Learning Again How to Carrying the Bags Home

August 26, 2013, 7:31 pm

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Living in the Southland is never constant. Life might seem the same day after day but then the next day does a wooga-wooga on you. You have to re-calibrate.

Take plastic shopping bags. South Pasadena say yes, Pasadena say no. Long Beach says no, Los Angeles is thinking about it.

Los Angeles is always thinking about stuff. Takes them a good chunk of chew time to do anything and when they do decide it will cost the citizens more in the short, middle and long term.

(Confirmed: Yes, the city of Los Angeles will go plastic bag free on January 1, 2014.)

Hmmm. I had a point I was trying to make.

So when you go out to shop you not only have to remember what you need but also remembering to bring a bag or two with you to bring it home. If you forget your bag(s) you can pay 10 cents for a "multi-use" bag.

This will be either paper or a heavier grade plastic bag.  You can buy one of those recycle spun totes for 99 cents.

Savvy shoppers and Frugalistas know you gotta bring your own bag. Because that paper bag isn't designed for the sharp corners of modern packaging. Those paper bags are embarrassing people all over the place.

I've seen cans of peas roll to the front of the bus to the back as blushing grandmas try to cope.

Using plastic is kinda wrong to me but I keep a spare on in my handbag just in case. To pay it forward just in case.

You do not have to use a bag. You can carry your stuff out of the store.

For those of us under lifetime racial, ethnic or cultural profiling orders I shouldn't have to say this but "No you can't" and you know it even if you have the receipt pinned to your chest. 

It is about change. It is about remembering to get only what you need cuz if you go overboard you too can have celery roll down El Molina Avenue.

It is about planning. And being true to the real world application of a cleaner city and not just that it is a good idea.

Doing the right thing takes adjustments. Plastic bags first, then Syrofoam, then maybe sensible packaging followed by no fracking near clean water or maybe no fracking at all.

Baby steps.

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Just How Inclusive Do We Want To Be?

September 1, 2013, 11:08 am

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I want to talk about about something that is hard for a non-academic person to articulate let alone try to put into a public post. What does inclusive mean anymore in a public space?

This posts is not about feminism, Miley Cyrus, Fast Company, Twitter or the patriarchy. They do play a part in this musing but not really what I want to talk about.

It is about the audience. We are the audience except when we are not, as in not seen or acknowledge. It is kinda like sanctified pussy. Meaning, you want your cake and eat it too without repercussions.

Who do we perceive as the audience? Bloggers are not exempt musing but this post is mainly about mainstream media publications and content makers.

I think many on-line, off-line publications and mainstream media still believe that the demographics in their media kits totally define who their target audience is or who they desired it to be.

Allowing just demographics to define your audience in 2013 might not be the way to go.  But what do I know? I'm part of the invisible people.

Still, for giggles let's look at the Fast Companies media kit demographics:

Readership is 66% male/34% female
Median Age of Readership is 45+ for print version and 35+ for web version.

Median HHI is $175,275 for print readers
Median HHI is $72,907 for web viewers
Primary readership is managerial/professional level

Would I be perceived as a Fast Company reader? Would an Latino man working in IT be perceived as one? How about an Asian woman working in management that isn't paid the same as her Anglo male co-worker but does exactly the same job?

And even if we were perceived as readers would the expectation be that those of us that don't fit the above demographic profile would come for the content that was tech influenced or connected to business or the intersections of tech, culture and money?

Would we automatically accept that our respective cultures would not be reflected in the publication?

When they came up with that 25 Smartest Women on Twitter listical they had it coming and they got it.  And I'd lay cash money (up to $1) that they still don't know why.

True, Fast Company responded with a second posts that included more diversity and actual Twitter users but yeah, not sure they totally got it enough to be more inclusive on a regular basis.

When this type of question was asked in the 1960's, 1970s, 1980's....(Yes, this is a long dodged question by publishers, television producers and filmmakers. ) 2000s up to the 2013 the usual response has been:

"Sure, we love all of our audience. But we are just one "insert the blank" and we have an obligation to our advertisers and our primary audience which is "insert the blank."  We do what we can to be inclusive but..."

And mainstream media makers got away with that bullshit for a long, long time. That time might be ending. Or not. But change is being forced upon them.

With Twitter and Facebook in play, mainstream publishers cannot put up a wall between themselves and their total audiences. Publications and media outlets are now being called up on the shim-sham.

If they are lucky. Those are the people that care. Angry, but they do care. These are the folks that are telling media makers that you cannot pretend that "the other" does not exist.

The audience stake-holders are talking back.  For example, when ABC News had an expert explain Twerking people became unhinged.

We expect a news channel to aim a little higher than the anal clef. It is a diminished expectation sure, but folks were a little put off just the same. Yes, exercising your butt and thighs is good for you but this is a news item?

African-Americans were rightfully up in agitation because Cyrus not only did not perform the dance correctly but is anatomically ill-equip to compensate for a lack of dance skill. It was another dose of cultural appropriation and it still is distasteful.

And yet, Miley Cyrus name is permanently attached to Twerking by mainstream media and not Big Frieedia.

