Yesterday was International Women’s Day so what could be more appropriate than advocating reading than a book which lays out the ongoing conditions under which many girls and women do not thrive in our world while fighting to survive despite the odds against them? Via chapters presented as entries of significant words and phrases in The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary writer NoNieqa Ramos takes you directly into the inner world of Macy Cashmere–named for the store and the fine wool used in luxury clothing items–who puts the survival skills of the likes of Laura Croft Tomb Raider to shame. Suffice it to say that Macy has truly mad survival skills and an equally mad will to thrive no matter what the world throws, literally, at her. Now there’s one thing that’s crucial for you, the reader, to keep in mind: Macy’s world IS our world, your’s and mine, no matter what your level of reality denial may be based on the specific context in which you live, this is the truth. Savage Inequalities is not only the title of Jonathan Kozol’s indictment of educational inequity in America–which still exists. Savage inequalities is one way of describing the nature of the vastly differing statuses between females and males—unequal on multiple levels and viciously savage from the home-front to the war-fronts. Macy’s dictionary presents an indictment not of the educational system which far too often serves as an overburdened safety net for children, but of American culture which treats girls and women as sexual objects for exploitation and male gratification. If you don’t agree then quite possibly you’re living in a vacuum without a cleaner. I’m not going to argue the point as the media lays it all out there every day with ongoing reality checks from real life—no need for reality television shows which are pure fantasy yet often reflect this sad state of affairs. Now that that fundamental piece of ugly truth has been laid out (no sexual allusion intended) let’s let Macy take the lead. This is a first person narrative which speaks to readers without pulling any punches. Actually it throws very hard punches. Consider your children very lucky, and very privileged, if they have a home, stable family life, enough food to eat –at home–, access to a quality education, and your undivided attention whenever they need it. Macy Cashmere has none of these essentials. Macy is a designated “problem child” at school where she speaks her mind very freely–and is willing to pay the consequences for doing so. She knows the in-school behavior drills so well that at times she pushes the office buzzer herself after crossing lines. If she didn’t have such a strong voice and immense willpower who would pay any attention? School is not perfect, but it does throw life lines to Macy via the likes of Miss Black who sees and hears far more of Macy than she lets on and does what she can to feed and support Macy mentally, emotionally and physically. Oh the power of music, never underestimate it. Jazz pulls Macy’s trigger in all the right ways upon her first hearing of John Coltrane, A Love Supreme in Miss Black’s class.
Macy’s home world might be described as a mix of David Simon’s Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets of Baltimore and Dick Wolf’s Law & Order’s SVU–yes, it’s full of sex crimes and violence. If you think I’m pushing this too far, well, Simon’s book and Wolf’s series kept coming to mind while I followed Macy through her world. So that’s that–the power of references for creating connections. The difference is that it’s all seen and told from the viewpoint of a young teenage girl–not from the perspective of adults. Adult perspectives trickle in via Macy’s observations but they do NOT drive this narrative in her very personalized dictionary format. The chapter titled “I Have A Dream” has nothing to do with Martin Luther King’s speech except perhaps as its utter antithesis. Yet, Macy’s world is one created by adults–and not just her parents–and a system devised by adults and perpetuated by adults–and fought by other adults. Macy is a girl who knows how to effectively put to use whatever comes to hand to deal with important problems like a visit from CPS and the entrapment of her best friend by an oh so caring “uncle”: an all-purpose cleanser, a slave’s machete, a bag of cocaine. Make no mistake, nothing holds Macy back when she sets out to protect those she loves: her brother Zane, her friend George, her best friend Alma–for whom being Gifted & Talented is not enough to ensure escape from poverty, not by a long shot.
As if violence, drugs and wrecked home life aren’t enough challenges for the girls Macy represents there’s the entire SEX package to contend with. What matters to the males of our species? Breasts, bodies, and booty calls—those are what females are for–bottom line, that’s it. Brains never come into the picture. Heart never comes into the picture. It’s all a sex end game never-ending. At least that’s what Macy observes from her mother’s efforts to survive and the prostitutes like Velvet working the streets. Yes, Macy has issues with her mother. Issues so big they’re ethically trying. Ironically, Velvet does more looking out for Macy than her mother seems capable of on a good day with or without her “guests” who provide the necessities of life when Macy’s father goes to prison. Perhaps it’s because one good turn deserves another thinking–or maybe it’s just plain decency and fair play in Velvet’s books. Just because you’re stuck in the sex for hire business in order to eat doesn’t make you a bad person—far from it. But who would Velvet be with other options? What would Macy’s mother do with positive options? Think about that. Who would you be with no positive options in your life? Why do we do the things we do–and don’t? Macy’s dictionary entry:
Why
Noun: Reasons 1 and 2
Why do I hate? Because it’s so much easier than love. Because hate is reality. Love is a fantasy.
