Veterans' Day Memories

I don't know if I ever told my children about the time when I returned from Korea. This was after spending almost a year there when we were told we'd be able to get out in 6 months. The winters were killers, 50 below was not unusual several days in February. We packed up and moved to a place called ASCOM City in late March '55. I have no rememberance of what ASCOM meant, but it was some acronym for those leaving the country. We stayed there for almost 10 days and did nothing except get inspected by the UN "peace keepers" who came from those wondrous "neutral" countries like Czechoslovakia and Poland and Hungary (I think those were the countries chosen because every country in the "west" had been in Korea to kick the NK army out of South Korea and then the Chinese after that. The UN, even under the marvelous leaders like Dag Hamerskold, had no choice except them or Russians. UGH!) In any case, we were inspected so that we did not take any weapons or military hardware out that had not been accounted for. They inspected us three times, and that was our duffle bags. The tents in which we stayed were checked, sometimes twice a day and sometimes not at all. So, on April 1, we boarded what was called a leighter, a flat barge with no motor, made of what I thought of as pallets, with a "railing" of hauser rope (big stuff like 1" in diameter), and towed by some scow out to the ship in which we would return CONUS (continental United States). 13 days aboard this big grey damn thing and we finally were at the harbor of San Diego. There were almost 3,000 Marines. We lined the railing and watched as we got closer and closer to the dock. As we pulled up, and it was very very slow doing so, there happened to be a navy band on the dockside. 10 bandmembers, at the most. They appeared to be rather bored with the task. They played 5 or 6 tunes. All were Sousa marches. They even played the Marine Corps Hymn. After the last of California Here I come, they walked off, not marched of, walked off and we never saw them again. The ship tied up, we walked down the "ladder" and onto the flat earth. Then aboard buses we headed to Camp Pendleton. We'd had, maybe, almost, at most, 10 family or friends meet the 3,000 men. Not a lot of flags flew or signs hoisted. Just a few people waiting for some few of the Marines.
That was the greeting we got.
Veterans Day is important. I am glad I served. I was proud I served. Sometimes I was bored and sometimes I was irritated with the people in charge of me personally and sometimes with the people in charge of my company and sometimes even up stream all the way to the Commandant's office, but never once did I ever regret joining the Marine Corps.
Only one thing left to say about all of this.
SEMPER FI!
OoooRah!

AADD for me

Several years ago, 8 to be exact now that I've checked with my wife, I had a stroke. It was a mild one. Nothing really bad happened. No drooling, no loss of functions to speak of, but I had some co-ordination problems. After working through them with my own therapy, I'm about 90% okay. The problem arose, though, that AADD developed to a small extent. Mistakes occurred usually over little details. Memory loss of what I was thinking of doing (like now, when we got back from the store I was going to ask our neighbor about helping me put up awnings -- he's a contractor -- and didn't do it because I just flat forgot). There are other small bits of loss, but they are, in general not debilitating. NOW, to the story below. Anyone familiar with ADD or AADD knows that part of the symptoms is a time when things go through your brain so fast you will lose connection with the important things. Like the awning business above. However, as a writer, that's not all bad. These ideas and dreams, as it were, will give me thoughts of about something to write. The other day, my dreams were interrupted by the following story. It seemed very real at the time. I was deeply asleep and woke just at the end, where the story ends. This is not all bad, but it does disconcert me as I can often remember bits and pieces. The way you remember a dream is to repeat aloud as soon as you wake. I woke, went into the living room, and talked about it. Two days later it was still real and in my mind. So, no loss there.
Here's my story of my friend Bob and me as we were in my dream.

I got a call from a fellow I knew in the San Diego Police Department. We had discussed his military memorabilia and how anxious he was to get hold of certain items. I found a fellow, a retired elderly Marine from WWII, I know had an American flag which flew over Pelielu. I called my friend and Bob was interested. I really don’t think the old Corps Marine wanted money for it, but he did want someone to have it who could and would care for it.

