives, not vice versa.
Is it 2008 yet? Man, if we get another conservative Republican in office...Lord, help us all.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
But my viritol isn't really directed toward Ms. Miers. It's directed at that pansy ass who calls himself the Chief Executive. The same moron who -many believe- stole two elections. The same man who bears the same first and last names as the 41st President (As the saying goes, like father, like son...only son successfully hijacked the election process twice...).
You see, Boy President Bush is trying too damn hard to please the conservative base of his Republican party. He's under the thumb of his (soon-to-be-indicted?) deputy chief of staff Karl Rove (is that a Klan robe you're wearing , Karl?), and he's constantly in bed (symbolically, if not literallly. Laura would kill him- just like she allegedly did 40 years ago, to a boyfriend who decided to split up with her...) with those Coca-Cola Christians who want nothing more than to turn America into the Western equivalent of an Islamic nation. (Only substitute 'Jesus' for 'Allah').
Look, Georgie Porgie. No, LISTEN! YOU'RE THE PRESIDENT! NOT THOSE CONSERVATIVES WHOSE DICKS YOU'RE SUCKING! STOP TRYING TO PLEASE EVERYONE AND BE YOUR OWN MAN! You're still the President. You still run the country (albeit in the ground, but nonetheless, you're still running things...) You should be pimping those conservatives, not vice versa.
Is it 2008 yet? Man, if we get another conservative Republican in office...Lord, help us all.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, June 13, 2005
How Can 12 Jurors be SO DUMB?
Glanni/YouTube/KCOY-TV, Santa Maria, California
When they said that the Michael Jackson trial would be so emotional, they weren't kidding. Today's verdict has absolutely got me so livid! My blood is bouiiling over this travesty of justice. With all of the evidence tight in front of therm- the 'Jesus Juice' the boy's description of how Jacko moonwalked his hands under the boy's pants...all of this- oh, don't forget Michael's incriminating words on the 2003 special "Living With Michael Jackson". You know, "Sleeping with a child is the most loving thing an adult can do." Might be okay if you're a parent comforting a child from scary monsters (Michael obviously being one of them), but not if you're some strange freak out of some lagoon.
TSCMMJ/YouTube
Come on, people. You had everything in front of you. And you dropped the ball! I could blame Santa Barbara County District Attorney Tom Sneddon, but I can't do that. He didn't have it in for Jacko, believe it or no. So now, I have to hold 12 pairs of feet to the fire. Were you folks that duped by this man's charms? Were you spooked by the faces and seemingly evil looks by the boy's mother? Did her seemingly evil stares that scary that you twelve lost your sense of marbles? Come on, what convinced you dozen of jackasses to let Jacko the pedophile walk and possibly molest another young boy? Can you tell me? Or are you twelve too brainwashed to tell me?
And you, the mother. You slimy no-good stench of a cunt with genital warts! If you would have kept your stares and expressions to yourself, the outcome would have been much different. Perhaps that explais why the jury took seven forevers and a day to deliberate. It's your ugly face that scared them into acquitting this...child molester! Sure, you were trying to convince them to hang Michael with those stares, but you hurt the cause instead of help it. And one more thing: you still must explain why you are so goddamned desperate for money that you have to bamboozle everyone- including the unregistered sex offender, Michael Joe Jackson. I don't get it.
Tonight, while millions of supporters are celebrating and moonwalking over Jacko's acquittal, the rest of us are gnashing and pondering why the justice system has failed in this case? Sure, the fact that Michael has money- probably borrowed from China- may have played a part. And perhaps his celebrity may have also played a part. Celebrity or no, if a person is guilty of a crime, then hang him/her! Don't let them loose!
Michael Jackson may have gotten away scot free this time. But ask yourself this: when the shit happens again- and you can be damn sure that it will. Believe it!- what will you, specifically the supporters of Wacko Jacko?, say then? By acquitting Jackson, they, the jury, may have given him the license to molest again. If that's not an example of injustice, then I don't know what is.
Meanwhile, I'll be looking for a trusted marijuana dealer, and head to Plaid Pantry (a convenience store chain here in the Pacific Northwest), and also head to the liquor store. After all, I have a promise to keep.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, May 16, 2005
I'm Okay With Your Pro-Life License Plate
I don't give a rat's ass about these Coca-Cola Christians displaying their 'Pro-Life' license plates. In fact, I'm fine with it. Display it! Shove it in my face for all I care!
