Carpetbagger

(And now for a preview from my upcoming book "Carpetbagger")

CHAPTER 1: F.Y.P.M

It was a frenzied crowd, the congregation of dazed onlookers and city emergency personnel packed the streets. Rubberneckers one and all, but who am I to criticize? I'm a journalist, that's who. Jeremiah Price, to be exact, and without my camera crew, about to make a written report. A written report on a man who I later learned was the, until recently, personal assistant to Roy "Minister of Offense" Boyington. I had every right to rubberneck, and every intention of getting a quote from Mr. Boyington himself. Boyington intrigued me; he was something out of an Ayn Rand novel, and something out of hell, which I know can be touted as being one and the same. Still, no one real estate or business giant could compare to Boyington, the Liberal "Donald Trump." Which of course if you did compare Boyington to Trump, he would have you killed, vice Trump merely swearing at you. In many ways, they were much alike. Both of which were born into a vast real estate fortune and were both business geniuses. However, Boyington was a supporter of civil rights, the Democratic Party and a widely outspoken "Cold-Blood Liberal." He'd shaken the hand of President Obama several times, and refused invitations to dinner events with President Bush several times more during his administration. As a man, you really couldn't tell Boyington anything without facts and information that supported your claim. He was not an "objectivist" but he looked at the world objectively and took every good idea into account. Boyington would seem like a rather likeable character, but he wasn't. As the crowd grew larger, someone noted that Boyington was also in the crowd with some of his aides, including Amy Park. Park was a shrew of a woman and a strong-willed over-achiever from a prominent Korean-American family that had no sense of humor when it came to making money. She was brushed aside when first looked upon as an assistant to Boyington. However, right about now, Park was glad she had been. Park stared up at Boyington's previous assistant, standing on a ledge about to take the proverbial "plunge." One couldn't help but wonder what drove him to the brink of such a horrifying act? I wondered this, elbowing my way through the throng of downtown Pittsburghers, several of whom called me a "jagoff" but I brushed it aside. I was willing to get trampled to get the oratory gold that was veined in the mouth of Boyington. Never had anyone ever encountered such an outspoken businessman and anything he said was news-worthy; if not to inform than to entertain. Squeezing through my last group of suicide spectacle revelers, I made it to Boyington around the same time a plain-clothed police officer approached him. I remained silent as the police officer, a short and slim man years past retirement in a cheap gray suit, asked "Mr. Boyington, I know you know this man. We called you down here in the hopes that you could possibly talk some sense into the boy." Boyington, taking a swig of his iced tea after a mouthful of popcorn, replied. "No thanks, let him jump."
"Can I quote you on that?" I shouted to Boyington. He nodded, saying "sure," with a disinterested shrug as if I'd asked him if he wanted french fries with his burger. The old police officer stood in dismay, still trying to hand the megaphone to Boyington. Boyington looked at him with a paternal gaze of disapproval, somewhere between pity and being sick of him. "Well I can't make you do this, sir. Just thought you had some more respect for human life." Boyington, growing slightly annoyed, said "I respect human life. That man, on the other hand, is a grabasstic piece of human wreckage who almost cost me a fortune. He was problematic, and he couldn't make coffee to save his fucking life. I mean, who does that? Who in fuck's name can't make a decent goddamn cup of coffee in addition to his other mistakes? So yeah, I respect life and trees and shit, but not him." Turning to me, he said, "Off the record, but that kid can eat dicks in Hell for all I care!" Behind me, amidst the chaos, I heard a small female voice screaming "Do it, faggot!" I