Why do I write? Le me break it down. Teacher Man taught us about something called haves and have-nots.
Via the words that really matter and their meanings for this very “disturbed girl”, Nonieqa Ramos deftly gives Macy Cashmere not just a voice but a ROAR impossible to ignore. Ramos does this so effectively that her writing makes it look easy–the sign of real greatness in every art and skill. It’s not difficult to read the writing and words on the pages–but it gets downright nerve-racking to take in the content the words portray. Macy Cashmere’s dictionary is disturbing—it’s supposed to be. It’s a book meant to shake you up and rattle your brain pan. Macy Cashmere is here to wake people up not lull them into sleep at bedtime. How would you go about saving your best friend from the worst daily grind you can imagine? What are machetes for? I don’t think that qualifies as a spoiler. Hmm, naw, just a hook for Macy’s line of action in this microcosm of the world in which we live. Have you asked your teenage girl what’s going in her life lately? If not, you need to get on that right now, because the issues faced by Macy Cashmere are everywhere. If you don’t know what those issues are then you need to read The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary asap because it’s only a matter of degrees.
One older white male neighbor’s smoldering pit fire.
Who burns ‘whatever’ in a pit all day and night long when it’s been dry as hell?
An older white dude used to doing whatever he wants.
Late this morning–after I’d put out seed and water:
One younger white dude living in the house next to the fire starter’s saw the fire reach the wood pile along the fence.
Young white dude did nothing.
He thought it was “a grill thing”.
There is NO grill anywhere in sight in any yard.
It was our Mexican American neighbor, Edgar, who lives on the other side of the block who came to the front door and told me about the fire along the fence separating our yards.
He wanted to know if he could use the hose to put out the fire by the fence.
Together we went to work with shovels and hoses.
His wife called the electric company to alert them to the danger to the electric ‘box’ on the ground
There were English as a second language ‘language’ and location issues.
A map would have been very useful for the person answering the electric company phone. As in for seeing that the addresses on one side a block are on a different street than those on the other side of a block along another street. So much for Google maps if you’re working for the Power and Light Company.
We sorted that communication problem out via my resorting to what is commonly known as “bitch” mode in very loud English.
The Power and Light person kept repeating “Call 911.”
I asked her to call 911–she had the address–because WE , Edgar and I, were busy keeping it contained.
A man from Power and Light came to check the ground electric box.
The fire department did not put in an appearance.
The fire is out.
Which neighbors can I do WITHOUT?
~~~~~~
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The upside of accepting an invitation to a social gathering far beyond your comfort zone:
You are reminded why you usually keep as far from the mainstream as possible:
Barefoot half-dressed children old enough to know better writhing on the floor of a busy restaurant while people evade stepping on them on the way to the buffet lines.
Tiny birdlike elderly women repeatedly filling multiple plates with food they nibble but do not eat.
Men of all sizes, ages and races bulking up on a never-ending flow of fried chicken, fake mashed potatoes, and ice cream.
Women of all sizes, ages and races eating a never-ending flow of pizza, ice cream and soda.
Children of all sizes, ages and races playing with enough food to supply all the free lunches for several schools for at least a week.
Employees unable to keep up with clearing plates, tables and filling the buffet stations. Even the flatware disappears moments after it appears.
The streets and parking lot are filled with whales of vehicles large enough to swallow your car whole–and then some. What is the gas mileage for such creations? Never mind–you really do not want to know at the moment.
In addition to all of the above, the promised group conversation is disturbingly disjointed,and disconnected among people who supposedly spend some time reading books for pleasure. “Supposedly” being highly suspect at this point. There is a studious evasion of any discussion of politics, climate change and #NoDAPL Standing Rock—
“Let’s not go there.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It makes us uncomfortable.”
