Showing posts with label rising poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rising poverty. Show all posts

Friday, September 4, 2015

The Message

 

The Message
By Grandmaster Flash
& the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash


It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

Broken glass everywhere
People pissin' on the stairs, you know they just don't care
I can't take the smell, can't take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away but I couldn't get far
Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car

[Chorus]

Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

Standin' on the front stoop hangin' out the window
Watchin' all the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin' in a bag
Eatin' outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she'll dance the tango, skip the light fandango
A Zircon princess seemed to lost her senses
Down at the peep show watchin' all the creeps
So she can tell her stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so so seditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own


[Chorus]


It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

My brother's doin' bad, stole my mother's TV
Says she watches too much, it's just not healthy
All My Children in the daytime, Dallas at night
Can't even see the game or the Sugar Ray fight
The bill collectors, they ring my phone
And scare my wife when I'm not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Can't take the train to the job, there's a strike at the station
Neon King Kong standin' on my back
Can't stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I'm goin' insane
I swear I might hijack a plane!

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

My son said, Daddy, I don't wanna go to school
Cause the teacher's a jerk, he must think I'm a fool
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think it'd be cheaper
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
Or dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
Cause it's all about money, ain't a damn thing funny
You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey
They pushed that girl in front of the train
Took her to the doctor, sewed her arm on again
Stabbed that man right in his heart
Gave him a transplant for a brand new start
I can't walk through the park cause it's crazy after dark
Keep my hand on my gun cause they got me on the run
I feel like a outlaw, broke my last glass jaw
Hear them say "You want some more?"
Livin' on a see-saw

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

A child is born with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smilin' on you but he's frownin' too
Because only God knows what you'll go through
You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate
And your eyes will sing a song called deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alleyway



You'll admire all the number-book takers
Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers
Drivin' big cars, spendin' twenties and tens
And you'll wanna grow up to be just like them, huh
Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers
Pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers
You say I'm cool, huh, I'm no fool
But then you wind up droppin' outta high school


Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd
Turned stick-up kid, but look what you done did
Got sent up for a eight-year bid
Now your manhood is took and you're a Maytag
Spend the next two years as a undercover fag
Bein' used and abused to serve like hell
Til one day, you was found hung dead in the cell


It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad, sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young... so


[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under...

--The Squawker

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

A Rising Tide Swamps All Ships: Michigan Kills The Earned Income Tax Credit


Trickle down economics is a scam, plain and sample. Like so many pet projects pushed by the ultra-right and its shadowy denizens -- the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), the Mackinac Center for Public Policy, and other Orwellian-sounding entities like them -- the premise never adds up. Over and over, we're told that if the upper classes were left to stash away as much as they wish, that money will float back down to those on the bottom...which is where you hear those same tired slogans, over and over. A rising tide lifts all boats. Not a hand out, but a hand up. And so on, and so forth.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

For the most part, the jobs never materialize, and those that do are typically of the low-wage, no-benefit, no-future variety. The tax breaks handed out left and right to businesses wind up as great going-away presents -- either when the management takes the enterprise offshore, or simply goes belly up, leaving the taxpayers stuck with the what-do-we-with-that-big-empty-white-elephant-now tab. And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Then again, it's not really about results, it's about shoving an ideology down everybody else's throat -- common sense be damned, objective review be damned, public opinion be damned. What else explains the Republican drive in Michigan to kill off the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) -- and justify it as part of a road funding package?  That's what happened earlier this month, when the Republican-led Senate put the icing -- or, should I say, the mayonnaise -- on top of the cake. And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Senate version also includes a 15-cent increase in the gas tax, another regressive tax that those with modest means don't get to vote on -- and, in a commuter state where driving extended distances to work is the norm, will hit their pockets hard, too. Not to worry, though, because the Senate version includes a state income tax -- although only if the percentage increase from the previous fiscal year's general fund revenues exceeds a positive inflation rate. This "shift and shaft" approach is the hallmark of the Snyder era: "Businesses pay less, you pay more." And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse repeat.