But this also means that I can dispolay my NARAL Pro-Choice license plates. Or my NORML license plate (considering that I live in Oregon, one of the nine states that allow medical marijuana. It sounds like a spiffy idea). If a person who's in NAMBLA (North American Man-Boy Love Association) wants to display a plate with the NAMBLA logo on it, I'm okay with that. Now, for the record, I don't like what NAMBLA does, but neither do I like what white (or black, or Latino) supremacists stand for either. But it's their right and perogative.
The reason why I bring up the subject of license plates is that yesterday in the daily newspaper, The Oregonian (named thereafter Daily Dead Fishwrapper, or DDFW) had an article on license plates. There are three diferent types- the tree with Mt Hood in the background (the standard); Crater Lake; and Cultural Trust. For a new plate to be created, one has to be eliminated. (Note to Salem: get rid of that tree/Mt. Hood one. Or make it more colorful. And while you're at it, put seven characters on the plate...). I have a few suggestions:
1. Have a picture of the late progressive Republican governor Tom McCall, with his hand up, telling people- particualrly that state just to the south of us that shall remain unnamed) not to set foot into our gorgeous state (they screwed up theirs with sky high prices and smog. Keep it down there!). On the plate: "Oregon- Don't Even Visit!"
2. Another is our own Portlandia (our answer to the Statute of Liberty, I guess) smoking a bowl of weed, or shooting up heroin and/or meth. "Oregon- Amsterdam of America"
One that would have worked had that ass backward Measure 36- the measure that basically bans same-sex marriage that passed a year ago- not passed, this plate would have worked: "Oregon- Marriage is Open to All!", with Mount Hood, and gay (two interlinked male symbols) and lesbian (two interlinked female), and opposite sex symbols flowing freely over it.
Those are a few ideas I can come up with.
Can you- particularly in the Beaver state- think of any ideas? I welcome your comments, either here, or at dwa97209@yahoo.com (also thealex03@netscape.net).
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
But this also means that I can dispolay my NARAL Pro-Choice license plates. Or my NORML license plate (considering that I live in Oregon, one of the nine states that allow medical marijuana. It sounds like a spiffy idea). If a person who's in NAMBLA (North American Man-Boy Love Association) wants to display a plate with the NAMBLA logo on it, I'm okay with that. Now, for the record, I don't like what NAMBLA does, but neither do I like what white (or black, or Latino) supremacists stand for either. But it's their right and perogative.
The reason why I bring up the subject of license plates is that yesterday in the daily newspaper, The Oregonian (named thereafter Daily Dead Fishwrapper, or DDFW) had an article on license plates. There are three diferent types- the tree with Mt Hood in the background (the standard); Crater Lake; and Cultural Trust. For a new plate to be created, one has to be eliminated. (Note to Salem: get rid of that tree/Mt. Hood one. Or make it more colorful. And while you're at it, put seven characters on the plate...). I have a few suggestions:
1. Have a picture of the late progressive Republican governor Tom McCall, with his hand up, telling people- particualrly that state just to the south of us that shall remain unnamed) not to set foot into our gorgeous state (they screwed up theirs with sky high prices and smog. Keep it down there!). On the plate: "Oregon- Don't Even Visit!"
2. Another is our own Portlandia (our answer to the Statute of Liberty, I guess) smoking a bowl of weed, or shooting up heroin and/or meth. "Oregon- Amsterdam of America"
One that would have worked had that ass backward Measure 36- the measure that basically bans same-sex marriage that passed a year ago- not passed, this plate would have worked: "Oregon- Marriage is Open to All!", with Mount Hood, and gay (two interlinked male symbols) and lesbian (two interlinked female), and opposite sex symbols flowing freely over it.
Those are a few ideas I can come up with.
Can you- particularly in the Beaver state- think of any ideas? I welcome your comments, either here, or at dwa97209@yahoo.com (also thealex03@netscape.net).
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Empowered By Action
Ever feel more empowered by doing something that you've never done before? Ever feel empowered by something thwet you did before, only you've gotten better, or even learned something new about something you already know? Well, in the past several months, I've done things that I've never done before. I have never driven a pickup truck. That was before I did work picking up used doors from neighboorhoods. The truck was a Ford F250 (late 70s-early 80s. It had two gas tanks, which helped me a lot after stopping in the middle of I-5. I filled the back tank, but unknowingly kept running on fumes of the front...). I never been to writing seminars before the highly successful inaugural Wordstock literary festival at the Oregon Convention Center. I even had the pleasure of meeting the writers of Bull Durham, Ron Shelton and John Norville.