A moment for the obligatory Big Fredia video. Those with conservative constitutions should not watch this video.  Those who don't want to see true dancing or ass flipping are also cautioned against viewing.

I am not responsible if you get up out of your chair and try this at home without warming up first.





Eh, where was I. Oh, yeah.

Who was the intended audience? Those that voluntarily watched the VMAs. Not me. I'm still not and will never be but it was forced upon me none the less.

It isn't necessarily just about race, gender or affinity. We had black folks acting the fool as well. Russell Simmons was quickly corrected.

I think we underestimate just how strong a pull a male dominated society influences the American culture. When certain white women feminists choose to defend Hugo Schwyzer over women of color that were being victimize by this man for calling him on his shit then we gotta look at the possible reasons why:

In my subjective opinion:

1. A white male ally is worth more television and print time than the value of a black, Latino or Asian woman's voice.
2. Who was the audience they wanted to reach? Not an inclusive one but an audience that fit into their perceived demographic of power. Hugo was the emblem that pushed their agenda and made it palatable to certain viewers.
3. Do some people's voices have to be subjugated in order to advance the cause? That is what some (a fractional few to be sure) have advocated.

Oww. Which lead to more questions like:

• How Inclusive are we in our silos?
• Is it a silo or a bunker mentality? You know people get a little freaky in the bunker right?
• Can we be inclusive and still maintain our identity?
• Can we lean to use citation when appropriating another cultures art forms?

 
There are so many more questions but I have to lay this burden down for a while. 

When In Doubt or Fear Take A Deep Breath

September 15, 2013, 7:20 pm

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It is the stories that we tell each other. Our life experiences and those of our kind. This is a short story about perception, fear and riding the rails. The Los Angeles Sheriff Department (LASD) patrols the unincorporated areas of Los Angeles. They also have jurisdiction over the jail system and provide security services for our mass transit system.

You need to know something about the Sheriff deputies. The deputies do go through a training system similar to the LAPD. These are law enforcement officers.

There is a difference. The LAPD offices work with the general public. They are trained to work with different kinds of people. They observe the day to day activities of Angelenos. They can perceive the difference between non-criminal people and those up to no-good. They ain't perfect. There are issues but you have a 60/40 chance of having a civil conversation with them.

The Sheriff deputies are assigned to the jail system as one of their primary duty bases. It is service to a specialized population that requires a different set of skills.

So when the Sheriff deputies get promoted, transferred or bounced from the Twin Towers they are placed in contact with the general public.

Stew on that for a bit. Ex-jailers going into day to day contact with regular citizens.

In our local media there are plenty of stories about the LASD. The bottom line is that you don't want to make unnecessary contact with them if possible. You can be hurt. You can be dead. And, the LASD is truly an equal opportunity organization. There is no privileged with these folks.

There was one deputy in Pasadena that use to inspect the buses. You could tell he hated the job. Hated the passengers on sight. His shirt was so tight I bet he stitched it himself in just to contain his wrath.

Sooo...

Yesterday I was on the train. I had charged up my TAP card. I had my receipt. I hit the tap portal that proves you paid the fare. You want to make sure you do this because there is a $250 fine and 48 hours community service. You would get to spend more time with the deputies. Not something to aspire to on a weekend.

I'm grooving on the train, the A/C is on and it is a mellow ride. Soon, there was a change in the force. Two deputies get on board to inspect for fare compliance.

You can see the body language of folks stiffen up. Those few that hadn't paid their fare were trying to ease on down to the next care to get off. Some didn't make it.

I'm looking and not looking. The deputy comes up to me and ask for my card. He has a smile on his face.

"It is a beautiful day today, isn't it?" He takes my card and runs it through the scanner.
"Why, yes it certainly is" as I try to bite down the fear and look him in the eye.

If he is willing to be nice I'm willing to try to be polite.

There is a problem.

"I can see you added fare at the Fillmore station but it is not showing that you tapped at the terminal."

"I'm sure that I tapped my card." I'm trying to stay cool because $250 is a lot less to loose than getting bashed in the head.

"No problem, those are older terminals. Just make sure you hold it for a longer period of time."

That was it. Brain is trying to remind me to exhale. I would have too except his partner was writing out fare evasion tickets like white on rice.

And breathe, and did I tap or think that I tapped? I usually tap. This could have gone so wrong. What if I didn't tap? I was rattled so I honestly don't know if I did or didn't.

Still, in my years of riding I have rarely seen a deputy smile or be willing to be friendly.

It was a good day. 

Help Laina Forge 21st Century Metal

September 26, 2013, 7:14 pm

≫ Next: Downloading Memory Lane

≪ Previous: When In Doubt or Fear Take A Deep Breath

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I was 18 years old. Home on a Friday night. Not unusual. Turned on late night ABC and there she was. Wearing a Mohawk, the sides of her head shaved clean to the bone. Was sporting electrical tape on her nips. I did not know what to make of this person or the band.

The person I speak of is Wendy O Williams. Girl tore it up. I think she set fire to something. She is no longer on the planet. Mainly because people did not believe Williams had the right to play punk/metal/proto grunge like the boys.