As the Detroit Free Press noted in its editorial (see below), one interesting aspect of the drive against the EITC is that its prime movers -- such as State Representative Jeff Farrington, for instance, of Macomb County, where 17.9 percent of its children still live in poverty. You can ead the nitty-gritty details for yourself below -- instead of me rehashing them here -- but, as the Free Press rightly suggests, whatever logic motivates these votes, "it's not concern for the constituents whose interests they're meant to represent. It's the noxious partisan principle that poverty is deserved, and that the impoverished require neither a hand up nor much compassion."  And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And, like most bills that Governor Rick Synder's zealous cohorts pass left and right, it's fair to say the average person isn't paying attention right now. The sticker shock will land next year with a hollow thud on the kitchen table, when folks realize that -- all of a sudden -- they'll owe  the state more than they're used to paying. In fairness, I'll note that Michigan's version of the EITC was much smaller than Uncle Sam's -- but, for people who are struggling, every little bit helps...until, of course, someone yanks the rug from under your feet. And so on, and so forthWash, rinse, repeat.

Don't think they'll return any money that you might accidentally leave on their table, either. At one time, The Squawker and I owed two years of state taxes, plus three years of federal -- until we were able to sign up for a voluntary tax preparer's help through the United Way, and learned (to our chagrin) that we could get a renter's credit to make Michigan's IOUs go away. It'll be interesting to see what happens next year, but you can bet on one other thing...with 40 percent of Michigan's residents still living in poverty, or stuck in jobs that don't cover basic needs, you won't hear a peep about this subject from the Republican zealots...or ALEC...or the Mackinac Center...or any of their shadowy ilk.

Like Erich Honecker in his twilight years, they'll shake their fists and chant, "Stay the course! Stay the course!" Only, instead of Honecker's fuzzy-minded brand of "consumer socialism" --one that required massive loans from the West to prop up his so-called German Democratic Republic -- we'll get served something far more insidious: socialism for Big Business. But, if you feel like calling them out, it might be fun to ask, "Where are the results?" Then wait for the sounds of crickets.  And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat. --The Reckoner
Links To Go (Hurry, Before Your Tax Tab Skyrockets):
Detroit Free Press
Mich. Senate Road Plan May Be Worse Than You Think:
http://www.freep.com/story/opinion/editorials/2015/07/01/michigan-roads-plan/29543977/



MLive.com:
Michigan Can Improve The Economy
By Cutting Taxes For 95% For The People:
http://www.mlive.com/lansing-news/index.ssf/2015/05/graduated_income_tax_michigan.html

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Too Tough To Die: An Homage


Now that the sands of 2014 have run through the proverbial hourglass, I'd be remiss if I didn't celebrate one of my all-time favorite albums: Too Tough To Die, released in October 1984 -- often regarded as the last truly great record that The Ramones would make. I just pulled it out again this week, having been laid low by gout -- and I'm not making a huge impact on the eBay world (see the entry below, "Too Much Pressure," for specifics). To date, I've only pulled in $15, so I guess I'll have to redirect my talents elsewhere -- we'll see once I'm feeling better.

What makes Too Tough To Die an essential record? Start with the circumstances behind its creation. The pop experiments of End Of The Century (1980) and Pleasant Dreams (1981) -- which featured production input from Phil Spector and Graham Gouldman, respectively -- hadn't worked. Mainstream radio play appeared remote, with the likes of Journey, Styx and Foreigner seemingly poised to occupy a lifetime position there -- a painful irony for a band that prided itself on its pop smarts.

Between November 1981 and February 1985, the Ramones had also abandoned touring internationally -- aside from a few forays to Canada, according to Everett True's cracking bio, Hey Ho Let's Go.  Having been the toast of the UK punk scene in 1976, the Ramones -- or, more likely, their management -- apparently decided that such excursions no longer made sense without the rabid enthusiasm to support them. What's more, the scene had moved on from its sped-up Mod/garage rock origins to hardcore's warp factor speed...so who needed the Ramones?



As the cliche goes, however, you often do your finest work with your back against the wall. Determined to recapture their signature intensity, the Ramones brought back their old creative team of their former drummer, Tommy Ramone (nee Erdelyi) -- who'd moved into production -- and Ed Stasium.  "It was a different atmosphere than before," Tommy stated in Hey Ho Let's Go. "Of course, I would have preferred they all loved each other, but they thought what they were doing was important."

Indeed it was. The 1984-era Ramones revealed themselves as darker, grittier and even ready to tread into social commentary, too. "Mama's Boy" opening two-minute blast sets the tone: "Couldn't hold your tongue, you were just too young/Like a two-year-old, you told, you told/You were all the same, jellybean brain/Everyone's a secret nerd, everyone's a closet lame."

