Re-establishing Link

Once upon a time, in this very place, I published my life. It was moiratoner.com, and it was my publicly personal sandbox, playground, refrigerator door and window into the world of me.  It was a personal expression made public as a side-effect of publishing practicalities.

As I descended into the purification ritual known as The Great Recession, moiratoner.com disappeared.  Went dark.  Was silenced. Put on ice.  Like a cryogenic corpse, no one, not even the corpus that gave the corpse its previous life, knew its future.  Might the corpus survive to revive the corpse? If revived, might it be fresh and beautiful to behold or a distended, freezer-burned mutilation?

Today, I flipped the switch to thaw.  The account is re-established, and at this moment servers are replicating my default password change.  Attempts so far to fibrillate via ftp have failed.  I am standing down to allow settings to sync.  Paddles are recharging.

With each failed attempt to transfer data from the cold storage of my hard drive to the placental cloud of web wonderland, I resist the compulsion to start changing the look, feel and content of the corpse. I do truly want to see it revived as it was.  I want to see me as I was.

It was 2009.  Was that so very long ago?  Financially, emotionally, experientially, yes.  It was several lifetimes ago.  Two years ago, I was an innocent. A child. Unbroken. Whole. I had not passed through the Dark Night of the Soul.  I had not loved again.  I had not been brought to my knees by lack. I had not been chastised for my circumstances. I did not know fear.

In 2009, I thought I had done all of that.  I had not.  It was yet to come.

Through all that came, I kept only one vow--to free myself of anything that might be stripped away, except my integrity.

When the object of their chastisement was humiliation, I denied them their victory.  I met their attempts to shame me with anger, and turned anger's flame toward my dark corners to see boldly what fear made me vulnerable to their attempts to send me lower than a snake's belly and grind me into less than dust.

When the object of his anger was fear, I denied him my pain. I met his attempts to cower me with anger, and turned anger's flame toward my dark corners to see boldly what fear made me vulnerable to his attempts to break my spirit, drink the joy from my bones and turn my heart back into a husk.

In every dark corner I found Truth.  Integrity's demand, desire and drive for Truth ripped and slashed through every shrieking, shielding fear to reveal Truth.

Fear is nothing to fear when armed with Integrity--the lightening rod for Truth.  And Integrity stills all fears of all Truths.

Truth can indeed set you free.  It is the light hidden by fear.  Fear is a boogeyman.  An illusion.  A myth we believe because the truth may be more frightening than the fear itself.  Integrity is the weapon that can drive light into fear, and keep us ultimately safe and whole on the road to freedom.

That's where I've been.  I never left, and I don't know if I'm back.

Clear!  

Attitude of Gratitude (12-Pack Guarantee)

There’s a few sayings that inspired this song.  “The pen is mightier than the sword.” “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”  “God, don’t grant me luck, grant me timing.” Well, those and many more like them are all true, no doubt.  Maybe there’s a slogan that sums it up best.  That’s why I call this number,

Attitude of Gratitude (or 12-pack Guarantee)

I know and love his heart and his integrity

My time with him I took the bitter with the sweet

I love his heart, his soul his life

And I pity his new wife

She’s a walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

He’s a good man like my daddy showed could be

When he wants to be the man he wants to be

He chose Bud Light over me

That’s when I refused to be

His walkin’ talkin’ 12 pack guarantee

Now I’m not being mean, that woman surely knows

From her tipsy frosted head down to her toes

It’s her job at Dairy Queen            

That fills his Jeep with gasoline     
She pays the trailer rent and light
The neighbors’ cars wake ‘em up at night
Her job’s a walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

His Gifts of Venus can make any woman gasp

But barley brews keep it lowered to half mast

On the night they’re newly wed    

She’ll need the bunny in her bed
She’ll need more than a broom
To get the groom outta his own room
She’s just his walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

[Slowly, with great feeling, like a hymn or gospel song…]