Two days later, Bob called me on one of his rare days off and came down to San Diego in a car he’d recently bought and wanted to “overhaul” it as they do on TV. He showed up in this behemoth, a ’64 Galaxie Ford with the 427 Big Block with over 360 horsepower, which made the latest models of the Crown Victoria into kiddie cars. The thing looked straight and clean enough and didn’t have any rust to speak of on the outside, but one never knows for sure until it’s apart and inspected more thoroughly. But it had an AWFUL paint color: yellow. I merely shrugged it off and climbed in and told him, “Let’s ’98 to the flag guy.”
He said he had to stop at the bank for some money in case he could persuade the man to take money for the flag. I didn’t argue.
We drove over to Clairemont Mesa Blvd where his bank had a branch next to an essentially oriental food market called Ranch 99.
Bob clipped the bank ATM for a bunch of $20 bills and stuffed them in his hip pocket, writhing in the seat to make them tuck in properly. He had to adjust his seat belt, it was not easy to put anything in a pocket all tethered in like that in a seat belt not made for the car – in the old days it was an option one put in for themselves. This was no different. No shoulder harness, only lap belt. Bob finally seemed to have maneuvered it to make it easier to slide the bills into his jean’s pocket.
We drove to the street and waited a few moments for the west bound traffic to clear out. It did and just as we moved to take the road, I heard and I’m sure we both heard snap snap snap, the unmistakable sound of gunfire. I looked across the street to the driveway between Kearny Mesa Ford and the Mexican restaurant to the east. There was a fellow laying in the drive, bent over, holding his arm. Two men were running toward a vehicle parked nearby, a white one.
Bob ignored the sign in the street that said no U turns no Left turns and drove across to the other side, avoiding the traffic about to leave the red light to the west.
He parked at an angle to the curb, blocking the number 3 lane and the parking strip. He jumped out and ran to the alley. He had his service pistol in his belt, in the back, and was holding it where it was instead of bringing it out.
Just as Bob came to the downed man, blood was clearly on the mans arm and I was sure he’d been shot in the arm, but when it was all cleared, he had been shot in both his right arm as well as his right side. I stayed in the car, not being armed and not wanting to bring only fists and a smile to a gun-fight.
The white car suddenly lurched out of the driveway and into the traffic; with horns blaring from all of the insulted motorists, the white car also defied the signs and went across the center divide and headed west.
Since Bob had come from home I wasn’t sure what to do about calling someone. I had my cell phone, but I knew it was a long way from getting it out, dialing the central number, and getting through quickly; 911 is not much better; but Bob motioned to the car and held his hand to his mouth as if he had something in his hand. I looked around and found he must have taken his radio home and had it with him today; it was in the seat, partially between the cushions.
I picked it up and made sure it was on Dispatch 1 and keyed the mic: “This is Olin Thompson. I’m at the driveway between Kearny Mesa Ford and the buildings to the east. I’m with Robert Rohde, a traffic officer, we are in plain clothes and in a private vehicle. We are at a shooting scene. We’ll need an 11-41, a supervisor, and if you have a couple of free officers that would help as well. Might try to find an RSVP Traffic unit for some traffic direction and control of this shooting scene. And, no, officer Rohde was not a victim nor was he involved in the shooting. I caught the license number of the vehicle which left. Four, two, Paul, Lincoln, Alpha, Sam, Oscar, Charles. Sounds too long for a license number, so it might be just something to cover the plate. There were two WMAs in the front seat. The driver was red headed, longish sort of crew cut; and the passenger was oval faced, short short black hair. Both were in their late teens early twenties, more teen than twenty, though.”