In my view, Too Tough To Die succeeds due to its no-frills production and the Ramones' willingness to play off each others' individual strengths, yet still work as a unit. Bassist Dee Dee Ramone, fresh from kicking heroin, wrote or co-wrote nine of the 13 tracks, which gave the album a cohesive sound. As a lyric writer, he also revealed a more thoughtful, reflective side than previously associated with him.

A good example is the album's second track, "I'm Not Afraid Of Life," which swirls around a droning E chord that anchors its melody -- and somber mood.  The lyrics blend pointed social commentary ("But I see a street crazy shivering with cold/Is it a crime to be old?") with an introspection that seems unbearably poignant after Dee Dee's drug overdose death in 2002 ("There's nothing to gain, a life goes down the drain/I don't want to die at an early age").

The thumping midtempo title track -- another solo Dee Dee effort -- offers a lovably two-fisted salute to the band's critics ("At the concert when the band comes on/I'm in the ring where I belong/On my last leg, just gettin' by/Halo around my head read, too tough to die"). In this case, life mirrored art, as guitarist Johnny Ramone had sustained a skill fracture after getting into a street brawl with another musician. Either way, the song served notice that the band hadn't lost its determination...and cutting corners wasn't on the agenda.

Dee Dee and Johnny, who hadn't been hitting it off, joined forces on three songs. "Danger Zone" sketches a pointed snapshot of inner-city decay in just over two minutes ("New York City is a real cool town/Society really brings me down/Our playground is a pharmacy/Kids find trouble so easily"). The guitar solo from ex-Heartbreaker Walter Lure -- which is simple and to the point, like everything else here -- aptly caps off the mood.

However, Dee Dee and Johnny outdid themselves on the album's hardcore tracks, "Wart Hog," and "Endless Vacation." Both songs clatter and rumble with an intensity that's awe-inspiring and downright frightening. Dee Dee's lyrics provide a harrowing glimpse of the drug addict's world, from the physical price 
("Wart Hog": "I wanna puke, I can't still/Just took some dope and I feel ill/It's a sick world, sick, sick, sick/It's a hopeless life, I hate it, hate it") to the mental one ("Endless Vacation: "All depressed, all alone/I drift into the danger zone/Hair trigger temper, tormented mind/Deadly spitting cobra, I'm the losing kind"). Even now, it's hard to think of a comparable track that matches either of them in ferocity or velocity.

I feel the same way about "Planet Earth 1988," another solo, midtempo Dee Dee effort that paints a bleak, unsparing portrait of a world truly gone mad over a dark, droning D-chord riff, Joey runs down a laundry list of social ills that seem as relevant as ever today ("Death, destruction and bombs galore/The rich are laughing at the poor/Our jails are filled to the max/Discrimination against the blacks"). In case the memo hasn't crossed your desk, the chorus helps to drive the point home: "Planet Earth 1988/It's too late, it's too late, it's too late!"



(Swedish picture sleeve with exclusive remix and cover:
www.vinylonthenet.com)

While Too Tough To Die makes an effective showcase for Dee Dee's songwriting, it's not his show completely. Johnny's stripped-down, six-string minimalism keeps the album grounded -- for further reference, check out his mile-a-minute chunk-a-chunk-chunk on the band's sole instrumental "Durango 95" (which soon became the set opener).  As Johnny often reminded interviewers, anything that he wrote happened with Dee Dee. However, the other Ramones make their presence felt in equally valuable ways. 

Drummer Richie Ramone only gets one songwriting credit here ("Humankind") but it's an impressive one -- powered by a chugging riff that lashes out against other people's foibles and annoyances 
("Humankind, it's a test/to see who's the very best/Humankind, I don't know why/No one cares who lives or dies"). This track stands among an impressive handful (like "I Know Better Now," for instance) that hold their own in the Ramones back catalog. Richie's animosity-fueled exit in 1987, after only four years, makes it easy to forget that he was the band's fastest, most powerful drummer -- who proved equally adept at keeping the beat, and staying out of the way -- or slamming down the hammer when the song required it.