whipped round to see a small blonde who introduced herself as Christine Wagner after I asked about her seemingly "personal" acquaintance with Garrison. As it turned out, Wagner was an intern who was consistently hounded and bullied by Garrison for everything from her work ethic, to her tacky shoes. "Fucker even said he wouldn't date me even if he was straight; the bastard." Giving credit where it was due, I did note to myself that her shoes were indeed tacky. "Were you trying to pursue something with him?" I asked as innocently as one could ask such a question. Wagner scowled at me, saying "No, why would I? With that big ass Jew-beak he calls a nose?" I frowned at the sexist and racist intern before asking "So, may I quote you on any of this?" Wagner shook her head, apparently a closeted racist/homophobe, and replied "Well, there is one thing that I'd like people to know about him, that Garrison was always afraid of someone stepping on his toes. He got jealous real easy. Nobody liked him anyway, he was a douche bag and he always got in my ass about 'taking too much initiative'." Wagner took a brief moment to screech "Jump" at the top of her lungs. She then turned to me, saying "The way I see it, don't get butthurt at me for having the testicular fortitude to take the initiative you apparently could not; you know what I'm saying?" I nodded, taking note of her massive metaphoric "balls." I noticed that after Wagner, everyone began to chant "jump-jump-jump." It was a group dynamic effect, whipped into a fever pitch. I can almost swear I saw a firefighter mouthing the words "jump" and as I turned my gaze upward to see the silhouette of Garrison against the overcast sky, he dove. Screams, cheers, jeers and noise erupted from the crowd as they watched Garrison. As if he had a second thought, Garrison's arms and legs flailed wildly before coming to terminus on the pavement below. Boyington raised his arms in triumph. Turning to me, he asked "Do you think he heard the 'thud' he made before he died? Because you know he's dead!" Boyington laughed boisterously; Park chimed in. "It was more of a pop if you ask me, I can't tell but I think his skull probably got busted open!"
"I swear to fuck that kid bounced; that was awesome." I couldn't help but stare at Boyington, rejoicing in a private victory or so it seemed. I couldn't help but wonder if a little part of me had just died inside. I pondered this, while simultaneously hustling over to get a quote from him as the rest of the media closed in on him. But Boyington pointed to me as the rest of the media gathered round him. He said "You, the short fella, you get to ask me the first question; I like your style." I smiled in acknowledgment. Hurriedly, I asked Boyington "How do you feel about the outcome of this?" Boyington shrugged happily. "Everything went better than expected." Another journalist, a redhead in a crummy red blazer raised a hand. Boyington pointed to her, asking "Yes, Red?" The redhead cleared her throat, obviously perturbed by his remark, then asked. "What makes this a victory? If it is indeed a 'victory'?" Boyington shook his head bitterly. "Garrison was a stoolie and selling our organization's secrets to the highest bidder; bidders who would like nothing more than to see me go under."
"What kinds of secrets?" One young journalist asked. "Well if I told you then it wouldn't be a secret, Einstein." The young journalist clammed up, his eyes downcast in a sort of "no, duh" shame that only a rookie can feel. "Will there be a memorial service, and who will be holding the service?" yet another reporter shouted. Boyington shrugged and replied "I dunno, his family I guess" with earnest apathy.
After fielding a few more questions, Boyington unceremoniously left for his car, escorted by his security. In the hustle, I managed to get the attention of Park, who looked me up and down bitterly. I smiled, making a vain attempt to put on the charm and asked "Will Mr. Boyington be attending the memorial?" Park shook her head and replied "According to executive scheduling, we are always having better shit to do anyway." With that, she brusquely turned and followed Boyington into his car.