She didn't have role models. Wendy was the role model. To be honest, I don't care for the music. Just not my thing. Maybe I haven't found the right band. Don't know.

But I do care about the ability to express and treat yourself musically. The video below is a Indigogo campaign video from Laina. This woman wrote a book about being a fan of metal, the harder the better.





As you can imagine, she has stories to tell. About her experiences. The bands. The people she meets and the people of color who want to listen and play metal music.

The book is written and you can get it if you want from her website Writing Is Fighting.

But it is a little bit more than that. If you can't view the video, Laina wants to do tours of the U.S., talk about the book and then have a mini concert with local artist thrashing it up.

Not sure I'm using the right vocabulary but I'm an old Funkateer. What can I do but try?

If you would like to chip in some moolah to help her make this happen between now and October 21st swing on over to her Indigogo page. She is asking for $8,500. I think it should be rounded up to and even $10,000 but she would appreciate a $5 if you have it to spare.

If if it is after the campaign then go to her website and find out how to send her money. Tear the walls down and make new roads, new paths.

Downloading Memory Lane

October 9, 2013, 7:02 pm

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It is a day of memories. I'm downloading my older videos from Blip.tv. The web host is focusing on web series and potential money making activities. It is understandable because the commercial side of web video is about to break loose. Either through a merger with traditional media or as a destination in it own right.

There are talented folks on Blip.tv and I want and hope for the best for each and every one of them. There was a letter from Blip.tv e-mailed to some of the vloggers stating that they are removing accounts that don't meet the Terms of Service.

I didn't even rank that letter. I found out via Twitter when Schlomo told Trine who asked Jay and some other folks questions and I happen to see the post and then I found out.

I have 300+ videos on the service. I do have back up copies but there is a technical dilemma. Before broadband and high speed access there was dial-up Internet. 56k modems. 320x240 video was the accepted size and format.

Here, let me show you.




It is a great clip but it is too dang small for contemporary viewing. I need to dig out the original tape/hard drive/CD that it is stored on and stabilize that bad boy. I have hundreds of video like this; many posted on this blog.

Now true, I could upscale it; this one at 360p doesn't look that bad. I got others that aren't going to look good being stretched. 

Come November 7, 2013 all of my Blip.tv videos will go dark unless I replace them with updated versions. 300+ of them. With the day job, my school class and my complete and utter failure as a keeper of home and hearth, I just don't know where I'll find the time.

So I download my memories that, however imperfect, tried to tell a small bit of the story of being in this place. Of living in this time. It is a part of my life experience, not a series for sale. I can't do a do-over on time gone by.

Someday YouTube might do the same thing. kick the generation 2005 type vlogs out the door because it doesn't fit in with the branding and evolution of the service.

I maintain that there is a place for us between cat videos and entertainment. Where we communicate unfettered by commercials. Where we lock into place those people who raised our thinking a little higher.

So I write a bit. Eat a sandwich. Download another video. Repeat.

I'll figure out the rest later on.

Somedays I Only Want to Hug My Blanket

October 24, 2013, 7:17 pm

≫ Next: Saved by Für Hildegard von Bingen or Let's Rock

≪ Previous: Downloading Memory Lane

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Status Report: School is going well except when I have to write a paper. I normally can crank out a report without busting a sweat. Not in the Digital Archiving class. I'm learning multiple new skills at the same time that I have to practice them.

The class is doing wonders for my brain cells stimulation but I have to squeeze out time from the early morning or late evening hours. Time I use to allocate to blogging. You might not be aware of this but there really are only 24 hours in a day.

Some of that time is designated for sleeping. It seems that I have been shaving more of my sleep time than my body is willing to accept. There are protest and on certain occasions shutdown actions.

I had a shutdown action last week. I wanted to finish reading a book. The body stated that this was not acceptable and you will enter shutdown mode in 5...4...3...2......zzzzzz.

At which time I fell asleep. Then I woke up ten minutes later with the book still in my hands.

Only to get the shutdown notice again.

Yes, once again I'll dredged up the fact that I could go to school, watch the Late, Late, Late Show on television take a half hour nap and then head back to school.

I need that kind of energy and it is long gone. I just gotta make it over the hump. December is coming. Normally I hate that month but now it has a certain appeal in that when I finish this semester I'll get some sleep time before the next semester kicks into gear.

In the meantime, I have my old school Kindle read me stories in an automated, non-emotional voice. I usually drop off to sleep as it drones on but I get a taste of the book.

There are days when you only have time for a taste. Savor what you can.

Saved by Für Hildegard von Bingen or Let's Rock

October 30, 2013, 5:45 pm

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I use to love Halloween. I liked scaring kids on the candy prowl. It was about tradition and fun and reminding the tikes that surprises can happen at any time.

This past few days has soured me on Halloween. Adults behaving badly. Very badly. I have no desire to show you the photos of grown men in black face with psudo blood on their shirts with white men with a gun nearby. I use the plural because there are multiple photos. Not one, not two but more...

Yeah, it became a theme this year.

But it isn't all white folks acting the fool. I've seen the tweets attacking black women from black folks. Cruelty doesn't get near that slice of hell posing as humor. Not linking to that either.