By contrast, Joey managed only three songs this time around. The likely explanation is his non-participation in the pre-production stage, when bands start gathering riffs and ideas -- which he unfortunately missed, for health reasons. 
Hey Ho Let's Go asserts that this situation marked a personal low point for Joey, but I'm not buying that idea -- as any listener will tell you, quality beats quantity every time. 

Two songs are collaborations. "Chasing The Night" is a three-way split between Joey, Dee Dee and bassist Busta "Cherry" Jones -- which hails the raver's desire to keep those juices flowing, no matter what the bankbook or the clock says. I'll go out on a limb and suggest that Joey's contribution is on the lyrical side -- it's hard to imagine Dee Dee singing, "Feelin' hot, yeah, I'm on fire/I'm never, ever goin' to tire!", or the sentiments uncorked in the last verse, "City is overloading/The circuits are exploding/Ain't comin' down, no, I'm too wired." 

So I'll assume that Busta Jones and Dee composed the riff on "Chasing The Night," which is built around the holy trinity of G, C and D. Rchie's drumming is particularly fine here, too -- his propulsive, relentless backbeat provides the perfect match for the subject. (Guess what?  My hunch is largely correct: going through my scrapbooks this afternoon, I just found a 12/29/84 Maximum Rock 'N' Roll interview with Donny the Punk, in which Joey says: "Actually, me and Busta Jones got together a few years ago, he brought some music and DeeDee sat together with him and we worked, kind of put the song together.  He had an idea, he brought some music, DeeDee came up with the title, and he wrote the first verse and I wrote the chorus and then I wrote the rest of it.  I think it's a great song. Then [Talking Heads'] Jerry Harrison had that line with the synthesizer, reminds me a little bit like 'Teenage Wasteland' [note: he means 'Baba O'Reilly, obviously], a little bit Who-ish." So there's the story -- from the horse's mouth, so to speak!)


Joey's other co-write, "Daytime Dilemma (The Dangers Of Love)," is a joint effort with Shrapnel guitarist Daniel Rey, who often helped the band in the studio during its later years. The song starts as a snapshot of an All-American girl without a care
 ("Miss personality, a grade 'A' student, naturally/She had it all in place"), whose love life quickly runs aground ("She caught him with another/It turns out it was her mother/What a tragedy").  The song exemplifies the Ramones' ability to take the unlikeliest subjects -- in this case, Joey's love of soap operas -- into darker, quirkier pastures that nobody else would even consider.

That leaves Joey's only solo songwriting contribution, "No Go," which offers a stark contrast to "Chasing The Night"'s rock-till-ya-drop sentiment. In this case, the raver has crashed and burned ("
My brain was racin', but my feet wouldn't fly")), though his desire seems undimmed as ever ("Let's fly/Yeah, you and I/Oh, my, my")...whether he gets to realize it, of course, is a different matter entirely.

Over the years, this song catches stick for its I-IV-V structure and telegrammatic lyrics, but it's also the closest link to the Ramones sound of yore -- which likely explains its positioning as the final track on the original album. (We'll go back to the archives again, this time from an interview with the contemporary Christian music mag Cornerstone, issue #7, 1985, in which Joey says: "It's sort of a be-bop, swing type of song.  I wanted to make it somewhat reminsicent of the Gene Krupa era, but I still wanted it to be very 1984.")



("Howling At The Moon" single: Spanish variation)


Alas, Too Tough To Die didn't break the Ramones' streak of bad luck at the box office -- peaking at #171 on Billboard's US Top 200 chart, but performed better in Sweden (#49) and Britain, where a new generation of fans kept it alive for three weeks at #63 (so says Wikipedia, which also credits Johnny Ramone with playing guitar and writing lyrics -- yet another reason you should take any writer's comments with a bottle of salt). But chart positions and sales aren't the only measure of success. 

As we all know, popular music is full of records that sold by the proverbial bucketload, but don't rate a mention nowadays, and vice versa. For the band, critical notices proved more uniformly encouraging than they'd felt in awhile, whether they read the reviews in CREEM ("the most influential rock 'n' roll band of the last 10 years"), Rolling Stone ("a significant step forward for this great American band...a return to fighting trim by the kings of stripped-down rock"), New Musical Express ("the topics to which they address themselves are largely free of such distracting frills as Mom and Luv"), Sounds ("When the going gets tough, the Ramones start punching...timeless, lovable and essential stuff").