About then I realized I’d hardly taken a breath and was panting.
“The vehicle make and model if you know it,” the dispatcher said,
“Want to go to D two to finish this?” I asked.
“Ten four,” she replied.
I found the switch on the radio and turned one click to Dispatch 2. You wonder how I know this? I was in the RSVPs and we used police radios just like these for all the years I was there until I had to leave for health reasons and I’m still friends with many of the current members. Hard to forget the protocol for talking to Dispatch. They are forgiving of old folks – RSVPs are all over 55 and generally retired, as well they should be.
“Okay,” I said, continuing, “it was a white late ‘80s early ‘90s Pontiac. Had not distinguishing marks. If, you can have a Northern Division officer or two canvas Madison High parking lot, you might find something there, but other than that I lost the car in a crowd of white vehicles going onto the freeway and just didn’t see where they went.”
“I’ll inform CHP and Northern. Anything else?” she asked.
I looked up and Bob was pumping his fist in the air, clearly wanting the 11-41 to expedite. I heard the sirens, several, and nodded. Bob apparently heard them also as he turned back to the injured man.
He called something to me and I got out of the car and went toward him,
“There’s a towel in the back seat,” he said.
I found it, ran close, and tossed it to him. I went to the street to help keep traffic from getting too backed up behind his car. I have an orange vest in my personal car and would use it if I needed to, but Bob didn’t have one with him today, apparently, so I just stood there in my blue shorts and red tee-shirt while I waved people to the left to avoid the yellow monster.
Two patrol cars arrived, the ambulance arrived, and shortly a Sergeant arrived and pulled across the center divide, hooting his horn – we used to call them oogah horns, since they made a horrible loud oogah sounding warning noise when activated. He parked across the drive so no one could encroach on the scene. The 11-41 had parked between the yellow beast and the Sergeant’s car.
They tended to the man and one of the beat officers came to me for a statement. I had seen him before at crashes and collisions I’d been doing traffic direction and control. I told him I would help, but most of it was on tape at the dispatcher’s and he could use that, I’m sure. He nodded, but indicated he needed certain information in any case.
A pastel, an undercover or detectives’ car, drove up and parked in the number three lane just past the driveway and it too blocked some traffic. An RSVP car arrived and they immediately began to put out orange cones and wave people into the number one and two lanes.
I sighed and after the officer wondered if I had thought of anything else and I said I didn’t, he walked to the Sergeant who nodded and waved to me. It was a Sergeant I’d dealt with many times before when I was in RSVPs. He was a good one. A former Marine as well. Lots of us former Marines are in law enforcement and even the RSVPs. We have a commitment to safety for the people we served then and now.
The Northern Division had sent two cars to the high school and I heard them report they found a car matching the description in a parking lot and I had been correct, the license was not visible and behind a ripped off piece of cardboard with 42 on it, and nothing else.
The case was close to being solved and Bob and I were about to be on our way.