For years, I've always wanted to operate a motion picture camera. I've marveled at the Aaton A-Minima, a minature Super 16mm motion picture camera; the Arriflex 16 and 35mm camera (16SR3; 435; etc). But I have never operated one. That changed today when I attended the "Stop By, Shoot Film" seminar, sponsored by Eastman Kodak.
The A-Minima is easy to use. Yes, I panned the camera a bit as traffic went by on Southwest Jefferson Street. But it was fun. It was empowering, and now I'm feeling even MORE encouraged to stay the course in my goal of taking film and video production classes this- or next- year.
I cannot tell you enough how strengthened I am over this- and the other activities- I've done thus far this year. Only, I can say that having done this, I want to do more. And I will, this year, or the next- in Los Angeles as I get deeper into the production waters, taking both digital film anc video courses. By the time all of this is said and done, I'll be able to say that I'm living out a dream.
Actually, I can say this right now. And I couldn't be more proud of myself.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
For years, I've always wanted to operate a motion picture camera. I've marveled at the Aaton A-Minima, a minature Super 16mm motion picture camera; the Arriflex 16 and 35mm camera (16SR3; 435; etc). But I have never operated one. That changed today when I attended the "Stop By, Shoot Film" seminar, sponsored by Eastman Kodak.
The A-Minima is easy to use. Yes, I panned the camera a bit as traffic went by on Southwest Jefferson Street. But it was fun. It was empowering, and now I'm feeling even MORE encouraged to stay the course in my goal of taking film and video production classes this- or next- year.
I cannot tell you enough how strengthened I am over this- and the other activities- I've done thus far this year. Only, I can say that having done this, I want to do more. And I will, this year, or the next- in Los Angeles as I get deeper into the production waters, taking both digital film anc video courses. By the time all of this is said and done, I'll be able to say that I'm living out a dream.
Actually, I can say this right now. And I couldn't be more proud of myself.
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Panhandlers, Get a Fucking Job (Especially You Younger Ones)!
Panhandling. What's up with that?
Every fucking time I turn around, I see panhandlers. On the city center streets of Portland, Oregon (where I live). On the freeway ramps. If I didn;t know better, I'd say that you'd find them on the steps of the State Capitol in Salem (in fact, I wouldn't at all be surprised if this was true).
You want to know the fucked up thing about this? A lot of these panhandlers- or flaggers, if they're doing their begging on freeway ramps or on the freeway itself- are young kids. Fresh faced. Gorgeous. Bright and intelligent. I wouldn't doubt if some are college graduates, with degrees, summa cum laude...the best that money can buy. They could work for corporations, even run the companies themselves, if they like. Be President, or governor and change the world, make adifference in this country.
So, why, pray tell, are they- particularly the young kids- doing the pity party thing? Why, when I turn around do I see young people, some with dogs and other pets, with signs that read "Need change for food, or "Stranded in Portland"? Or some pregnant looking girl of, say, 18, with a sign that read 'ten months pregnant' (yes, I actually saw this! This girl was pregnant alright- with padding! Verrry interesting...). The really good ones are people holding signs in the middle of the I-84 freeway, in the middle of morning/afternoon rush hour, stating that they need money for that Greyhound or Amtrak ticket to get back home, only to find out that they're here weeks later doing the same damn thing. Likely spent that transportation money on weed, heroin, or meth, if you ask me.
A couple months ago, the alternative weekly, Willamette Week, did an expose on these scam artists. The article referred them as "Million Dollar Beggars". What these jackals do is prey on the sympathetic eyes and ears of Portland, which is known to be one of the most generous cities for the homeless in this country. After all, you get fed several times a day- 7 days a week. People who are well off will, for the most part, make sure you're well taken care of. With generosity like this, why work, even as Oregon's economuy is on the upswing?
But panhandling? It's not an old man's job anymore, is it? Admittedly, some- if not a good number- of these panhandlers and flaggers are dependent on drugs (meth and heroin being the most abused here in Portland) and/or alcohol. But if you think that all of these young kids who do this are dirt poor, think again. Some live in the West Hills and the suburb of Lake Oswego- two very upscale communities. In other words, they beg and flag, then by the end of the day ('shift', etc), they get into that Porsche or BMW, and go home to mommy and daddy. And still, they play 'poor little match kid'. What's wrong with this picture?