More importantly, the results felt satisfying to all the parties involved.  Regardless of how many people bought the album, the band knew they'd done something special.  "A lot of people had started giving up on us," Joey stated, in the booklet notes for the expanded version. "But Too Tough To Die reinstated us and put us back on top." He voiced similar feelings in his Maximum Rock 'N' Roll interview: "I think it's a real diverse album; very reflective of right now, very contemporary. And the fact that we're putting more time in it, it's a real reunion; we wanted to make a real Ramones record and say 'fuck everything,' which is what we're doing. "We're gonna do exactly what we wanna do this time."  That's the way to go.  Do it the way you wanna do it."

Dee Dee seconded those thoughts, with a nod to the Erdelyi-Stasium production team's input: "The whole 'less is more' thing, Tommy was a big part of that. He was always able to translate what we did when it came time to get it down on tape." 
Johnny, for his part, chalked up the album's artistic success to a newfound unity and sense of purpose: "We knew we needed to get back to the kind of harder material we'd become known for. The pop stuff hadn't really worked, and we knew we were much better off doing what we did best." 

Sadly, much of Too Tough To Die's contents didn't make to the live setlists -- which leaned toward the first four albums, a policy that likely cemented the perception that you didn't need to hear anything else. However, rewards abound for those willing to ignore the conventional wisdom: Too Tough To Die is one of them.  For me, it became an essential building block of my college soundtrack, particularly on those occasions when I'd drive home on the weekend -- though I had to make do by taping somebody else's copy, until I could get my own.

In many ways, writing this post carries a tinge of sadness -- since all the band's founding members are no longer here, leaving drummers Marky and Richie, plus latter-day bassist CJ Ramone, to carry the banner. The Ramones always felt like a necessary counterweight to a mainstream world dripping with corporate pablum. Even now, though, I can't settle for less -- not after hearing the brutal, no-frills simplicity of tracks like "Danger Zone," or "Endless Vacation," which exerted a powerful gravitational pull on my own lyrical and musical styles.


Even if you're not a Ramones fan, Too Tough To Die offers a useful reminder of what any creative person can accomplish by keeping their head down...ignoring the trends...and staying true to themselves.  When I doubt the value of these lessons, I can put on this album, and lose myself on the undertow of its unlikeliest moment, "Howling At The Moon (Sha-La-La)" -- a synth-dominated number with bells and additional keyboards from Benmont Tench -- that Dee Dee also wrote by himself.

Strangely, "Howling At The Moon" became the only single pulled from Too Tough To Die -- spending a meager two weeks at #85 on the UK charts before disappearing from view. Like many moments in the Ramones' career, the popular reaction amounted to a collective shrug, yet time and trends haven't dimmed the appeal of an outlaw sentiment that's more necessary than ever ("There's no law, no law anymore/I want to steal from the rich, and give to the poor"), and falls into ruthless focus on the bridge: "Winter turns to summer/Sadness turns to fun/Keep the faith, baby/You broke the rules and won." Keep these words in mind -- and, indeed, the other 12 tracks on display here -- the next time that somebody tries to break your spirit.You'll be glad you did  --The Reckoner


1-2-3-4...All The Links You Need (And More):
Chordie.com: Too Tough To Die Guitar Tabs (Full Album!):
http://www.chordie.com/chord.pere/www.guitaretab.com/r/ramones/15568.html

Julian Cope Presents Head Heritage:
Ramones: Too Tough To Die

http://www.headheritage.co.uk/unsung/review/1504/

The Independent: Nick Hasted:
"Tommy Ramone's Rock 'N' Roll Legacy Should Not Be Underestimated":

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/nick-hasted-tommy-ramones-rocknroll-legacy-should-not-be-underestimated-9603479.html

Too Tough To Die (Expanded And Remastered Edition):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4LnXMtU6ns

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Too Much Pressure (Life As Evil Science Experiment, Take I)


Too much pressure, this pressure got to stop
Too much pressure, it's getting to my head
Too much pressure, 
they're giving me hard times
Too much pressure, my man made me sad
Too much pressure, 
him try to make me look small
Too much pressure, end up with no money

Released in August 1980, the lead-off single from this classic Two Tone band's first album sums up the steaming, noxious pile of crap that characterizes so much of our so-called modern life. I've always dug this song, because it does that classic R&B/soul trick of mating downbeat sentiments to some of the bounciest toe-tapping music you'll ever likely to encounter.