As a writer

I've written 18 novels and find them a wonderful way to give my AADD an opportunity to have an outlet. I wake at night and suddenly there's a story in my head. The brain acts out some of these stories and I'm thrilled with the ideas. Sometimes I wait a week or so, but sometimes the next day I start writing.
I woke the other day with the idea of a young African family leaving from The Congo to Cameroon to Nigeria and then taking a boat/ship to Puerto Rico and the son then going to school in New York City. The ideas traveled through my head like a train without any limits to speed.
Then I began to write. It's a pretty good story. I'm working on it now. The problem I will have sooner than later is transfering my white bread up-bringing and, even though I'm liberal minded, the ideas of African-Americans in the US is not something into which I've delved deeply enough, I don't think, to get the essense of the AA life style and choices. Need to wonder and study some.
I was reading a book the other day and wondered why this guy didn't take my Creative Writing class. He needed to learn some things. If any of you are writers, this is for you as well.
Try to make your work timeless. Make the years disappear unless they are for historic references. Don't say, when writing in 2006 that this is the time about which you are writing. Don't say things like you were in Iraq at the time of the war. Don't push the idea that the reader in 2010 will have to go back and re-learn the mistakes of the past to get through to what you are trying to say.
If you merely write, "fifteen years ago I was in school...." Instead of something like, "In 1994 there was this school and a prom and I took this blonde girl to the dance and..., blah blah blah." 1994 is over and gone. Maybe by the time this person reads it there will be other things more than proms. Drive in restaurants are no longer the event in life they were 30-40 years ago.
Try to eliminate the dates and just write something the reader can relate to recently. Don't put a person in the Vietnam war if he's 40. As this is written, a guy from the VN war would likely be at least 50+ years old. Many of the old timers who served there would be in their 60s or 70s even. And that's today.
Timeless gives you the opportunity for your reader to make up his/her own timeline.
If, however you Must put times in, then do it so it becomes relative to the story by historical standards. You can talk about the Civil War and that's historical enough. Or the Old West. Or WWI. Those are good things to write about, but you better do your research or else the reader will discount your writing as balderdash if you talk about vehicles which were not made until after your timeline.
Just some musing that goes through my feeble brain in the middle of the night.
And during the day at work when very little happens.
I work because I love being productive. I have a job which requires I do so little as to be nothing. And they pay me to do nothing. No, it's not security. Did that when I retired from my own business. Thought it would be interesting. Not. I just hated almost every minute. Then I retired again and started writing. Now I'm working once more so we can have those little fun things we usually deny ourselves. I keep my job because my boss likes two things about me. One: my personality which is outgoing and I can talk about almost anything to anyone. Two: I show up every day and know exactly what I need to do -- which is pretty much nothing.
My wife likes her job too. We work the same place at different shifts. She works mornings from 9-2 and I work from 2-6. And we both do hardly anything and we get paid to do hardly anything. The owner of the property, not just my boss, said he likes our work and is glad they finally got someone there who is good with the people.
Enough for today. More another day.

As a writer

I've written 13 novels and find them a wonderful way to give my AADD an opportunity to have an outlet. I wake at night and suddenly there's a story in my head. The brain acts out some of these stories and I'm thrilled with the ideas. Sometimes I wait a week or so, but sometimes the next day I start writing.
I woke the other day with the idea of a young African family leaving from The Congo to Cameroon to Nigeria and then taking a boat/ship to Puerto Rico and the son then going to school in New York City. The ideas traveled through my head like a train without any limits to speed.
Then I began to write. It's a pretty good story. I'm working on it now. The problem I will have sooner than later is transfering my white bread up-bringing and, even though I'm liberal minded, the ideas of African-Americans in the US is not something into which I've delved deeply enough, I don't think, to get the essense of the AA life style and choices. Need to wonder and study some.
I was reading a book the other day and wondered why this guy didn't take my Creative Writing class. He needed to learn some things. If any of you are writers, this is for you as well.
Try to make your work timeless. Make the years disappear unless they are for historic references. Don't say, when writing in 2006 that this is the time about which you are writing. Don't say things like you were in Iraq at the time of the war. Don't push the idea that the reader in 2010 will have to go back and re-learn the mistakes of the past to get through to what you are trying to say.
If you merely write, "fifteen years ago I was in school...." Instead of something like, "In 1994 there was this school and a prom and I took this blonde girl to the dance and..., blah blah blah." 1994 is over and gone. Maybe by the time this person reads it there will be other things more than proms. Drive in restaurants are no longer the event in life they were 30-40 years ago.
Try to eliminate the dates and just write something the reader can relate to recently. Don't put a person in the Vietnam war if he's 40. As this is written, a guy from the VN war would likely be at least 50+ years old. Many of the old timers who served there would be in their 60s or 70s even. And that's today.
Timeless gives you the opportunity for your reader to make up his/her own timeline.
If, however you Must put times in, then do it so it becomes relative to the story by historical standards. You can talk about the Civil War and that's historical enough. Or the Old West. Or WWI. Those are good things to write about, but you better do your research or else the reader will discount your writing as balderdash if you talk about vehicles which were not made until after your timeline.
Just some musing that goes through my feeble brain in the middle of the night.
And during the day at work when very little happens.
I work because I love being productive. I have a job which requires I do so little as to be nothing. And they pay me to do nothing. No, it's not security. Did that when I retired from my own business. Thought it would be interesting. Not. I just hated almost every minute. Then I retired again and started writing. Now I'm working once more so we can have those little fun things we usually deny ourselves. I keep my job because my boss likes two things about me. One: my personality which is outgoing and I can talk about almost anything to anyone. Two: I show up every day and know exactly what I need to do -- which is pretty much nothing.
My wife likes her job too. We work the same place at different shifts. She works mornings from 9-2 and I work from 2-6. And we both do hardly anything and we get paid to do hardly anything. The owner of the property, not just my boss, said he likes our work and is glad they finally got someone there who is good with the people.
Enough for today. More another day.