“Besides, what is with those protesters?”
“Why can’t they be like everyone else? No, please, please, don’t answer.”
[What two words am I thinking but not saying–(or writing now)?]
Upon exiting the dysfunctional main stream stress level plummets to acceptable health levels.
To do:
Practice polite refusals for future reference until they are part of mental health survival kit and readily available for deployment for evading similar future engagements. After all, It is the ‘season’ when people want to be sooooo sweetly social.
BAH! And Hum Bug Too!
(note: ads belong to wordpress not moi. thank you for visiting.)
Why do I have the feeling I’m going to run these two words into the ground?
Oh the reality show aka American politics needs a rating boost.
Let’s get an orange to spin the ratings machine.
OOOps!
Too much reality SHOW.
Four wheel drive can not deal with this spin.
Too much for the snow tires with chains to handle.
Orange Julius for everyone!
No, I want an Orange Crush!
–And I want it NOW!
Where’s a tanning machine when you need one?
Easy, easy there’s enough solar energy for all the mainstream news anchors to get a healthy looking tan. You’ll all be a nice even orange tone in no time at all.
It’s not often I write about this blog–why it exists, why I return to it after long and short lapses, or its purpose. In reality this blog served its main purpose years ago. Other than that it’s been a means for a non-tech person to learn the absolute bare basics required to connect with the ever-changing venue of the world-wide web. As such it has continued on as a means of sharing any thing that interests me. That said, let’s get a few things very clear:
1–This is a ‘free’ blog: I do not pay WordPress for the privilege of using theme thirteen. And WordPress does not pay me. I appreciate having a quality venue for sharing my personal interests with whoever is inclined to visit my blogcasa.
2–This blog earns absolutely ZILCH, Zero, Nada, Nothing in dollars and cents. I have absolutely no connection to any advertisements which appear here. This blog was never intended to generate any personal income whatsoever for moi. It has not. It does not.
3–I will not post comments which contain hate speech, personal attacks on individuals whose books, views, films, music or other creative work I’ve written about. There’s too much hate speech in the world already and I prefer not to contribute to it by giving it yet another platform. Note to those returning to look for said comments: while I respect your First Amendment right to make certain statements please do take some time to consider the meanings of the words slander and libel and potential legal consequences thereof.
4–Regarding a number of primary historical documents from record group 75 posted on this blog. As stated on several such posts–but not all–historical information to which anyone who visits the National Archives has access (take note that there are many people who for one reason or another do NOT have direct access to the National Archives) was shared to make it available to individuals searching for family information (some of this is now currently on ancestry.com), to inform others about historical conditions, perspectives and the lives of real people–what they suffered and endured.
5–Main points one through four being stated as clearly and concisely as I am currently able to write: It’s 26 degrees here (nothing compared to the brutal cold at Standing Rock, North Dakota)–a drop of over sixty degree in a week’s time. Less than one inch of snow has fallen. This is not normal. The ground remains hard as a rock. It’s necessary to break and refill water dishes for the birds, squirrels, coyotes, and whatever creatures dare to come out at night as there is NO standing water in any of the usual areas for them. The city’s seasonally hired snow crews are cutting down trees instead of plowing snow. I am none too thrilled about this continuing tree removal program but so far am as powerless as the squirrels and birds to do anything about it. Removing diseased tress I understand. Cutting down healthy ones is beyond my comprehension. The news on the political level is testing my patience. My tolerance for the mainstream media has entirely evaporated with their failed coverage of the election, #NoDAPL Standing Rock, and Climate Change.
—On the upside: I am NOT a woman living in Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Syria, etc.etc. Yes, I’m well aware certain ‘parties’ in America would have it here as is there. When will the female half of the human population decide enough is enough? I don’t know.
Do No Harm
namaste
PS. If you have any questions regarding any of the above or something else, you are welcome to leave them in the coments section for moderaton and posting.
Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian is also one of my favorite bad books. And Kurt Vonneguts’s Slaughterhouse-Five is another dark keeper from the usual banned books suspects. I have to admit that unlike the other two books which make you laugh and cry, Slaughterhouse-Five seriously lacks in the laughs column. But it’s a powerful book about the horror of war.
So what books would you stand up for in the age of manipulative mind control?