Now we’ve both said all there is to be said

To our waters we have both been surely led

He married beer and bread and board

Now it’s half his says the law and Lord

He’s got his walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

I may have gone from debutante to double wide

That never hurt my love for me, just my pride

I miss the good man at my side

So strong and safe, he was my guide

But I’m no walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

She’s his walkin’ talkin’ ice cream hawkin’
Bet my talkin’s set her sister squakin’

Better her than me…
She’s his walkin’ talkin’ 12 pack guarantee


Copyright 2011 Moira A Toner 

How to communicate with The Recessed: Humor

Let's say your friend, Bob, is recently widowed.  Today, you heard a great joke that has to do with husbands and wives.  Tonight, Bob calls you on the phone.  Do you share with him the joke you heard today? Of course not.


Please extend the same courtesy to The Recessed.  It may require a bit of forethought on your part since topics painful to The Recessed are not as sharply defined as those recently widowed, divorced, separated, etc.  I'm not going to attempt to list all of the topics, you're going to have to listen to The Recessed in your world and answer that one yourself.  I will, however, share an experience that illustrates the point.


One recent evening, my mind, body, soul and cat were firmly in the crucible's grip.  My water was being shut off the next day, which to my mind meant tomorrow might be the day I have to leave my home.  In other words, it was Homelessness Eve.  That night, I was talking on the phone with a friend and I cracked.  She said something along the lines of "Don't give up" and snapped about not having anything more to try and that in my world giving up meant death so of course I can't give up, and how about saying something useful.  I hung up on her.  OK, maybe my response was understandable all things considered.  It was still inappropriate and sub-consciously an attempt to pass on or force sharing of responsibility for my crap.


The next day, we communicated and forgave via the safety of written words.  Immediately following her first written response to me, she sent an email with the subject line "FW: Piss Poor."  I suspected it was one of her scorpion stings (not a criticism, we all have our natural and good defenses), so I did not look at it until the next day.  Sure enough, it was one of those "funny" emails that has been forwarded ad nauseum, this one was about the origins of common phrases and the first several were about being poor.  Apparently being "piss poor" comes from people who were so poor they saved/collected urine and sold it to tanneries.


I have a good sense of humor, and since my sense of my friend had me hold a day on reading the email, I was in a better frame of mind and was ready for the humor.  I was not ready for the scorpion's tail which read, "I can't help it, it had to do with water..."  This told me she knew fine full and well that it was inappropriate, and that the words she forwarded, if read, were going to hurt, offend, rub salt into the wound or otherwise inflict pain.  They did.  In the context of forgiveness, I wrote back "I'm selling.  Who's buying?"  It was my best attempt at an appropriately humorous response that did not acknowledge the pain, feed my shame or dishonor the forgiveness we had already transacted.  


My take-away was that I had hurt or frightened her on a very deep core level, and that level felt it necessary to return the favor despite the higher road of forgiveness we'd already taken.  No problem.  Understood.  We're human and that's what we do.  I commit to learning more about how I hurt people so that I can do it less. 


Post-it take-aways for you: 

• If you aren't certain if it will offend, don't.
• If you hesitate before clicking "Send," don't.  
• If you do it anyway, own the result.

Suggested Alternative: Instead, ask "Are you ready for a bit of humor about your situation?" or something of the sort.

HuffPost perspective that changed my mind

This post by Arianna Huffington changed my mind. I'm on the cusp of foreclosure and homelessness. I do not have children, and during angry moments I have railed against rules, procedures and people that grant resource preference to men/women with children. And the elderly.  And veterans. And college grads.  You get the idea.  Easy to do when anger rules the moment.  This post delivers needed dimension and reminds me that yes, by my nature and choice I will--without hesitation--step aside for any child's benefit and step between any threat to any child.