I'm not a prude. But I am older. And I know what goes around comes around. There are rules of behavior that have been forgotten because of a keyboard and a screen. People will be found. Dreams will be deferred or will be awkwardly explained away with an undercurrent of remorse.

I do not fight with Karma. Her TKO record is legendary.

I almost miss the porn-y aspect of Halloween. Almost, except I noticed that some of the adult costumes migrated down to the the toddler level. Ewww.

Yet, I come with a found treasure to salve and redeem those of us stuck with the masses. I've been sucking in MOCA.TV lately because if I'm not watching network television what am I viewing?

This...




To be another is cool. To take an iconic uniform and tell a new story is also cool. Then again it might not be a new story but the passing down the line of the inner desire to bust out of L7.

I'm always up for it even if I'm busy being a drone at the hive. And that is why I like the true spirit of Halloween.

I recognize the name of Nonsuch Records from when I use to listen to radio station that played folk music. The performers are new to me, but I'm open to new grooves if you got them. I spent some moments on Devendra Banhart's site. There is a video clip with him and Biz Markie.

The Biz? Okay. I'm willing to check this guy out.

So maybe I don't hate Halloween. Maybe I hate what has been done to the day. Maybe I hate, dislike or I am very, very sad that many of my fellow Americans seem to take joy in scraping beneath the bottom of the barrel.

Then I see a video like this and maybe there are multiple ways to shine the light. Multiple ways to tell the tale. Hold on and that one step forward. Breathe. Repeat.

Yeah, It Is Early

November 12, 2013, 5:24 am

≫ Next: Memory, Haiku Deck and Being the Rabbit

≪ Previous: Saved by Für Hildegard von Bingen or Let's Rock

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As in five in the morning early. I have just enough time to prepare, scan e-mail and Twitter and then head out for a long day. Need brain food. Need another two hours of me time.




I like this RSA video about the power of quiet. About how we have to work with Extroverts and Introverts and respecting the powers that both bring to the conversation. I know a couple of boom boom kids I wish would shut the hell up.

These would be people that talk but have nothing real to contribute to the world but the empty uninformed chatter found in the vapid containers of their minds.

Sorry, the polite and diplomacy cells have not kicked in yet.

School is going well. Except for that quiz. I'm still pissed about two mistakes on the quiz. I knew the answers. I reviewed and then changed my mind.

And then got dinged -10 points because I did have the original answers. Which means one of two things.

I didn't really know the answer. Which I did.
Or I didn't trust or verify to myself that I knew the answer.

Which might be the same thing.

So part of this day will be spent in forgiving myself for being a doubtful human being. Of remembering that the point of the quiz is to point out what I need to review for mastery of a subject I am leaning about.

Not to have a perfect score.

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Memory, Haiku Deck and Being the Rabbit

November 23, 2013, 9:10 am

≫ Next: The Cool Tools Book That I'm Putting on the Wish List

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If I can get my fanny in gear I'm about to participate in a worldwide viewing event. Means nothing to those not invested but a Whovian gotta do what she has got to do. I also have to study, do household tasks and be in three places at the same time.

Some days I feel like Alice's rabbit. So I'll read as I ride. I'll check out the doings and beings who are tapping into memory and connections.

In the past museums and libraries were the gathering places that allowed people to connect to histories and cultures. It was a restrictive and curated experience. That can be a good or bad thing.

It could be argued that there needs to be a filtering process to catalog the collection. There had to be because of space and content limitations.



Created with Haiku Deck
One of the ways it was bad was that cultures and populations of people, skills, education and experiences were ignored or devalued.

What I am excited about is that more people or those that have access can tell their stories by all kinds of applications and tools. Some are complex and some are simple. The presentation software above is called Haiku Deck. It is an iPad app and they are accepting Beta invites for the web app.

I kinda like the fact that it is simple to set up a presentation. You don't have to go hunting for legal images. They got 35 million of them. And of course you can use your own.

Use what you got but tell the tale. And yes, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.

The Cool Tools Book That I'm Putting on the Wish List

November 30, 2013, 6:11 pm

≫ Next: My Memories of Father Mandela

≪ Previous: Memory, Haiku Deck and Being the Rabbit

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I was one of those people that read The Whole Earth Catalog. Yes, I know it is not a narrative type book. It was a huge freaking catalog. It was the paper Internet. How do grow hay? Build a mud house? Get a radio license?

It spoke to me even thought I was raised as a city girl. Didn't matter. There were academic stuff in that Whole Earth Catalog. It feed a hunger. I wanted to know what I didn't know.


The above video is about a new book called Cool Tools. I subscribe to the feed of the web site. The site is about tools (an expansive term) and gadgets. Things that people can do analog as well as digital.

There is a part of me that wants this book very much. It is not the logical part. I have no immediate need to build a mud house. But there is other stuff in the book that I would like to read or know about especially for those frequent notices of impending doom.

It is the longing for sensory pleasure of putting hand to paper and falling into a world. This is why I have to stay out of bookstores. I'm vulnerable that way.