(Coming Soon, tell your chums)

LifeSalt

I had a meal today
Best meal I ever had
I read a book today
Best book I've ever read
It seems as though no matter what I do encounter
It all starts with you
See I
Never had something that sweetens the bitterness
Nothing in my life makes me feel less adept at this
And the things I do almost every day
Feels like the first time, it ever happened to me
A renewed vigor
A new found dedication
A new outlook, on the same situation
And all in all, since you became involved
It all starts with you
I fought against the odds
And the odds fell in my favor
But I didn't even have to go lift a finger
The thought of your kiss, and it made my strength linger
Now I know that this seems just a touch insane
But I know that my life can not be the same
I want this to remain
A mainstay, a constant
But I'll just enjoy the time, as long as I've got it
I hear the most beautiful sound today
I heard it when you called to me
A siren's song, that just grabbed hold of me
And I can't let myself turn away
No I'm not going to pass up this today
When I say so long
For a moment, all is wrong
But just the promise of another week
So much to think about, how can I sleep?
Since I
Never had something that sweetens the bitterness
Nothing in my life makes me feel less adept at this
And the things I do almost every day
Feels like the first time it ever happened to me
A renewed vigor
A new found dedication
A new outlook, on the same situation
And all in all, since you became involved
It all starts with you

What The Hell Are You Waiting For?

In a United States gripped by fears of not being able to find a job, we have to ask ourselves what we bring to the world stage in this day and age.

An old flash article listing the statistics of job availability pre and post September 11, 2001 (found here) courtesy of CNN makes a fine illustration of how the job market had begun it's downward spiral. Today, surveying the consequential crash of that spiral, would it not be prudent to ask "Where is the money going?"

While a year after the attack claimed nigh of 3,000 victims, it claimed numerous jobs in the following year. Meanwhile, the U.S. Military experienced one of its highest base pay raises in decades. No such thing as a "win-win" or so it would seem.

Now the Armed Forces of the United States are some of the most formidable, experienced and "involved" armed forces in the world. Our military spending, topping out $680 billion in Fiscal Year 2010 alone, accounted for 12.7% of federal discretionary spending. But hey, the Department of Education is neck-and-neck so that's a win-win, right?

You do remember I had mentioned that in order to win, someone must lose, right?

Well, the loss inherent, is in global involvement. If all we're bringing to the world is men with guns, how then is it a significant contribution? The last time we were involved in a conflict with an undeniably problematic foe was during the second World War, and after that came the cold war. Now, Eisenhower warned us about this during his farewell address in 1961, however our adherence to this warning is not evident; therein we became reliant on the Military Industrial Complex and became consumers, not producers.

Don't even get me started on petroleum consumption...

The answer lies in building a better tomorrow. To reiterate, BUILDING a better world, not taking what good we can gain from it. You may resent that I use the term "we" in this article vice "they" as it pertains to the Federal Government. But considering this is a democracy, we are all equally at fault for equal votes. I challenge the United States, and everyone who dwells within, to create, innovate, patent, build, fix and abstain from fighting with a new vigor. I challenge you to stop voting for those whose idea of foreign policy involves a deployment to a resource rich country, and wants to scare you into believing that they are a "clear and present danger." when they're about as threatening as a rabbit with seasonal pollen allergies in an arboretum.

"Secular" is Spectacular #1

And now for a story that would have never seen the light of day, save for the journalists Shoaib Choudhury and Farid Ahmed. A tip of my hat to you, gentlemen.

I say it would not have seen the light of day because despite the old journalistic axiom of "If it bleeds, it leads" the same doesn't hold true for reporting killing "in the name Of."

But we all know who's name we're discussing, or avoiding to discuss, don't we..?

But if the axiom holds true, there will be blood, ladies and gentlemen; in copious amounts by and large.

In another example of the brutality of Sharia law gone unchecked, a young Hena Akhter (14) was found guilty of "adultery" and sentenced to 101 lashes under the "fatwa" religious ruling of a local imam. A sentence carried out publicly where the "guilty" can be shown as an example in Shariatpur, Bangladesh.

Or, in little Hena's case, proclaim their own innocence amidst anguished screams, however in vain...

This is the type of thing that makes extinguishing religions sound like a very good idea. But moreover, this sounds more like a motion to hold people accountable.