One comment on mediation (topic in linked post). Great idea, great program, I'm sure. My mortgage company's attorney offered me a conciliation conference call which my (nonexistent) lawyer could join.  There's a big difference between mediation and conciliation. Or arbitration for that matter. All necessitate legal representation. I do not have $2K to give to an attorney. This is a civil matter, so I am not entitled to legal representation under the constitution. Do Gov-funded mediation programs offer legal assistance to mortgagees? If not, is it right that we don't, given that mortgagees tend to be the very people that are building our community?  Just a thought.

NIMBYs vs. NoMBYs

Forum response to Sacramento's mayor to keep pushing for homeless campground

I have a sneaking suspicion the real fuel for this forum's angst is fear.  No one wants to face how easily NIMBYs have become NoMBYs (No More Back Yard).  No one can miss it, either.

The self-serving comments in this forum serve no one. Forget asking what happened to humanity/human kindness.  What about critical thinking? Common sense? Sigh.

New Rule: Present problems with solutions.
New Rule: Balance criticism with contribution.

Here's mine. Once upon a time (Regan era) my grandmother educated me on the "poor houses" of her own and prior generations. Not a PC term by today's standards. As she explained it there was a poor house on the outskirts of most towns. No one wanted to live there, but when the need arose the roof was there. The community directed resources to poor houses, and hired labor from them. Town secular and civic interests provided stewardship.

I'm sure the solution was far from ideal.  By her first-hand experience, my grandmother described it as an ongoing solution for an issue that has been around since the dawn of human economy. Solution for today? Doubtful. Experience to harvest? Absolutely. What other knowledge is sitting

Gibran wrote "And before you leave the market place, see that no one has gone his way with empty hands.  For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind til the needs of the least of you are satisfied."  It's good business, good for the economy.

My Latest Mortgage Hardship Letter

28 July 2010

[addressee and account information redacted for web publication] 

Dear Ms. XXXX

I purchased my home the afternoon of October 31^st, 1999.  Its condition was worse than the worst of “Hoarders” but it was structurally sound.  And at least, as of Halloween 1999, it was empty of everything but my desire for a home.  So I went out that afternoon and quickly purchased a few decorations, luminaries, candles, and a small truckload of candy.  I managed to get everything in place before the first trick-or-treaters toddled up my driveway, and over the course of that evening I met my neighbors.  They had no idea the place had sold.  They were thrilled, and I discovered that while I purchased a house, I had indeed found my heart’s desire—a home. 

I made that purchase entirely on my own with money I earned and saved.  Since then, as you know, our country has experienced one the biggest housing market crashes in history. This, combined with unemployment and rising costs has affected my ability to pay my bills on time. 

I am a poster child for this economic recession in every way.  With this letter and the enclosures, I’ll share the details.  In short, I am now 47, I’ve never married, I have no children, and my only remaining family is a sister near Chicago.  I want you to know that my home is my foundation—my underpinning—and as such has a place of significance in my life that I do not want to lose. 

In the past two years, I have pulled out of foreclosure twice.  My mortgage was current in December.  I will do it again, and it will hold.  I am fighting every day to recover in every way.  It is my absolute intention to save and keep my home.  The only missing ingredient is immediate money.  It will come back, and I look to every day as the day of turnaround.

Thank you for this opportunity to re-present my financial situation to PHH.  My past attempts were fruitless.  Last fall, when I was working in a hotel laundry room, I didn’t make enough to qualify for loan modification.  By the time that job ended, I became unemployed and re-applied for the PHH unemployment forbearance program, the program had.  I wish I were in a position to say something significant has changed, and I remain hopeful that tomorrow will be the day.

Ms. XXXX, I don’t know what all of the options or topics are right now.  I do know that if you want to secure your investment value in this house—my home—your best bet is me.  Your forms and my financial details are enclosed with this letter. I truly appreciate any effort you can make to help me get to the other side of this situation with my home intact.