Just flat fed up

I know it's not a good thing to discuss politics or religion, but I'm just fed the hell up with some things. Brain dead and full of advice from reactionary types, this political season will suddenly emerge as one of the worst ever for this country. And, of course, the religions are no better.
With the atmosphere now, we'd likely never have any of the human rights or the religious freedoms we strived for so many years to achieve. Can you think of a less likely candidate for Human Rights leader than someone like Ralph Reed or Trent Lott or that Priebus fellow? They talk big, but they end up with the same old mantra, "We didn't do it that way in the 'old days.'" You know what? That might be what's wrong with us now. The "old days." Nothing succeeds like success, but then what was the success? It was the commercial ventures of the likes of Rockefeller and Vanderbilts and those others who fleeced this country and it's people of their valuable resources. They drained the oil, they stip mined, they built one huge megalopolis on top of another until the streams and mountains are now freeways and flattened to provide for another shopping mall. We drove out of cities and wondered just how long it would be before another housing development would rise on those wonderous rolling hills with the verdancy and natural beauty, homes to untold creatures and they didn't do anything to make us so mad as to tear down their nests or resting places. What did they do to make, oh, I see, they occupied otherwise useful land.
The politics were in place, so the greedy, the corrupt, and the damn fools took money from developers and land rapers and let them do anything they liked.
Now you've got me started.
The religious right has taken away any semblance of letting me do with my faith, or lack of it, my belief or lack of it, as I damn well please. Keep in mind, faith has been defined as belief not based on facts.
For instance, a belief is not a religion, no matter what that stupid fool said in the newspaper last week, claiming atheists' bleif's made them a religion. I believe I'll have a beer. That makes my beer bottle a religion? I think not. I believe I'll have another try at the Lotto.
You get the idea, so I won't belabor the point.
That there is faith is a good thing for many people, but it can't be sustained for a long period of time. No, it can't. If you disbelieve that, then tell me why there are now more religions than ever before. Is it because of sustained belief? Or is it because they can't sustain that belief and have to change to another thought/faith to maintain their religion? I suggest it isn't the faith, but that driving desire to have one that soon becomes just another frantic effort and fails to satisfy their need.
The politics of any Republican Administration are all rehashes of old news late '60s crap. This "privatization of Social Security" has been told over and over again, and only a few really believe it is possible. My grandparents lived in an age of privatization and died poor. My grandmother thought FDR was a Communist, but every month she cashed that $90 check she got each month for all her years and years of work -- she worked until just before she died of tuberculosis. She got TB and, because there was no union to force the issue of health care on the work place, she had to live with it for as long as she could. Didn't. Died. Medicare wasn't available yet, but I'm sure I would have heard how horrible it was.
The real truth is that faith based assistance is just that. Those who need it have to have faith that the assistance will come. Then it doesn't and they are not at all surprised. Faith based almost always, not almost, ALWAYS, leads greedy and crooked people to come along with charismatic words of how they will, but they WILL only take the money and run.
I have more to say, but for now, I'll just let you know that as I grow older and, I hope, somewhat more well informed, I have no faith, no religion, and no belief there is much left for this country to absorb except we change. The right would have us believe the left is not capable of making the country better. Gee, what about the left and those vacations? The 5 day work week? Overtime pay? Why are we able to have reasonable laws regarding clean air? How about retirement income? Damn fool left wingers, those liberal dupes, they caused all this to happen.
The ruin of the middle class is coming unless the left, the liberals, rise up and say, "ENOUGH!" It has to happen. I hope it does. If it doesn't, I won't be here much longer and I won't have to see it.
Thankfully,
0