Hola fellow web travelers. As a follow-up to my return to the online world I thought I’d connect with my prior post by filling in a gap in the City By City Dispatches from the American Metropolis edited by Keith Gessen and Stephen Squibb with a snapshot of Kansas City, Missouri–with a few side notes regarding some areas PR people like to associate it with, and some it would rather forget exist too close for their comfortably red-lined zones. Please don’t take this missive as a criticism of City By City. Editors have to work with the material they’re given and I am certainly enjoying its varied dispatches from Detroit, Washington D.C. (a brothel, how deliciously appropriate), and Chicago’s Hyde Park. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Gessen and Squibb either received no dispatches from Kansas City or if they did they couldn’t figure out what to make of them. The latter would be very understandable as Kansas City, Missouri has multiple personalities. Which one you encounter depends entirely on where you are–literally–physically.
If you were to stand on the corner of midtown Kansas City at 39th and Main Street, ground zero for KKFI, a community radio station like none other, your view of Kansas City changes drastically depending on which direction you take from there. Go south and west for money, some of it old and resting very comfortably. North offers old ethnic neighborhoods like Little Italy, and the City Market area working at staying alive north of the infamous Independence Avenue line (former hunting grounds for serial killers). Go east towards the Troost line you’ll find neighborhoods locked in life and death struggles with poverty and crime while contending with everything from a tragically failed public school district to abandoned vacant houses, gangs, and violent crime.
Heading west on 39th Street will take you to what remains of the city’s midtown bohemian neighborhoods. The ghost of the New York style D’Bronx pizzeria haunts the south corner of 39th and Bell while Prospero’s Books holds down the fort directly opposite it on the northern corner. Behind the 39th Street mainly food business line-up is a crowd of densely packed homes of all makes and ages. It’s a cool crazy quilt of unpredictability. Continue westward and you’ll cross State Line and then you’re in the KU Med area–which is on the Kansas side of the street, not in Missouri. Though you might never guess it. PR people like to make the most of what’s good around them.
If you travel south down Main and 39th to Westport Road you’ll wind up in the increasingly yuppified Westport area which currently caters to people who enjoy imbibing copious amounts of the legal drug known as alcohol in their free time. Long gone is the classy independent bookstore, the unique clothing stores, the movie theater and many other business venues unconnected to providing watering holes for the young and senseless. To be fair, the heroic Broadway Cafe remains steadfast on Broadway. As far as I currently know it is the ONLY independent coffeehouse to drive out the invasive species known as Starbucks. Yep, that’s right. Corporate Starbucks came, saw and invaded–and departed without conquering the superior java product. Also, the incredible Tivoli Cinemas remains–after relocating to Pennsylvania Ave. There’s also a newer food gig in the area–a new version of The Corner Restaurant complete with goat cheese, kale and alligator. No bagels and lox there–no way. The area has completely lost the feel of a friendly and engaging one-stop contained neighborhood but it is still alive, though steadily losing the remains of its inviting personality. I still mourn the closing of its independent music store, Streetside Records, which was once a great place to explore an incredibly wide range of music. It’s where I purchased Joan Osborne’s Relish after listening and discovering it offered far more than “If God Was One of Us.” Unless you’re into the drunk and disorderly scene evade the area on the weekends after dark when the partying begins in earnest as there are multiple hardcore drinking establishments all within a minute’s walk of each other from the corner of Pennsylvania and Westport Road. If you’re into drunk and disorderly then by all means go wallow whole hog all night long.
If you continue further south on Broadway you will enter the alternate universe of The Plaza where the fountains flow and so does the money dough. It’s not called the Country Club Plaza for nothing. Years and years ago this was an upscale middle class yet still affordable area with all kinds of interesting independent shops and food venues. These days it caters to those with two hundred dollars to spend on jeans without batting an eye. Dinner can easily cost a hundred dollars a person at some eateries. Most of the affordable housing in this area has vanished, but there’s plenty to be had for the urban condo set. The Plaza offers Thanksgiving lights, fountains, a very uninspiring insipid Art Fair–art which will not offend, raise issues or stretch anyone’s mind–but it’ll work well with your color scheme. So ironic considering the fact that just a few blocks away rests the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art–well, maybe not so ironic other things considered. If you desire more engaging on the fringe art then go north from 39th and Main to the Crossroads area around Broadway and 18th Streets. But visit it fast because the high and mighty are digging in big time with developments with hopes to connect the dots to the Power and Light District (Remind me: urban revitalization for who? Yuppies? Again?) and the real people character is vanishing fast. You’ll know the former Crossroads has been entirely vanquished when YJ’s Snack Bar closes and the jamming ends. Yep, that will signal the end of an era.