I'd have given anything to see the local lads' reaction once they stopped bopping their heads long enough at some hole-in-the-wall pub...and heard what the band was really saying underneath the bounciness. The song recently gained new life on The Abyss soundtrack, of all places -- but, hey, record sales aren't what they used to be, so you shake some action wherever you can, right?

Sadly, of course, this song's lyrics haven't aged a whit: for a further snapshot, see the link below to the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation's July 2014 press release on its survey about stress in American life. To me, the most interesting finding is that those in poor health and people with disabilities were most likely to report some kind of stressful incident in their lives. Such details have a "man bites dog" quality to them, but one that's often forgotten (especially by judgmental blockheads who tell you -- with a straight face -- to "just snap out of it").

Pressure has a funny way of blindsiding those of us who surf the margins...this is the third time I've restarted this post, because the situation keeps changing. For the last couple days, I've worked like a galley slave on various editorial projects to keep those funky dollar bills flying in...it's a little hard to get into the Yuletide groove when you're feeling chained to your computer screen all day long. 

The good news, however, is that -- thanks to my strong last-minute footwork -- the budget chasm will likely melt down to a budget gap. The Squawker and myself aren't exactly ready to break out the confetti quite yet, because we've still got roughly $200 in bills to cover.  But I feel somewhat better than I did last week about where the budget equation stands -- or else, this post might have taken a considerably darker tone. 

Earlier this week, we also won a $100 gas card.  With the oily black stuff hovering slightly north of $2 per gallon right now, the timing couldn't have been better...hell, if we'd have had some extra nickels and dimes to scratch together, we could even have gone on one of our celebrated last-minute road trips ("Man, it's too nice to park in front of this computer screen all day -- let's get the hell out of here"). I'm sure we'll make up that lost time another day, though.

Too much pressure, and 
all them certain kind of people
Too much pressure, them having it easy
Too much pressure, them having it easy
Too much pressure, them sail through life
Too much pressure, them have no joy
Too much pressure, them have no joy
It's too much pressure, it's too much pressure

Like I've already mentioned, though, we're not out of the woods yet.  One troubling, wearying feature of modern life -- which, as Blur so sagely reminded us, is rubbish -- is that somebody always finds a way to reach into your pocket for more of the pittance that you do bring home.

Case in point: starting in January, I'll have to resign myself to shelling out an additional $30 per month for water and sewer. It's the first time that I've run into such a concept as a renter, which deep-freezes my heart.  My mental image is of a malicious Mr. Magoo type rubbing his bony calloused hands together, cackling: "How can we squeeze just a few more pennies from these people? Hey, wait a minute, this idea sounds pretty inspired..."

No matter, the rent now edges up to $800 per month, and -- although I've been promised that's the limit -- the jury's still out on that one, as far as I'm concerned. You know that old cliche: when anybody in an official capacity advises, "Don't worry"...that's when you should worry. Remember all those "temporary" jails and taxes? They have a way of becoming pretty damn permanent, especially when people quit paying attention.

As I write this, I'm contemplating some type of eBay sale -- or maybe a repeat of October's hat trick...when I sold off about a quarter of my record collection to inject some greenback lifeblood into my bank account. In one sense, it's not a big deal: if you're a dedicated vinyl and CD archaeologist, it's not unusual to buy, sell and re-acquire three or four copies of a favorite album.  

On the other hand, it's another reminder of the nether status that you seem to permanently inhabit -- because, obviously, if your situation didn't feel so precarious, you surely wouldn't contemplate such a maneuver. Lately, this so-called contract life feels like bank robbery: you can't build a rainy day fund, because you've been forced to spend all the money that you just made from the last job...which forces you to go back out, and pull another, and another, and another...and so on, and so forth.  Wash, rinse repeat.

Suffice to say, it's not a situation that you feel like tolerating indefinitely. The Squawker and I talk a lot about what more we want from life -- the right combination of dominoes hasn't quite fallen into place, I suppose. For the moment, I'll just enjoy myself, unleash some of my pent-up creative energies -- starting with this post -- before I square off again with the economic forces of reaction that so many of us are staring down right now.  We'll see how things turn out, but just remember...pressure doesn't ever take a holiday. --The Reckoner

Links T'Go (Before Yer Head Implodes...)