So...yeah. I don't do SaleXmas but I'm posting this as a reminder to myself that should I clear 1/3 of my book collection I could possibly pick this up as a reward.

Eh, I mean for my emergency kit supply kit.

That I will read in bed slowly as I turn the pages.

My Memories of Father Mandela

December 5, 2013, 5:43 pm

≫ Next: What I Want and What I Really Really Don't Want

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Just wanted to post some fleeting memories about Father Mandela. Certainly I and millions morn the loss of this icon, this teacher and father of liberation to the South African people.

I remember being a youngster hearing and not understanding about Apartheid. I could understand segregation in the United States but the South Africans experienced something so brutal I couldn't rap my head around it. 

Later, I remember my college classmates supporting Mandela because it was the thing to do. The concerts. The posters. The discussions in the cafeteria. It is what young people in college did at the time.

We talked.

We protested. Some of us read and were informed on the issues. Most just gave our voices to let it be known that South Africa wasn't that far away from our lives. We understood.

I remember watching late night news shows that actually contained news; sometimes about Mandela.





There came a time when entertainers were asked not to perform in South Africa. Many of them did not perform at the resort. True, there were a few people that refused to to leave cash money on the table.

Some musical performers that refused to go to Sun City lost their jobs and careers. Others that went, well...yeah. They don't speak to loudly about it now do they?

And like the shock of the fall of the Berlin wall, Mandela was freed. And you figure well that is done and we move on.

Except he had more to teach and we needed to listen.

It is hard letting family go. It is hard when you hold the memory and the pleasure of knowing that good people are on the planet. There are those people that lift us up by their smile and their conviction.

 It is hard letting go.

I got to give it to him; he is a straight up long distance fighter.

I envision that Death sent him a couple of memos, personal representatives and finally had to go up top side himself to persuade Mr. Mandela that he was needed elsewhere.

No, I don't think he went easy. But I hope it was peaceful.

What I Want and What I Really Really Don't Want

December 19, 2013, 7:44 pm

≫ Next: Cold Duck, Hillbillies and Plantations

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It seems that I have been typographically quiet. I spurt something out on a daily basis but I am trying to think before typing. Some days it works and other days I can't take another minute on the keyboard.

My day job requires a lot of computer time. When I get home I'm burnt out but want do something. When class was in session I leave the salt mine and then sit for three hours looking at a screen or working on a keyboard.

The eyes have limits. My hands need time off. I tried to give them that as much as possible. And yet, I'm learning something from stepping back.

I have to listen. I don't have to jump on the latest outrage. I can wait for one that really fries my chops. Or I can choose to let other voices have a go and see where their ideas take me.

So, What Do I Want?

School is out for the semester. I like having space to do what I want. So if I let go of unimportant things,  like Santas in New York City trying to beat the heck out of each other that opens time for other activities.




Not that it isn't an amusing social history marker considering the hand wringing about the ethnicity of a fictional advertising created Euro-centric cultural appropriation about Santa.

I'm thinking maybe y'all can keep this one.

No, not really. But I am thinking about many things I'd want for my future which also includes things I don't want.

Dear Amazon, I don't want commercial drones.Why are you trying to deprive women from their daily office interactions with fine, healthy young men (and women)?  Law of unintended consequences apply here and you risk messing up potential dates from around the globe.

Not to mention the obstruction of the sky. Next thing you know there will be parking inspector drones and then you'd have have police drones to watch the parking inspector drones that will be shot out of the sky.

And when the police drones are not looking after the parking inspector drones they would be following brothers up and down the street.

You see where I'm going with this? You'd have drones crashing into each other trying to profile every POC from here to Jordan. Too much litter and the fact that somebody is going to get hurt with those rotor blades scraping off the sides of buildings.

Nip it. Nip it in the bud. 

I do want my electric self-driving car. I want hydroponic gardens and places of solitude. And trees. More trees please.

I would like the re-establishment of intelligence in the public discourse.

I don't want much do I?




Well. it beats thinking about the downer stuff and I've had my fill for this month. I leave you with a trailer for a so-so movie but with a kick-ass star of his time. I got so people I'd like to have meet-up with Billy Jack but I'm still in give peace a chance mode.

Cold Duck, Hillbillies and Plantations

December 29, 2013, 3:21 pm

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Some days I think I've lost my voice. Maybe it is the wisdom of letting some things go. Then again some things you can't let go of even if you want to because the thing is stinking up the room. So I need to let this go free because I'm trying to practice self-compassion. Some of my friends are locked into the stench so I want to offer a way out.

But first, a history lesson. Cold Duck is an alcoholic beverage made up of the dregs of other wines. Way back in the day, the barkeeps would collect the un-drunk wines of their patrons and mix them together for an after hours drink.

Time marches on and a merchant take a more sanitary approach by mixing champagne and other wine stocks into a bottle of Cold Duck. That brew was sold under the Henri Marchant Cold Duck label.

This is a commercial from the 1970s promoting the beverage.


It isn't a toxic brew; more along the lines of Boone's Farm or Asti Spumante. About three shelf's up from Night Train and Mad Dog 20/20.

It is an illusion wine.