Just flat fed up

I know it's not a good thing to discuss politics or religion, but I'm just fed the hell up with some things. Brain dead and full of advice from reactionary types, this political season will suddenly emerge as one of the worst ever for this country. And, of course, the religions are no better.
With the atmosphere now, we'd likely never have any of the human rights or the religious freedoms we strived for so many years to achieve. Can you think of a less likely candidate for Human Rights leader than someone like Ralph Reed or Trent Lott? They talk big, but they end up with the same old mantra, "We didn't do it that way in the 'old days.'" You know what? That might be what's wrong with us now. The "old days." Nothing succeeds like success, but then what was the success? It was the commercial ventures of the likes of Rockefeller and Vanderbilts and those others who fleeced this country and it's people of their valuable resources. They drained the oil, they stip mined, they built one huge megalopolis on top of another until the streams and mountains are now freeways and flattened to provide for another shopping mall. We drove out of cities and wondered just how long it would be before another housing development would rise on those wonderous rolling hills with the verdancy and natural beauty, homes to untold creatures and they didn't do anything to make us so mad as to tear down their nests or resting places. What did they do to make, oh, I see, they occupied otherwise useful land.
The politics were in place, so the greedy, the corrupt, and the damn fools took money from developers and land rapers and let them do anything they liked.
Now you've got me started.
The religious right has taken away any semblance of letting me do with my faith, or lack of it, my belief or lack of it, as I damn well please.
For instance, a belief is not a religion, no matter what that stupid fool said in the newspaper last week, claiming atheists' bleif's made them a religion. I believe I'll have a beer. That makes my beer bottle a religion? I think not. I believe I'll have another try at the Lotto. You get the idea, so I won't belabor the point.
That there is faith is a good thing for many people, but it can't be sustained for a long period of time. No, it can't. If you disbelieve that, then tell me why there are now more religions than ever before. Is it because of sustained belief? Or is it because they can't sustain that belief and have to change to another thought/faith to maintain their religion? I suggest it isn't the faith, but that driving desire to have one that soon becomes just another frantic effort and fails to satisfy their need.
The politics of this Republican Administration are all rehashes of old news late '60s crap. This "privatization of Social Security" has been told over and over again, and only a few really believe it is possible. My grandparents lived in an age of privatization and died poor. My grandmother thought FDR was a Communist, but every month she cashed that $90 check she got for all her years and years of work -- she worked until just before she died of tuberculosis. She got TB and, because there was no union to force the issue of health care on the work place, she had to live with it for as long as she could. Didn't. Died.
The real truth is that faith based assistance is just that. Those who need it have to have faith that the assistance will come. Then it doesn't and they are not at all surprised. Faith based almost always, not almost, ALWAYS, leads greedy and crooked people to come along with charismatic words of how they will, but they WILL only take the money and run.
I have more to say, but for now, I'll just let you know that as I grow older and, I hope, somewhat more well informed, I have no faith, no religion, and no belief there is much left for this country to absorb except we change. The right would have us believe the left is not capable of making the country better. Gee, what about the left and those vacations? The 5 day work week? Overtime pay? Why are we able to have reasonable laws regarding clean air? How about retirement income? Damn fool left wingers, those liberal dupes, they caused all this to happen.
The ruin of the middle class is coming unless the left, the liberals, rise up and say, "ENOUGH!" It has to happen. I hope it does. If it doesn't, I won't be here much longer and I won't have to see it.
Thankfully,
0