Sincerely,

[PII redacted for blog publication] 

Attachment: Financial and Related Considerations: [PII redacted for blog publication]

Second Mortgage, aka my experience with Chase’s home lending scheme (they call it sales): When I refinanced a number of years ago with PHH, my home equity line balance was zero.  I was required to go into the bank to fully close the account.  The loan officer very kindly suggested that I leave it open, since it provided $25K in credit which was great for my credit score and handy for emergencies.  I declined, since I had recently left regular employment to start a micro-business as “time off” from corporate life.  She then strongly encouraged me to keep the credit line open, since my income would be dropping sharply and I might not be able to get it later if I needed it.  I informed her that my income might reach $20K that year if I was lucky, and I had other savings to draw on if the need arose.  She was persuasive, so I agreed to leave the account open.  She then encouraged me to increase the credit line, just in case, and reminded me that there was no cost for having the credit available.  I left that afternoon with the potential for $50K in debt instead of a closed account.  I am accountable; she was doing her job, no question.  Still, I’d love to get my hands on the neck of Chase bank.  

Insurance: I’m not sure what to say about Florida insurance rates.  I can say that as a direct result my foreclosure status my home insurance costs have increased by more than 50%.  I know and understand that abandoned, empty homes are an insurance risk.  And I understand that fiscal irresponsibility creates a higher risk profile for insurers.  Neither of these considerations is true for my situation.  I am living in and maintaining my home.   I am a well educated, experienced professional.  As an employee, my highest rank was Director of a Fortune 500.  As an independent consultant, as recently as 2008, I earned up to $10K per month.  Still, because of the “foreclosure” stamp my insurance costs have skyrocketed. 

Home Value: At this moment, a house that sold for $325K is on the market for $175K.  My home was at one time appraised for $235K, and now I have no real idea.  On a good day, maybe $130K, but given that there are short sales all over my neighborhood it’s hard to say.  I’d be interested to know what your experts say.

Employment: My last self-employment was $10K per month on a 5-month project that ended December 2008.  Since then, I worked for five months in a hotel laundry room and recently enjoyed a temp job with the US Census. It has enabled me to keep lights on, water running and the phone ringing.

Other Sources of Revenue: In 2007, I did secure a great house-sharing tenant. He moved on early ‘09 and I have not yet found a replacement that lasts longer than a few weeks and/or is able to pay.  If you want to hear a great story, ask me to tell you about the “Craig’s List Nightmare.’  I am still looking, relying on my interpersonal network.

Other Benefits as Revenue: I am fully unemployed; I did/do not qualify for unemployment benefits.  I do receive $200 per month in food stamps.  I am both looking for work and working on creating my own work.  Whatever work works works for me. 

Heath Care: One good thing about foreclosure status is that I recently qualified to receive 60 days health care from the Sarasota County Health Department, which allowed me to see a doctor for the first time in three years.  Fortunately, my general health is excellent and I learned that there are no signs of my major concern, hereditary atrial fibrillation which started with 3 immediate family members at age 47.  Whew (for now)!  I was able to get my antidepressant prescription re-written, and am holding steady.  Clinical Depression is a gift I did inherit.  While it has been a factor most of my life, the past four years (possibly because of hormone and or life changes) it has been a critical struggle.  I can provide details on how depression impacted my lifecycle, finances and other responsibilities upon request.

Taxes:  The bad news is that my state of mind/mental health led to a multi-year backlog of IRS filing and payment.  The good news is that filing is current, and my only remaining task is to prepare and file amended prior year returns after reviewing business expenses for qualified itemizations.  The enclosed 2009 1040X shows a significant refund amount due.  The IRS will apply my 2009 refund and unpaid stimulus checks (2) toward payment of prior year income taxes.  As of yesterday afternoon, the IRS had not yet received the 1040X form.  I need to go into the local tax office and give them a copy.  At that point I will get some sort of receipt.   Note:  Quicken waived the charge for my 2009 tax prep software, after I called, explained hardship and asked for help.  Wasn’t that nice?