You drink it because you can afford it. You drink it because you want the verniers of class; of belonging.  You drink it because you know what you are going get and you are okay with it. Familiar. Comforting.

The buzz you will derive from it isn't a million cell killer. You might even get laid. It will not cause internal system damage like you would from Thunderbird.

You know what you are going to get. You can't kick about not knowing. You have to embrace the bottle to pick it up and take it out of the store. It is a conscious decision. 

Which is why there should be a wine education class for all adults. People don't know about the far superior $2 Buck Chuck. Passable drinking wine and good in spaghetti sauces and chill. There is no class associated with $2 Buck Chuck so all come to the table and can get toasty.

Faith is a lot like drinking Cold Duck. 

You buy into the illusion. You think you have a certain amount of class and you get to tell others that your reality is far superior than their reality because this is what you know to be true. Your book of truth tells you so. And although your book does preach about love, agape love, and love of all even your enemies you have issues. 

There is something about it. If asked, you would kill to cleans the world of the unbelievers. So that you can have that illusion of a perfect, classy, loving world.

If a rich hillbilly tells you he is a man of God and he finds queer sexuality repugnant why are you shocked? If he then says that Negros were so much better when they were being cheated out of the rightful sharecropping fees, not having the right to vote, not being free from the company store and still subject to any white person who wanted them to do something and may or may not have paid them for their labor then why are you surprised?

When a singer wants to have a $1,009 meet-up with other creatives at a plantation that presents slavery as a troublesome marketing challenge to be overcome why y'all got you panty's in a bunch? What, you thought certain forms of feminisim was inclusive?

No, my sweeties, no. When you agree to go to a non-educational plantation; in this case, an entertainment plantation,  you are buying into an illusion of Gone With the Wind.

You really won't see the darkies but you fall in love with the house servants. A place where men married their first cousins and keeps dipping their wicks into the slave stock for sexual relief. Where offspring of involuntary or voluntary unions were sold to keep the household peace.

They tell me that the place is so pretty and architecturally commanding that you want to be artistically connected to Tarra and damn the women of color who point out that this might be inconsistent with your formerly announced social beliefs and activities?

Many folks are squeezing on the Cold Duck. What is shocking is who is doing it.

The Hate on Hate Is Opening The Gate

I'm not going to catalog the rampant stupidity passing for justification. I can put up screenshots of people communicating badly in defense of being Christian and racists and how that might not be compatible but, by jingy, they are bound and determined to make it so.

Friends, I will not tell you to be silent.  Do what you gotta do. If you want to go up into the hills an converse with people so that they know you and your kind, go forth. If you want to go to an entertainment plantation then so be it.

Just be real clear on the reason why you are doing it. Cuz you might be tapping into ancestral or advertising memes of illusion. It goes down tolerable. Still, at some point you will have to wake up. You will have to decide how much you want to embrace the matrix of truth, illusion and reality.

The rest of us want to move to the other side of the gate and build a new path of truth and understanding. This requires hard, conscious work.

If certain feminists groups want no part of this type of discussion then I understand. If some hillbillies would like to sit at the table and talk about sexuality, faith and inclusiveness I got some greens in the fridge.

We'll leave the light on for you but will offer you only water. It is cleasing. Leaves no after tastes.

Passion - A Visual Poem Trying to Make Cents

January 19, 2014, 12:21 pm

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I'm always fussing about not having time. Not having enough time. Running out of time. Yes, I work a day job and I take classes both on and off-line. Then there is that sleep thing that I never seem to get enough off any more. Or I need more of it. I'm not sure.

I have been blocked. I caught a dose of the writers and video block. Depression. Sadness. Feeling that I don't have anything to say or show. This is not the truth but when you get caught in that loop you are constrained.




One of the things that help to shake me out of it was finding out that someone that was really productive and creative was going through the same thing. If this guy had a creativity block then a shrub like me has every right to have one too.

He wasn't the only one who was fighting to create and carry on with the day to day living. And then you have the other end where folks are popping videos like rabbits after an orgy.

Humbling.

So I have a new project that I have a goal of at least ten videos. The name of this project is Making ¢ents of it all. We pay for what we learn and don't learn. The little things add up. A penny for a thought.

It is a little different than what I've done in the past. I want to use video to create visual types of prose poems or found poetry. Sometimes narrated but sometimes not.

I know it is healthier for me when I create or write. I do have to fight to make the time. It is a fight but planning and lowering expectations are tools in the battle.

Lowing expectation meaning I do what I can this day. I have to hold tight to the fact that I make videos but they are not going to win me a prize anytime soon. But I have things to say so that is more important than being the next Captain Whizbang of Vid-E-Oh.

I have to clear my own path; be my cheerleader and take out the trash.

So be it.

Financial Literacy - A Visual Poem Making Cents of It All

January 24, 2014, 8:55 pm

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I was standing in a beloved retail bastion of frugality. It is one of my favorite places because it is a source of inspiration. I was checking out the new items and I turned to see this bounty of sexual products.




There were lubes, washes, rubbers and wipes. I was amazed at the number of condoms that were available. As I was standing beholding the splendor, the music in the store changed to Bobby Womack's I'm Looking for A Love.