same old crowd -- part II, deux, svei, ni, dos, two

The new mayor has said he would get rid of that "old crowd" and then promptly popped up with the "old boys and girls club" list of people with whom he will entrust the city while he is off on junkets to various places for, as he puts it, to get monies and grants for things with which to run the city.
Gee, what a concept.
Leave the new hires, with HUGE paychecks in charge of the city to do almost anything they want and then leave.
If things don't work, the neo-con mayor can say "it wasn't my fault. I was elsewhere."
Would you be surprised if that happened?
Nor I.
Now we find, wonder of wonders, the city has chosen another Republican to dish the plate up for various and sundry special interest groups. We were warned, at least I tried, but it appears the warning went unheeded. The last GREAT mayor we had was Frank Curran. After that a series of inept and unqualified people without credentials who had power in mind and money in hand.
Notice how former City Manager McGrory got a nice job with the Chargers? Gee, after making a splendid contract with them and then out of office when his mayoresse left, he was hired by, alas, those same Chargers.
Golly, how did that happen?
In any case, here is the warning. Not chicken little and the sky is falling, but if we continue this Republican neo-con attitude to run the city government, we, voters all, get exactly what we deserve.
To be cheated.
Thanks for reading.

Crisis of trust and responsibility

Seems that San Diego has a crisis.
The new mayor is merely a rehash of the old mayors of the past 4 years. One Republican after another has ruined this city.
We had a couple of good ones, Frank Currin who almost single handedly pushed the Mission Bay project that has turned out to be a beautiful place to play, take a family, and enjoy wonderful days in the sunshine.
The other was Maureen O'Connor who ran a tight ship, balanced the budgets, and didn't let her Chief of Staff run the city while she pondered the next color of lipstick or fingernail polish and wondered if her husband would spend how many years in jail -- Susan Golding did that.
So, now, after Golding and Murphy, Jerry Sanders -- a really nice guy who proclaims his administration will be free of graft, corruption, and horrible indecencies -- promises to balance the budget, clear up a retirement scheme mess, and not raise taxes unless as a last resort.
Well, now, this is the same guy who railed, ranted, and raved that his opponent was a taxer, waster, and flawed because she topped her retirement (later refuted it and attempted to return it to the city, but without any luck as the city attorney said she couldn't do that) fund.
You have to realize that Jerry Sanders is already sucking retirement funds from the city and, on top of that, did the DROP program where he put in more money than the pittance sucked from his pay check and added it to his later income as a retired Chief of Police.
How cute.
Well, bud, you can't have it both ways, ie., you can't bitch about Donna Frye and then suck the well dry. So, here's to you, lad, you'll be just like all the other Republicans who have, essentially ruined the city.
How about ole Roger Hedgecock and the Yellow Cab scandal? He was convicted of a felony; a jury of his peers said so. Shortly after, something clever in some lawyer's mind made the connection that needed to be made to cause a technicality to get him off. My goodness, this is the same Rodger Hedgecock with a black belt in "mouth" who spouts off about criminals getting let go because of slime bag lawyers. My good man, that's terrible of you to pander to both sides of the street.
So, the Replubicans, yep, I know I spelled it that way, have taken the reigns.
Again.
Stand by for another jab in the ribs.
These people really know how to screw up a budget, after all, they learned it from the Freidman school of economics: stuff it to the people and take all you can. Works for corporations, why not for politicians?
There is my rant for today.
Enjoy the weekend.
Just remember our men and women over seas in a war which was pushed forward with flawed information and pick and chose points of real or imagined threats to get support from both sides of the Congress of the United States.
The war is nothing to brag about, but the men and women there are truly heroes and need to have our support.
Love them and wish them home soon.
Olin