One question for you: This weekend, your photographer (who did not have a card or any identity to leave me, could only show me a logo taped to the back of his clipboard) took several pictures of one garden area that looked positively awful because it recently been treated with weed killer. Can you tell my why?  I’m hoping that the close-ups he shot are intended to show drought-tolerant garden care, not neglect. 

• If yes, you’ll notice the care I took to treat the weeds surrounding the two succulent varieties that I have been nurturing for 6 months (front of garden plot) and 3 months (back of garden plot), respectively.  It takes 5-7 days for the weed killer to fully work, so he certainly did catch that plot on a bad day! 
• If no, and his photos were instead meant to show property distress, I hope he balanced the bad with the good.  For example, the Crepe Myrtle is putting on a brilliant show of deep magenta blooms this year.  The bougainvillea has come back from an unusually hot and dry spring, not to mention the damage I did when I cut out the oak saplings that had grown out of a stump cut last fall.  The two Dragon Trees (endangered plant species!) have grown from a cutting (little more than a rooted leaf!) to healthy toddlers, and my beach sunflowers have finally taken hold in the emerging butterfly garden.  The Beach Sunflower cuttings, the Porterweed and Passion Vine were the only butterfly garden plants to survive this past winter.  Fortunately last year’s Moss Roses re-seeded themselves all over the place and are beginning to form into a ground cover.   I intended for the Beach Sunflowers to provide ground cover…I think I’ll let the sunflowers and roses battle it own on their own.  

Let Go of the Rosebush.

This slogan is always good advise, and is now the basis of The Rosebush Tour.

There's a bat in my sink

Of course there is, and it makes me smile. You see, it's a few days after Halloween and giving one of my two rubber bats a rinse before giving it to Joey, my five-year-old neighbor on one side.

The other one is already with Jaiden, my five-year-old neighbor on the other side, who pre-empted my gift with the question on the lips of every five-year-old little boy: "Can I have that?" "Of course you can!" was my response. I had premeditated the gift, after all. Jaiden's question simply moved the gifting to before the rinsing. And that is why there's a bat in my sink.

The reason why a bat in my sink is so significant requires a little more telling. You see, those bats are my favorite Halloween decorations. They are pretty realistic looking as long as it is dusk or dark. And before I had to take down the big tree, I used to hang them on fishing line over the sidewalk. They really freaked a couple of trick-or-treating kids (or parents!). This year, I almost worked out a way to attach one to a fishing pole, the same way Bill T of Five Houses fame makes his bats fly and his trick-or-treaters scream.

So the bats are my favorite Halloween decorations, and Halloween is my favorite holiday. Never more so than here, in my Paulstan Court neighborhood, among my Paulstan Court Neighbors.

Why? First, I closed on my home on Halloween '99. The very first thing I did after the ink was dry was a mad dash to the grocery store for candy and then the party store where I picked up a few decorations and luminaria. The fact that my house was lit and open for Halloween business for the first time in years did more to connect me to this neighborhood than any other gesture might have done. And the beauty of it is that wasn't even my intention!

Second, as I learned that first year, our street has one heck of a reputation. It's one of those streets that attracts carloads of costumed kids in addition to the locals. And it's not because we hand out the best stuff or the most stuff. It's because we're consistently welcoming, and we're an old-fashioned kind of real neighborhood. No snowbirds, so most everyone is home, and it's not too far between driveways. Lots of kids get a big payload in a short time...a parent's dream!

So with all that said, why give the bats to the boys? It's simple. This is likely my last year in my little home. I have no recourse or remedy to foreclosure in sight. It was a bit tempting to just hole up and turn out the lights this year. Instead, I put out a few extra candles, invited Joey's grandmother to dress up with me and hand out candy, sat back an enjoyed the evening.

And it was a truly magical night. The veil between me and the departed was translucent. They more effortlessly and completely surrounded me. The veil between the path behind me and the mystery before me was transparent, and not at all scary. With one foot on each side of this life's next divide, I found an evening's peace. I have that night, Halloween 09, to take with me as I step forward into the mystery.