Too Much Pressure: The Play

Too Much Pressure: The Selecter (YouTube Video):

Friday, December 12, 2014

Homeless Hate



It's so wrong they ban sitting or lying down in some of these towns. That could affect the none homeless disabled or elderly who may need to take a rest. When 100 towns make laws like this
this means compassion is short in supply in America! --The Squawker

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Poverty Level Republicans (You Gotta Love 'Em)


You've probably seen this book making the rounds at one time or another. Originally published in 1937, Hill's purported rags-to-riches instruction manual has entered the inner ring of all-time best-sellers (reportedly racking up some 20 million copies at the time of his death in 1970). Of course, it's a tad light on specifics, though Hill apparently believes that visualization is sufficient to get the heavy lifting done: "You may as well know, right here, that you can never have riches in great quantities unless you work yourself into a white heat of desire for money, and actually believe you will possess it."

It's not a stretch to imagine such disparate characters as the Beach Boys' lead singer, Mike Love, corporate raider T. Boone Pickens and the late "Queen Of Mean", Leona Helmsley, reading such passages aloud to themselves, nodding their approval: "Some day, I'll stand at the top of the pile...and when I do, there won't be any stopping me."

My introduction to Hill's book came as a teenager, after my late father -- who was a contractor -- brought it home from a job one day, shaking his head. When I queried further, it turned out that Dad's latest client had practically pressed the book into his palm, suggesting that he give Hill's ideas a try. What did Dad have to lose? Besides, once he finished reading it, he wouldn't avoid the only logical conclusion...and become a Republican, since they were the cash-endowed ones, right?

However, my dad had no interest in joining The Party Of No, let alone voting for any of their so-called representatives...especially after doing jobs here or there for members of the local GOP hierarchy, who'd often treated him (as he told me) "like just another dumb laborer"...even though he'd largely educated himself after the Second World War ended, primarily by reading just about every book he could get his hands on. Suffice to say, Mr. Hill's masterpiece sat gathering dust on the shelf in our den, and my dad never broached the subject again.



Dear Old Dad's encounter with Napoleon Hill's ideology ("What the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve") marked my first encounter with a new phenomenon: The Poverty Level Republican.  The above graphic sums up the distinction cleverly enough, but for those who just tuned in, it's the opposite of the image typically associated with the Elephant Set: those grubby little "One Percenters" that we all keep hearing so much about.  However, I don't hate them for voting Republican, because there's a rational undercurrent behind such choices: they're only looking after their own best interests (such as reducing their individual tax burden to infinitesimal levels...but I digress).


I began seeing more Poverty Level Republicans after starting college. Overall, they tended to occupy the bottom or lower middle class rungs of the American economic ladder, which didn't dim -- not for a second -- their admiration for such up-and-coming conservative spear carriers as our newly-elected fortieth president, Ronald Reagan, or his eager acolytes (including supply-side gurus like Arthur Laffer and Milton Freidman, for example). They boasted a comically exaggerated self-confidence in their own bootstrapping abilities, even if that "some-day-my-ship-will-come-in" moment seemed an awfully long way off (as in, "dig-up-John-Lennon-to-reunite-the-Beatles" or "Finding-Jimmy-Hoffa's-perfectly-mummified-body-in-an-oil-drum-in-Southfield" territory).

However, you never heard any resentment voiced towards a political system that had only just begun its hellbent descent toward record levels of inequality. Hell, they wanted to become rich -- or, at least, well to do -- so why vote for anyone trying to interfere with the emerging Trickle-Down way of doing business? At the same time, the Poverty Level Republicans I met couldn't wait for the day that Reagan would finally push those mooching welfare queens right off the couch, and into the cold, where they so rightfully belonged.

If that meant putting off social equity a little bit longer, so be it. If that meant having to brown bag it a couple more times per week, so be it. If that meant stitching together two, three or even four part-time jobs to cobble enough money for tuition, housing or meal plan rates that were already approaching stratospheric levels, so be it. If that meant putting off major life decisions like getting married, or buying a house, to pay back those student loans -- which were also ratcheting into outer space -- so be it.