Accountability where you ask? Well lets speak of facts, lest I find myself trying to convince by conviction alone. The facts are as follows: Enter Mahbub Khan, a nephew to a Darbesh Khan, who returned to Shariatpur after working in Malaysia. Mahbub thought it far from wrong to force himself upon young Hena, himself three times her age. Furthermore he then gagged her, took little Hena behind some shrubbery and...well you know what happens when one is gagged against her will then taken behind the bushes forcibly. What boggles my mind, is how Mahbub Khan's wife could find the two of them, her husband clearly raping the young girl against her will (gags are a sure-fire giveaway, by the bye) then drag poor Hena into her home where she beat and trampled her.

Like a fully expected Spanish Inquisition, the village elders met at the Khan residence to investigate and rule the case. The ruling's technical name was "illicit relationship" between Mahbub Khan and Hena. Either it was opposite day in the Islamic calendar and "no" meant "yes" or this teenage girl's human rights under the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights were violated. According to Sharia law, the Declaration was the only thing violated, as they clearly saw Hena's situation as "asking for it" or "being a slag."

Kids these days, getting raped willy-nilly...

Sultana Kamal was quoted "What happened to Hena is unfortunate and we all have to be ashamed that we couldn't save her life." Kamal heads the rights organization Ain o Shalish Kendra, against Sharia fatwa and I couldn't agree more with this cause. But that's me speaking.

Speaking numbers however:

500, 10, 101, 70, 201.

500: is the number of documented cases of fatwa religious rulings (carried out
against women)

10: is in how many years these cases have been documented

101: is how many lashes Hena was to receive

70: is how many she actually received before passing out, having to be taken to
hospital, where she later died of internal injuries.

201: is the number of lashes Mahbub Khan was to receive until he managed to escape,
no one taking an interest in actually stopping him.

Darbesh Khan (the uncle, mind) stated that he had "...nothing to demand but justice." That's an interesting choice of words, justice, because there is justice. Secular law, the "law of the land" which treats people as equals. The justice Darbesh seeks has already been metered. That is unless he no longer seeks theological justice. But as usual, things aren't a big deal until they turn up on our doorstep. A village ruled by the brutality of Sharia law and it's cruel/unusual fatwas, and suddenly this man who has lived under the auspices of this law now craves the justice of a secular nature? Why? Because someone close to him died from it. I don't know if one calls that a problem landing at their doorstep, or taking out the entire north wall of their house. Hypocrisy by untimely concern aside, I understand.

I understand that this man has just turned a point. The point many of us turn to in questioning just why it is we abide the rules set forth by our so-called spiritual leaders. Hena Akhter paid the price to enlighten many in her village, her example, made.

The link to the actual article is available here: http://edition.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/asiapcf/03/29/bangladesh.lashing.death/index.html

If you wish to support Ain o Shalish Kendra, their link is available here: http://www.askbd.org/web/

Video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rS4kLMtOYSg

The West Bank Mike Show: New Orleans' Answer To Jack Johnson

To a packed house at the Old Point Bar in Algiers, LA, community favorite "West Bank Mike" and his group rouse music goers out of their seats and send out a simple message: That true musicianship is not gone and that music can still be enjoyable. The West Bank Mike show is definitely "bringing the fun back."

Seated atop a stool with a myriad of guitar sound pedals at his trademark bare feet, West Bank Mike opens with a wild number. Looking at the three-piece group on the old stage, you wouldn't expect so much life to come out of one performance. The sound, the lyrics are something anyone can relate to, they speak to the listener. As the listener, you can only respond by grabbing the lady next to you and taking to the floor. The performance, seemingly informal, still commands much reverence.

All of this, on a Tuesday? If it were any place besides this small and effortlessly charming neighborhood in the City of New Orleans, it wouldn't be possible. Every Tuesday, The West Bank Mike show can be enjoyed at the Old Point Bar. The visual vibe of the bar and general ambiance only adds to the bluesy, soulful feel that the show offers.

If you're ever in Old Point on a Tuesday, break an appointment to see "The West Bank Mike Show." You'll only be disappointed if you don't see them live!

(For more photos from the show click this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=23112&id=100000231670780&l=c3ad653bed)