I would have uploaded that video as is but, alas, the copybots would have had the poem yanked quick fast and in a hurry.

So I had to think of other ways to convey this message of financial literacy. For the record, I am not saying don't buy 99¢ condoms. No, I am not. These are FDA regulated medical products. They are tested. There is a limit on the permitted fail rate.

But you might want to check the expiration date on the box. Or double up on them if buying a onesie is not in your immediate future.

The reason I stopped was because in most stores the condoms are locked up or visible in a distant glass case. You have to find someone to retrieve it for you. This could discourage a sale or two but I do understand retailers do not like to replenish stolen products.

The store had enough boxes for each person that wanted one. I got to hold a box and look it over; something I haven't been able to do before in pharmacies and department stores.

It was a moment.

PS - I really don't want to cast negativity toward the manufacture of the condoms. Broke folk need love and I fully support any glove that can be used to prevent STDs. Perhaps folks can do pre-testing before going full tactile?

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Going Binary - The Non-Discussion Video

February 1, 2014, 4:49 pm

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I strive to understand. Then I understand and then wonder how we ever got out of the mud, the cave and the mire. I don't think we have. We live in houses. We have reasonably safer food and clothing. Yet that sex thing just makes people go cray-cray.

Sex.

Religion.

It is almost the same thing but one is a heck of a lot more pleasurable. Hard to mix and match so I am all for keeping one of them out of public discourse. Americans can't handle it. We just can't. I say put religion back in the closet where it belongs.




But that is just me.

If the premise is that women should only have sex for procreation then I supposed you wouldn't need birth control. If your believe that sex is only for married couples then I supposed those couples should not be doing the bang bang with a pill and a condom.

I beseech thee, one faith does not fit all.

I wanted to respond to the statements made by Huckabee regarding all of us loose, libido driven women. Women who plan when they want to start their families. Women who use their work insurance where they do pay into a plan to have coverage. Women who want to love, have sex, fuck and be fucked well.

Women who take birth controls pills to control their menstrual flow or other medical conditions. I wanted to respond with facts and reason and rock solid verification of the truth.

Not the space and time I live in. Sound bites. Sound bytes. 140 characters and tsk, tsk. So this video is about getting binary with the word fuck. I don't normally use it but since I'm hooked on the sugar I am a known offender.

This is my third attempt at finding ways to make a video poem. It seems that I'm getting progressively shorter in my videos. It is the times I live in; shallow and to the point with links you can't beg folks to read as opposed to skim.

Ah, well.

The Latest News - Poem by Don Kingfisher Campbell

February 12, 2014, 10:00 pm

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A few years ago I recorded some of the San Gabriel Valley Poets. Wouldn't mind doing it again but life changes have dictated a re-allocation of time and resources. I have a lot of video that I can't re-post because I've lost contact with many of the poets.

I have some verbal permissions; some on video but mostly by mouth. I should have had folks sign a card or something but such is life. Live and learn.


Anyway, this is a poem by the main dude of poetry around the SGV and parts beyond. It is a poem I believe was recorded in 2012 or early part of 2013.

For more information about Don you can check out his YouTube channel or visit http://dkc1031.blogspot.com

Hmm,  I know have some CalOkie videos; need to dig them out as soon as I find the right pile of DVDs.

My $2.98 Movie Review

February 17, 2014, 4:16 pm

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I have no problem with checking out the clearance section of a store. This is my birthright coming from a long line of frugal and frugal adjacent people. There was a current 2013 movie on the clearance shelf. African American cast of people I recognize. For almost three dollars cash what could be wrong?

This is the trailer for the movie And Then There Was You:




I don't really watch romantic movies unless there is a dang good reason. It helps if there is some science fiction in it, or a science fiction comedy. Or the woman is a secret agent and she falls in love along the way.  This is a romantic drama. With a lot of talking. Well, people talking and not listing to themselves or each other.

I don't get to see black folks in a romance movie often so I went with impulse and gave it a go. I'm a little mad at myself that I did but this dang movie will not let me go. I should have Frisbee the DVD after 20 minutes but, naw, I wanted to give it a fair chance.

 *****SPOILER ALERT******

From this point on I'm dropping plot points and spoilers. If you still shop at Target (with cash) or find this in a Dollar Tree DVD bin stop reading if you don't want to know more than the trailer gives away.

Technologically, the movie is well mounted. Looks good but I didn't have my glasses on so, yeah, no quibbles about that aspect of the film.

Natalie is married to Josh. Josh is ambivalent to hostile to Natalie. 15 minutes into the film Josh is packing up and leaving to be with his kids and the mother of said kids he had on the side for five years.

He blames Natalie.

On the positive side, I don't mind seeing men half naked. This works for me. But it is the 21st century and we should be having more naked men in the movies, especially in the shower.

On the negative side, WTF?! I understand that the younger generation of women don't cook but you should still have a caste iron skillet for certain occasions; like when you husband blames you for creating and maintaining a family outside of the marriage.