Okay,so venturing southwest from The Plaza and you’ll find impressive homes on lots large enough for five or six of the houses east of Troost Ave. None of them will have their garbage or household discards left sitting at curb for weeks and weeks and weeks as happens in the neighborhoods east of Troost where, if you’re not squeamish, you can have your pick of couches, mattresses, and entertainment centers. Even the huge lovely Loose Park is very well maintained. There’s cool green space galore with huge old trees, a pond, picnic areas and rose garden. I wonder if anyone east of Troost ever enters the rose garden contest held at Loose Park? I’ve never seen roses blooming in the parks east of Troost. Seeing a bench to sit on is a find. This is part of the character of extreme contrasts that Kansas City offers. This can easily be missed by staying on the highways when driving in from Independence, Missouri–a former Meth Lab Capital of the World–though who knows what’s really going on in that American drug swamp. If you drive into Kansas City from Independence on any residential street like 23rd or 31st instead of I70 you’ll get a close up view of the multiple urban landscapes of Kansas City from the bottom of the economic ladder to the top from east to west/southwest. You might even be impressed by the bus-stop at the corner of 31st and Troost–it does look like something from this decade, sort of.
Heading south from The Plaza, or from 31st and Troost, you’ll find the University of Missouri which years ago ran into very deep shit with its very diverse residential neighbors when it embarked on a buy and destroy mission to enable expansion of the parking garage ilk–among other things. The good neighbors fought back hard, going so far as to threaten UMKC’s chancellor’s residence with a bulldozer. No joke, these people were pissed off and rightly so in my opinion. Along Rockhill Road were blocks of lawn signs screaming “UMKC Kills Homes.” So much for the Ivory Tower’s idealism when it comes to money matters. This is another area in which the small independent local business flavor has all but disappeared. Perhaps they just don’t make people the same anymore? Just a question. Rockhill Road leads to Brookside and Waldo areas where the older tree-lined streets are narrow and generally quiet and the grocery store offers delights you won’t find in Wild Woody’s store east of Troost on 31 Street. Lamb chops and Green Tea ice cream anyone? Hmm?
Troost Avenue is only one block east of Rockhill Road. Once you get past being impressed by Rockhurst University’s presence on the east side of the street it’s clear straight off that the residences are not on par with those to the west of UMKC. Things are a tad rougher and tougher looking on the east side of Troost for the hard-working poor and their attendant gangs. Just a tad. I don’t think I’ve ever been in another city with such an obvious social economic division designated by a single street running north/south where you can actually stand on the street’s yellow dividing line and see two contrasting worlds just by looking in opposite directions: urban blight versus urban de-light.
I haven’t said anything about barbecue. Yeah, there’s plenty of it in all directions.
Nor have I mentioned the Historic Jazz District at 18th and Vine which is one street featuring the wonderful Gem Theater, the Blue Room and the American Jazz Museum, The Call newspaper–and historic painted storefronts.
Then there’s the Northeast area of Kansas City with its incredible influx of immigrants whose language needs the Kansas City Public library tries to address with ESL courses.
I haven’t mentioned the former mayor who refused to discuss the state of education even when it was front page news.
I haven’t mentioned the ex-school superintendent who insisted that 36 students in a classroom was a good thing.
Nor have I said anything about the decline of a newspaper that first impressed me with its coverage of a suspected serial killer hunting prostitutes and other vulnerable women on Independence Ave.
I’ve only hinted at the vibrant art scene that serves as a huge street party every first Friday.
There are thousands of homeless people in Kansas City.
There’s extreme wealth in Kansas City–and that’s not counting Johnson County which is in KANSAS not Missouri–and there’s extreme poverty with every economic class in between. I wonder if the people working at the Channel 4 news station ever drove down the street right behind their building and saw the houses with plastic sheeting for windows? Yes, there were people living in those places.
I could write a great deal more. I’m trying to stop while I’m ahead. I suspect I might already be behind the eight ball here.