In my imagination, Joey and Jaiden are playing together next October, sharing Halloween stuff, and discover that they both have the same black rubber bat. One says, "I got mine from Moira. She used to live next door." And the other says, "Me too!" As my unseen fairy dust sprinkles down upon these two wonderful boys, their friendship is bonded and they run around with their bats looking for people to scare. If you find yourself the object of their black rubber scare tactics, please scream bloody murder (the louder you scream, the harder they'll laugh), then laugh with them, and know it's all part of the plan.

I write like

James Joyce

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The Public Option: We're Fearing the Wrong Thing PLUS Fun with Forums

[For full context on my response, please see the Op-Ed "We're Fearing the Wrong Thing" by Waldo Proffitt, former editor of the Sarasota-Herald-Tribune, published September 09.]

My response to the Op-Ed:

Bullseye! Yes, there are valid fears where health care reform is concerned. Those valid, rational fears are inaction and failure to change. As significant as today's issues and obstacles are, Waldo brilliantly (and with great heart) points out that our moment is in fact proactive.

Please, everyone. Let's maintain rational, informed debate. Let's acknowledge legitimate fears, resolve contributing issues and remove obstacles to our shared interests in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Let's also remember that democracy is not possible without a healthy, educated populace. Our current condition undermines the current and future states of our democracy, and hands a significant competitive advantage to every entity that operates outside the US borders.

Most of all, let's not fear hearing both sides of any debate or walking in anothers' shoes. As long as we retain those abilities, we retain our humanity.

Moira

Reader Response to My Response:

Dear Mothra, As a relative newcomer to this [Sarasota Herald-Tribune] Readers Forum, it's my observation after two months and about 20 posts that your appeal to engage in a rational, informed debate may amount to whistling in the wind.

While [Sarasota Herald-Tribune] seems to recruit dozens of new members every day and attracts hundreds of routine readers, only a handful of self-proclaimed experts on everything dominate the "debate"...There seems to be little balance, less listening and virtually no dialogue...Until the hundreds of readers now content to watch from the sidelines begin to chime in, the few blowhards will continue to dominate--and this will remain a [Sarasota Herald-Tribune] forum in name only.

My Response to Reader Response:

Another bullseye. My expectations for healthy discussion in this forum are less than zero, and my expectations are consistently met. Still, once in a great while, I am compelled to chum the waters with intelligence, fact-based analysis, compassion and even optimism.

May I share? A friend commented via email on what appears to be my optimism. He included one a timeless Barnum quote, "No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public" He added, "The problem is that a majority of the American public...respond to cutesy slogans and outrageous statements rather than rational argument." I must agree that this has become the American Way and our brand abroad.

Am I optimistic? A victim of rose glasses? No. I am a realist who has managed to retain sanity by retaining a sense of humor. As I replied to my Barnum-quoting friend, "...the health care riot warm-ups we've seen here and around more than underscore the complete willingness of American publics, with few exceptions, to consume the carnival's sweetest, fluffiest, most colorful and cheapest cotton candy, no matter how bug-infested or bacteria-ridden, and in complete ignorance of consequences beyond immediate gratification. I have never more before wanted to take my other passport and FLEE. The only thing keeping me here is the desperate hope that I might get selected to sit on a Death Panel. THEN we'll see some solutions."

Thank you for reading, and your rational response ; )

Destination Unknown

Well, folks, it's official: the foreclosure process on my home has begun. It will be a while before paperwork starts flying, and the local estimate on the duration of the entire process is six months to two years. The advent of foreclosure has triggered few decisions regarding this heartbreaking turn of events.

• I have detached the timeline of my life from that of the foreclosure process
• I will leave Sarasota, destination (currently) unknown
• I am chronicling this experience, along with the parallel and tangential lines of my life experiences, in this space

My intention and goal is to write, so it can legitimately be said that I have turned this turn of events into an opportunity for serving my own needs and wants, i.e. If I'm going to be homeless, I might as well fulfill the long-held fantasy of disconnecting from what is comfortable, wandering on a grand Walkabout adventure, and chronicling the experiences and observations of a recovering bourgeois.