Now that is an old school form of communication but it is an effective tool and promotes dialog from those that lied from jump street.  However, there are some of us that are not constitutionally able to swing with the intensity necessary for total flow. For those folks there are attorneys.

Did Natalie call on an attorney for advice when hubby cleaned her out financially? Did she try to get alimony in California after 11 years of marriage?

Twenty minutes into the film and I'm asking these questions. Not one of those questions occurred to Natalie.

Hunky Handyman

Natalie decides to sell the expensive home she now lives in alone. The pseudo estate needs some touch-up so in comes the handyman. Very nice looking man. She tells him what needs to be done, tells him she's broke and he replies "so am I."

Wait; you can't pay the man and he still wants to fix the pluming, the cabinet and the hedges? I'm going with suspension of belief on this one cuz there is more, so much more. After about 40 minutes of yakity yak things start to happen.

Hunky Handyman goes home to find his wife doing the humpty hump on some guy. He goes back to Natalie's place and trims the hedges. Not being metaphorical, real plant hedges. Then Natalie and the guy go to a bar. They drink. They talk.

They come back to her place. No kissing or even a hug. Dude goes home.

Hunky's wife visits a few days later. Tells Natalie to go to this address and learn more about her husband.

No body fluids have been exchanged. No lip rubbing. No massaging of any muscle on any part of Natalie's body. Natalie sneaks in the apartment and find Hunky Handyman fwapping hard in a three way pleasure crush.

Natalie is appalled and runs back home. Hunky Handyman tried to explain but Natalie is disgusted and exit Hunky.

On the positive side; eh, this gives new meaning to gated houses and communities. I will be more open minded from this point on. I don't think I will be visiting those communities but if folks are rocking consensually it is much better than making war on somebody.

On the negative side, holy hell what just happened? A man's privacy has been invaded by an almost stranger. Sex addict or sex adventurer I cannot say because it seemed everybody was over 21 and it was a meeting of like minded people.

Why the hell did she go there?

There is more but I'm getting upset again just from regurgitation. My main problems with this movie are:

It re-enforces a bunch of bad stereotypes and movie tropes. Dark skinned black man, bad, milk chocolate and white men good. Women who achieve are bad when they achieve success. Earth mothers who pop them out can heal all with their wisdom.

1. No one thinks in this movie. They talk but there is no clue that actions have reprocussion that involve other people.
2. Happiness is tied to fertility.
3. The fear of loneliness makes the people in this movie do some stupid things. If you are going to do stupid things then do more of them so that there isn't so much talking.
4. I don't think you should plan to have children to insure that you do not wind up in an old age home. A whole bunch of boomer people that have kids are about to find out that they are this close to being placed in homes that are barely licensed.
5. I really resent that the film implies women should latch on to men without knowing what she wants, needs and, just as importantly, being able to be an adult for the other person. Not mommy, not drink buddy, or stand in for X.

If ever there was a candidate for a romantic version of Mystery Science Theater 3000 this would be the number 22 film in the series.

Stink. Stank. Stunk.

A Bit of Music on This Mighty Fine Day

March 11, 2014, 5:44 am

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On this day it seems that everyone was out on the street. The cars and buses were full of people needed a dose of warmth and sunlight.

Granted there were only two days of rain in Los Angeles; it was a hardship to delay doing what you wanted to do because of the weather.

I kid, truly. I know what is it like to live in a blizzard. To function and live your life no matter what the elements dictate. I don't do negative four degrees well and I never want to understand negative four plus wind chill factor.

I can speak from recent experience that when the heavy rains occurred these wimps...er citizens of the south land were incapacitated. Unfortunately they were driving behind the wheel of a car so, yeah. There is that.



So I went out to see what I could see. And do some shopping. If you are open to it and not to stuck up on yourself you will find amazing things and people here including mighty fine Pozole.

Once again I found myself at the Grand Central Market. I wish I knew who the band was so that I could give them credit but there was no signage that I could see to identify the musicians.

There was a sign in back of them from the International House of Music; perhaps they were the company that was sponsoring the performance. I don't know.  I checked the websites of the music store and Grand Central Market, there was no listing for the band.

There was nothing on Twitter either. Which should be a lesson to companies using social media. Use it correctly or give up the ghost.

Double Nickles and A Penny

March 21, 2014, 7:36 pm

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Oh my. This is not a bad day. It is ok. I'm fine. It is just that I am older. Maybe a touch wiser but I don't feel any burst of wisdom. I need a couple of gallons of the stuff. I seem to get it in droplets.

A few days ago I turned my shoulders and felt this twang thing. It lasted but a second. I remembered it for hours. What did I do? Did I walk too much? Not enough? Maybe it is the potassium thing? Or the magnesium thing? Maybe I slept crooked?

Maybe it is "you need to keep your lips from any form of chocolate" thing?

What you not so old people need to know is that you will carry your 15, 30 and 45 year old person with you as you age. I still wanna do the Time Warp again. I was on the front lines of One Nation Under a Groove. I will always want to Shout and kick my heals up.




But there will be some days I just don't feel like it.  And that is ok. But on the days when I do want to Shout you should get out of my way and let me get to flapping. You can laugh at me but I am still here.

All of me.