Perhaps the very best thing about Kansas City is the community radio station which is still going strong after more than twenty years of Jazz, Blues, World, Folk, Classical, Latino, Reggae, and Rock music. If anything is truly alive and well in Kansas City, Missouri, it is KKFI–the beating heart of a diverse population which can’t be red lined. If you want a taste of Kansas City then tune in–they’re streaming online world-wide from the corner of 39th and Main 365 days and nights a year.
An interesting thing happens when you unplug from the world-wide web–time expands. Yes it does indeed. Time expands in the sense of all the things you can explore OFFline. Consider what happens when you forget your cellphone and you don’t feel the need to answer every ringtone like Pavlov’s puppies. Oh the freedom from the ring, from the keyboard connected to social media, and everything in the info universe. It can be very liberating–and you realize just how much energy, effort and time you’ve been putting into communication technology. Having been almost constantly online since BEFORE Facebook and twitter were even imagined I discovered a real big break from it all was in order. It’s been the kind of break where I’m on the verge of needing to upgrade my cellphone so that it will ‘work’. Aside from personal connections I have not missed the world-wide web much. I don’t enjoy reading books online–but I adore reading. Writing online has its pros and cons. I’ve discovered that the best way to deal with writer’s block is to actually write with a pen/pencil on paper. Yeah, it works. According the research I suspect it’s because more of your brain is stimulated by using your fine motor skills when using a pen than with using a keyboard. Oh and there’s never a problem with power outages or viruses or hitting the wrong key and sending everything into nowhere-land. Yes, being offline has been very good for my writing. It’s also been good for reading, exploring music, and cooking. Virtual cooking leads to virtual food and that’s inedible no matter what it does to your salivary glands.
When you’re exploring books offline in a library setting interesting things tend to happen–to me anyway. For example, an oversize book cover featuring Virginia Woolf’s profile draws your attention to Stefan Bollman’s Women Who Write, a book of profiles of women writers. Reading Francine Prose’s introduction raises the question of what other women have won the Nobel Prize in Literature since the book’s publication. The answer to this query leads to 2015 Nobel Prize winner Svetlana Alexievich’s Voices from Chernobyl:The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster. I currently do not know where else you can read anything like this in English. Which leads in turn to the translator, Keith Gessen who is the co-editor of City By City, Dispatches from the American Metropolis. The essays therein present diverse perspectives on the American urban landscape–and they’re anything but boring.
I heartily recommend all these books for your reading table or tablet. Warning: Voices from Chernobyl may break your heart with its love stories. What happens to people who know nothing about the downside of nuclear energy when things go terribly wrong? This is an intensely personal record of what happens. Considering the world in which we live we owe to these people to at least make ourselves aware and informed. Because Blue Skies do not mean all is hunky dory in the radioactive universe. Note: this is also a National Book Critics Circle Award winner for General Nonfiction.
Dots:
~Virginia Woolf’s profile
~Women Who Write by Stefan Bollman, Francine Prose
~Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster by Svetlana Alexievich
~Translator Keith Gessen
~City By City, Dispatches from the American Metropolis edited by Keith Gessen and Stephen Squibb
Please do feel free to share wherever these dots lead you.
Thanks for engaging here. Your time, energy and virtual presence is very much appreciated–more than ever before.
Only if I can remember how to type.
Testing: uno, dos, tres, . . ..
It’s raining slugs and snails. In other words, it’s very wet in my tiny part of the universe.
Mini rant: I have NEVER met a single doctor who ever behaved like the ones depicted in television shows who exhibit interest and engagement with their patients. I suspect television shows are simply marketing models for an ongoing AMA public relations effort.
Yeah, I’ve been away for a long time.
There’s a baseball film titled “The Trouble with the Curve” – no baseballs involved, but some trouble with curves were involved in the making of this MIA period.
Greetings to whoever reads this missive. I sincerely hope YOU are enjoying life on planet Earth.
I shall now attempt to catch up. It’s got to be easier than catching a fly ball to right field.
Or maybe not.
Hmmmmm.
Choose your own reading adventure about Gov. Nixon’s efforts to defund the public library system:
Okay if you want a nice and polite run down of what’s going on with $6 Million in funds for the public libraries in Missouri — visit this lively link to Chris Arnone’s piece at BookRiot:
Missouri teens got a real fact check in how politicians operate and how much they rate on the Missouri Governor’s value scale on March 18, 2015 when the Governor’s staff lied to them about the governor being out-of-state and threatened to have them escorted out of their offices by State Troopers. You can read all about that shindig at BookRiot.