Whatever personal difficulties lay ahead, Poverty Level Republicans just confidently asserted that their personal boom time lay just around the corner (even if they didn't know which corner)...or President Reagan would give one of those folksy, but blistering fireside chats on TV, and whip those pinheads in Congress back into line...then everything would work out somehow, in its own surreal American way. You had to love optimism like that, even if no empirical evidence suggested the remotest chance of the above-mentioned scenario happening.

One of the tragic ironies of Barack Obama's presidency, it appears, is that some of his most ardent haters are the "99 Percenters" that he's trying to save -- even if it's from themselves. A recent Yahoo News story that Your Humble Narrator came across puts the whole situation nicely in perspective, focusing on why those "red state" Kentuckians can't bring themselves to support Obama.

I won't belabor the contents but what's funny (and sad) is the deepest hatred coming from the people with the least money -- and the most to lose. As one Kentucky resident (Eric Miller) observes, "If there weren't government programs, it would be a ghost town." Yet, in the same breath, he states: "The Republicans, they are the ones that know...raised up like we have, you know. Know what it's like, what we need, what shouldn't been taken away."

Such comments are downright surreal, especially when you consider the Republican-dominated House of Representatives' attempt last year to cram steep food stamp cuts down the throats of gents like Mr. Miller, who gets by on $380 per month.  Congress's recent decision to let additional unemployment extensions expire -- "not with a bang, but a whimper," as T.S. Eliot would say -- is another indicator of how the political class feels about the pesky 99 Percenters they claim to represent so ardently.

At best, they view them as a nuisance to fool into re-electing them; at worst, they harbor a deep-seated hatred and hostility toward the Eric Millers of the world. After all, various members of the Elephant Set have openly boasted of "starving the beast" as a strategy -- the theory being, if you continue gutting social programs past the point of no return, the poor will eventually shrivel up and blow away, just like all those tumbleweeds you've seen lately at dead malls across America. 


So why do the Eric Millers of the world, then, vote for the people who seemingly stay up around the clock, thinking of new ways to keep down?  Various explanations have been trotted out to try and account for the Poverty Level Republican phenomenon, which you can read below, too. Speaking from experience, however, I personally see little or no point in trying to explain bullshit for bullshit's sake. In my time, I've seen a more mundane phenomenon at work.  

People display a remarkable knack for doublethink.  They rail against "welfare moochers," even they collect food stamps and cash assistance themselves. They vote against ballot proposals and millages -- even renewals, which are considered no-brainer propositions in municipal circles -- yet are the first to scream for the services that have long evaporated  They fight like a wounded bear cub for whatever government benefits they collect, even as they pay lip service to that moth-eaten cliche that's all too frequently trotted out during the latest national debate ("America must learn to live within its means").

Contrary to what some of my left-of-center friends think, I don't believe these inconsistent attitudes reflect a desire to get rich quick anymore -- hell, with so many people broke and leveraged to the hilt, the New American Dream is simply getting out of debt.  The simpler explanation comes down to a quote attributed to Mark Twain, though I haven't managed to track down its source: "Few political systems are as ingenious as getting people to vote against their own best interests as this one."  

That's as good an explanation as I've heard for the current administration's struggles. When Obama came to Capitol Hill in 2008, he hoped, prayed and stated that -- somehow, somewhere, doggone it -- people would line up behind him, whether they agreed with him or not, for the sake of the nation. It's the kind of kabuki theater that causes seasoned political journalists to piss their pants with laughter, but apparently, our Commander In Chief really believed that scenario would happen.

Alas, such dew-eyed dreamin' and doe-eyed optimism collided head-on with The Party Of No...and their accomplices, the Poverty Level Republicans. Meanwhile, the collateral damage continues, with everyone else paying the price. In short, it's business as usual. --The Reckoner


Links To Go (And Get Depressed By):
AppalledByLePage.com: Against Their Own Interest: Why The Rural Poor Vote Republican
http://www.appalledbylepage.com/2012/10/18/against-their-own-interest/

DemocraticUnderground.com: Poor Kentucky Has No Stomach For Obama
http://www.democraticunderground.com/10024955559
[Note: This is only a partial recap, since the link apparently doesn't exist anymore -- and I don't want the Copyright Cops chasing me down if I post it all here.  Anyway, the resulting discussion should give you a good feel for the actual content.]

The New York Times Opinion Pages: Moochers Against Welfare
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/17/opinion/krugman-moochers-against-welfare.html

Monday, January 27, 2014