I might as well admit that another great desire might be fulfilled via piggybacking this adventure. For years, I have wanted to hole myself away for three months somewhere that I cannot be found, other than by an informed and vital few. I call it the 90 Day Solution. The purpose is writing and listening, with the hope of gaining the self-knowledge and serenity required to pursue my highest and best purpose with the full force of my being. Is my sister's home in Kenosha my hermitage? Was the cost of my hermitage my sister's life? Or is the hermitage payment for my sister's death? Of course, there's the possibility that there is no course or recourse, just circumstance.

You are welcome to join me in whatever way suits you: observation, participation, question or not at all. Here's to self-knowledge...Chin-Chin!

Published by Sarasota Indymedia March 09

Civil Disobedience Stirs in Sarasota

Did you see this SH-T Forum posting on Sarasota tent cities? http://forums.heraldtribune.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/3941081465/m/7431051858?r=5771076068#5771076068

The author’s expressed wish has come true: public words have sparked public dialog. In turn, public dialog has revealed much more.

First, the open comments in response to the forum contribution illustrate a sharp divide in both opinion and insight on the very timely topic of Sarasota-based economic refugees. Those with glib or even snide responses are legitimate contributors, yet I can't help note that they are woefully under-informed and mercifully inexperienced on this matter. The majority of people who are living in existing Sarasota and Bradenton tent cities (both open and secret) are average, normal and responsible people who experienced many months of household budget cuts: Cable, telephone, AC/heat, beer and other luxuries are long gone by the time a tent city becomes a viable and even desirable option. The details of their stories may differ; the broad strokes are similar.

Second, the prospect of a Sarasota tent city is a top-of-mind topic among Sarasota’s Limousine Liberals. I attended the DESC annual fundraiser last night, and over the $8 cocktail that preceded my $100 plate I learned that a Sarasota tent city is being considered or planned. A little bit of Googling this morning added healthy flesh to the subject’s bones and led to this response. (Please note that I am no Limousine Liberal, and am circling the event horizon of foreclosure myself. At this point, $108 is not going to make or break my outcome and it was well invested in learning the mood, dialog, and priorities of self-proclaimed difference-makers.)

The gift of public discourse on the local ravages of our global economy has revealed an important and (IMHO) fabulous fact: Civil disobedience has started. Neighbors have banded together to hide a tent city from authorities. Another’s voice has drawn a line in our local sand over selective law enforcement. Somewhere in my college days I coined the phrase, “What this country needs is an economic Martin Luther King.” Today, I can hear the far-off thunder of his or her voice rumbling its way toward Sarasota. What better place to illustrate the real fulcrum of the socio-economic divide. It is so very much closer to every back yard than most realize.

I write like
David Foster Wallace

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Every Rich Republican Represenative's Worst Nightmare

The rich are poor.

It's that simple, and that deadly to the self-serving so-called Representatives that have populated every level of US government for decades.

Sure, it's all relative. Whether you started with $5 or several million, if you've lost 50+% of your income and reserves, you're equally poor and equally angry. Angry at yourself, because you bought into "trickle down" economics and believed there were no consequences to the easy plunder. Angry at yourself because you sold your future for the instant gratification of American largess on steroids. Angry at the people, motives and decisions that are outside your control and hidden behind walls and laws.

Suddenly, the dearth of an educated, healthy workforce is chunking away at what relative wealth remains clutched in the hands of the rich.

Suddenly, decisions motivated by greed and the needs of the wealthy and powerful are no longer justifiable. The valildating voice of the wealthy and powerful has dwindled to a whisper.

Suddenly, representation without representation is revealed.

Suddenly, Socialism is not a dirty and foreign word. It's a solution.

I write like
Kurt Vonnegut

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