If you’re pressed for time, Chris Arnone has these suggestions for voicing your support for the libraries without threat of State Trooper escort:
Now for the not so nice and not polite reading adventure.
Damn how I love being able to connect with people everywhere via the internet. I’m lucky enough to have my own damn computer and private access that I can use any time I want 24/7. I’m also aware that there are many people in my local area who are not so damn fortunate. I’m reminded of this fact every time I visit the Kansas City, Missouri Public Library and see a fully packed computer room offering access to the internet for people who are not so damn lucky as myself. There’s always a waiting list and there are always people waiting for their online time. Many of them are looking for employment. Someone is always using the computers designated for creating resumes. Others are doing the exact same thing you are right now without giving it a second thought–enjoying surfing the net and flying around in cyberspace. In addition to these people there are those who bring their laptops to take advantage of the wireless access on site. My award wining public library is one damn electronic hot spot.
Why would anyone who values an informed and literate population want to deny people access to electronic information?
Yikes–conspiracy theories abound! 1984 anyone? Hmm? No need to ban books, just deny internet access.
For now I’ll fly with the people who deny access to others are people who prefer an ignorant, uneducated, uniformed bunch of dumbed down voters who are easily manipulated and controlled.
Am I suggesting that Missouri Gov. Jay Nixon is this ilk of politician?
Am I?
Well why else would he deny first $2,789,225 million in 2014 library funding then follow that up with withholding all of the state appropriated library funds of 2015 to the tune of $3,109,250 million?
Those funds provide libraries with everything needed for remote electronic access aka the REAL Program.
Imagine your life without your electronic connection–the very one you are enjoying right now as you read this on your internet connection of choice wherever you are.
What the fuck is Gov. Nixon up to with these millions of dollars? Does he have a fundraiser in mind? Who is he paying off?
Maybe his staff would like to monetarily thank the Missouri State Troopers for their on call assistance for escorting NON-professional, NON-corporate lobbyists out of their offices when they come, with appointments, to discuss their concerns about what’s really going on in Nixon’s brainbox?
Perhaps Gov. Nixon just can’t stand teenagers with fully functioning minds enabled by equally concerned adults snooping around the state capital looking for some answers and questioning some “family” values.
Aside: Last week I had some of those nice people who like to share the good word door to door. I told them they should go to the state capital and share their words with those folks. The older gentleman escorting and mentoring the two very clean-cut young whippersnappers practicing their word sharing said, and I quote: “They aren’t interested in listening to us.”
Hmm, according to Arnone over at Book Riot some elected officials were interested in hearing what was on the library supporting teenagers’ minds. I guess those might have been the ones who realize these young people will be voting in a few years and possibly becoming engaged in political issues as adults.
Clearly Gov. Nixon doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what book reading, literate, computer savy teenagers think or do–unless it involves sex education,. Oopsy daisy–can you get that kind of info on the internet? Hell yeah, you can.
Shit! The clock is ticking and I have an event to attend at the local library branch where, in addition to the wonderful group of people who work there, I’ll meet some of the other people who participated in the adult reading program face to face. I’ll come back to cyberspace later–after library hours, in the wee hours of the morning or late at night or in the middle of the day. Any time I want electronic access I’ve got it. Not everyone does. They ONLY get it from the public library.
What are you up to with all those millions that belong to the public libraries, not just the big ones but the little ones too where someone is searching for everything libraries offer in this electronic age, Gov. Jay Nixon? Hmm? Nothing good, says my cynical mind, nothing good at all.
Please share the word about this monetary crisis threatening the public libraries in Missouri via your electronic devices and favorite social media vices. You don’t have to live in Missouri to share the information. Heads up, your public library funds may be on the funnel tunnel to somewhere else too–if they haven’t already gone done that pipe.
Visit the Kansas City Public Library at http://www.kclibrary.org/ to get a gander of what they’re doing soooo very very right.
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Monologue #1
December 9, 2016 at 2:39 am (creative writing, entertainment, humor, random, Uncategorized, Writing)
Tags: commentary, humor, monologue, Writing
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