The way I see this, if these young flaggers and beggars can make cardboard signs and scam the rest of the city out of their hard earned money, they're able to go out, find work- even if it's day labor- and make something of their lives. There's no reason why these young, intelligent people should be begging or flagging.
To see the article from Portland's Willamette Week, click on the title
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Every fucking time I turn around, I see panhandlers. On the city center streets of Portland, Oregon (where I live). On the freeway ramps. If I didn;t know better, I'd say that you'd find them on the steps of the State Capitol in Salem (in fact, I wouldn't at all be surprised if this was true).
You want to know the fucked up thing about this? A lot of these panhandlers- or flaggers, if they're doing their begging on freeway ramps or on the freeway itself- are young kids. Fresh faced. Gorgeous. Bright and intelligent. I wouldn't doubt if some are college graduates, with degrees, summa cum laude...the best that money can buy. They could work for corporations, even run the companies themselves, if they like. Be President, or governor and change the world, make adifference in this country.
So, why, pray tell, are they- particularly the young kids- doing the pity party thing? Why, when I turn around do I see young people, some with dogs and other pets, with signs that read "Need change for food, or "Stranded in Portland"? Or some pregnant looking girl of, say, 18, with a sign that read 'ten months pregnant' (yes, I actually saw this! This girl was pregnant alright- with padding! Verrry interesting...). The really good ones are people holding signs in the middle of the I-84 freeway, in the middle of morning/afternoon rush hour, stating that they need money for that Greyhound or Amtrak ticket to get back home, only to find out that they're here weeks later doing the same damn thing. Likely spent that transportation money on weed, heroin, or meth, if you ask me.
A couple months ago, the alternative weekly, Willamette Week, did an expose on these scam artists. The article referred them as "Million Dollar Beggars". What these jackals do is prey on the sympathetic eyes and ears of Portland, which is known to be one of the most generous cities for the homeless in this country. After all, you get fed several times a day- 7 days a week. People who are well off will, for the most part, make sure you're well taken care of. With generosity like this, why work, even as Oregon's economuy is on the upswing?
But panhandling? It's not an old man's job anymore, is it? Admittedly, some- if not a good number- of these panhandlers and flaggers are dependent on drugs (meth and heroin being the most abused here in Portland) and/or alcohol. But if you think that all of these young kids who do this are dirt poor, think again. Some live in the West Hills and the suburb of Lake Oswego- two very upscale communities. In other words, they beg and flag, then by the end of the day ('shift', etc), they get into that Porsche or BMW, and go home to mommy and daddy. And still, they play 'poor little match kid'. What's wrong with this picture?
The way I see this, if these young flaggers and beggars can make cardboard signs and scam the rest of the city out of their hard earned money, they're able to go out, find work- even if it's day labor- and make something of their lives. There's no reason why these young, intelligent people should be begging or flagging.
To see the article from Portland's Willamette Week, click on the title
Copyright 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
This Is Not Our Happy (8th) Anniversary
Eight years ago, I made the biggest mistake of mu life.
Leah* and I were married on the 24th floor of the Franklin County, Ohio Courthouse.
Let's go back to thee year before. She threw me out of the house after we had argued. I left behind a job, returned to Atlanta and lived a carefree life of sorts. Spent time in Maiami, with this cute guy named Marc Daniels (his real name; at the time I considered my self bisexual). Everything hunky-dory. Flash forward to April 1997. It was the week that Ellen DeGeneres came out of the closet I was on my way back to my hotel in Whitehall, a Columbus suburb, then had plans to go to the Havana Video Club on North High Street, in the Short North District, to watch "The Puppy Episode" I was making my way back to North High (after finding out that a pastor friend of mine had moved away) when Leah called me (she was visiting one of her sisters). I decided that it wouldn't hurt, but had to make clear that I was on my way to see friends. She offered to take me back to the hotel, only to find that the bitch lied. Instead, she took me back to her house on the central east end of Columbus. We did the nasty (fucked, okay?), then...she proposed. Now picture this scenario, kids. I've just finished fucking my ex-girlfriend (then watch that "Puppy Episode"). We're naked as fucking jaybirds. And she proposes to me.
Can you say 'deer caught in headlights'?
So the next day, we got married.
Those tears I cried that day should have been a harbinger of things to come. What I thought were tears of happiness were actually tears of...A WARNING! Let me keep it short and simple: the honeymoon ended quicker than it began. The demons that plagued our relationship before came back to haunt us. Accusations of me cheating and lying. Myself getting thrown out of the house. I'm tellin' ya, makes for a lovely relationship, doesn't it?
Now, I'll admit that I could have tried harder to make the marriage work But for the record , the cheating accusations were unfounded. Still, around August 15, 1997- a week or two after I had nearly became roadkill on a Columbus street (after, of course, Leah and I had gotten into yet another patented argument), Leah told me "Good-bye, Darren". I threw my hands up and said "Fine". About 36 hours after Leah and myself said our "fuck yous", I left for Cincinnati, Ohio (100 miles down Interstae 71). Three months later, I left for the west coast, and never looked back. To this day, I have never returned to Columbus, and to be honest, despite making numerous of plans to do so, I don't think that I'll ever return to Columbus. Ever. Too much pain (and it's not just with Leah, either.).
The marriage died a quick death. I had learned- the hard way that I wasn't exactly marriage material. And I still believe that- at nearly 38 years of age- I'm not marriage material (but that's another subject for another day). Yes, I'll go for a few long-term relationships, but it may be awhile before I even do that. I'm not exactly the one-woman type (for those who saw the 'bisexual' story above, for the record, I've since became 'straight', or heterosexual. A gradual process, but with no help from those 'ex-gay' ministries, which I think are nothing more than scams, to be honest with you). Seeing different women works for me. Hell, a menage a trois or two...BRING IT ON!
As for tying the knot again...Eh-eh!
*The names- unless otherwise noted- have been changed to protect the identities
Copyright (C) 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Leah* and I were married on the 24th floor of the Franklin County, Ohio Courthouse.
Let's go back to thee year before. She threw me out of the house after we had argued. I left behind a job, returned to Atlanta and lived a carefree life of sorts. Spent time in Maiami, with this cute guy named Marc Daniels (his real name; at the time I considered my self bisexual). Everything hunky-dory. Flash forward to April 1997. It was the week that Ellen DeGeneres came out of the closet I was on my way back to my hotel in Whitehall, a Columbus suburb, then had plans to go to the Havana Video Club on North High Street, in the Short North District, to watch "The Puppy Episode" I was making my way back to North High (after finding out that a pastor friend of mine had moved away) when Leah called me (she was visiting one of her sisters). I decided that it wouldn't hurt, but had to make clear that I was on my way to see friends. She offered to take me back to the hotel, only to find that the bitch lied. Instead, she took me back to her house on the central east end of Columbus. We did the nasty (fucked, okay?), then...she proposed. Now picture this scenario, kids. I've just finished fucking my ex-girlfriend (then watch that "Puppy Episode"). We're naked as fucking jaybirds. And she proposes to me.
Can you say 'deer caught in headlights'?
So the next day, we got married.
Those tears I cried that day should have been a harbinger of things to come. What I thought were tears of happiness were actually tears of...A WARNING! Let me keep it short and simple: the honeymoon ended quicker than it began. The demons that plagued our relationship before came back to haunt us. Accusations of me cheating and lying. Myself getting thrown out of the house. I'm tellin' ya, makes for a lovely relationship, doesn't it?
Now, I'll admit that I could have tried harder to make the marriage work But for the record , the cheating accusations were unfounded. Still, around August 15, 1997- a week or two after I had nearly became roadkill on a Columbus street (after, of course, Leah and I had gotten into yet another patented argument), Leah told me "Good-bye, Darren". I threw my hands up and said "Fine". About 36 hours after Leah and myself said our "fuck yous", I left for Cincinnati, Ohio (100 miles down Interstae 71). Three months later, I left for the west coast, and never looked back. To this day, I have never returned to Columbus, and to be honest, despite making numerous of plans to do so, I don't think that I'll ever return to Columbus. Ever. Too much pain (and it's not just with Leah, either.).
The marriage died a quick death. I had learned- the hard way that I wasn't exactly marriage material. And I still believe that- at nearly 38 years of age- I'm not marriage material (but that's another subject for another day). Yes, I'll go for a few long-term relationships, but it may be awhile before I even do that. I'm not exactly the one-woman type (for those who saw the 'bisexual' story above, for the record, I've since became 'straight', or heterosexual. A gradual process, but with no help from those 'ex-gay' ministries, which I think are nothing more than scams, to be honest with you). Seeing different women works for me. Hell, a menage a trois or two...BRING IT ON!
As for tying the knot again...Eh-eh!
*The names- unless otherwise noted- have been changed to protect the identities
Copyright (C) 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
