AT TUESDAY’S SPECIAL BOARD MEETING, after Supervisor John Haschak first announced that the Board would discuss the big, recently completed $800k “draft” state audit report — some 18 months in the making — for a relatively short time of not less than half an hour, the Supervisors spent about three hours in closed session before Haschak returned to say, “Nothing to report.” They didn’t even provide a date for the release of the audit report. There was no pjublic comment.
LOTS OF AMERICAN controversies can't be talked about in realistic terms. If, for instance, you constantly describe all the people living on the streets as “homeless,” it ignores basic distinctions: Yes, there are major shortages of low-income housing. But a lot of the distressing public behavior attributed to the “homeless” don't have anything to do with shelter. It occurs because people are allowed to be helplessly drunk on the streets, or publicly nuts from drugs or are one of the large bloc of people living outside because they're crazy with or without drugs. Old-fashioned bums of the type who wander around without bothering anyone are a tiny minority of the “homeless.” All three groups of the drunk-drugged-crazed homeless need to be hospitalized, which is what we used to do with people incapable of or unwilling to care for themselves, but what we are unlikely to ever do again because the upper income people in this country don't tote their fair share of the social load.
A HOMELESS GUY explained his homelessness to me. “I get social security and some food stamps. The cheapest rental I can find in Mendocino County is about $900 a month, and that's in Willits but I'd probably get kicked out because I can be loud when I'm drunk. I can't drink and pay rent, both. And I'm not going to stop drinking. I either find a free place to stay or I live on the streets.”
SPEAKING as an extremely senior Senior Citizen, I get real tired of Senior whining for special consideration for this, that and the other thing. All the breaks ought to go to the other end of the age spectrum, the young people who will reap the consequences of the catastrophes us Seniors have wrought. Of course the young don't vote because they can't, and our spine-free office-holders know that Seniors do vote, hence the endless pandering to the elderly at all levels of government. I see the local Seniors pulling up in their SUV's for tax-subsidized lunches and note that lots of them are registered Republicans who've cast a thousand votes over their lives to squeeze everyone but themselves. Give me the name of one local Senior who can't buy his own lunch and I'll buy him or her a Boont Berry Bean Burrito. But only one.
FRISCO HIGH RISES. (An on-line reader writes re The Big One): “I was a field engineer in SF during the construction of 101 California St. and many lesser skyscrapers (always loved that word) constructed ca. 1976 to 1986. 101 Calif's foundation was about 1500 200 foot concrete piles sunk in bay mud and topped with 6 foot of concrete. No bedrock. Think toothpicks in jello. The building was designed to settle 2” into the mud when completed. It settled 1 7/8.” The ground level steel columns are 2 foot thick tapering in size as the reach the 48th floor. Column welds, independently inspected, every 2 floors. Every floor was designed to be an earthquake resistant steel and concrete diaphragm. Although I have some doubts about the piles in mud the rest of the structure was impressive to a young engineer. Then there's the marble fascia. Huge sheets of beautiful Italian marble 2 inches thick in 4' x 8' slabs. Heavy. Thousands of them. Each held on by a pair of little 1” thick steel clips that were epoxied and screwed on on site. Glue and little screws. I can really imagine these connectors failing in a quake and plummeting to the street in a hail of one ton stone missiles. Never mind the floor to ceiling glass windows. Have a nice day.”
FORT BRAGG'S TRASH, back in the day, was tossed into a long wooden chute that shot the trash into the sea off what is now Glass Beach. Glass Beach, in fact, became Glass Beach when the sea returned some of the battered bits of trash to the beach just north of the mill. That method of disposal became undesirable 60 or so years ago and the east end of Road 409 at Caspar became the area dump. But a neighborhood built up around the Caspar Dump, and the Coast's population of dedicated consumers grew ever larger until now, when Caspar is out-moded and the neighbors are threatening to sue to get the dump, which is now a transfer station, not merely a place where locals can heave whatever over the side. Jerry Ward former owner of Solid Waste of Willits owned the Caspar transfer concession as he owned most, if not all the outback trash transfer stations, including Boonville and Gualala before he sold his company to Ukiah-based Redwood Waste Solutions a couple years ago. Ward maintained a larger transfer station in Willits. He rightly enjoyed a reputation for keeping rates down while getting much of Mendocino County's trash Outtahere.
JOE SCARAMELLA was 5th District supervisor from 1952 until 1970. We interviewed him in 1996. Among the subjects we asked about was the Caspar Dump, now a “transfer station”:
AVA: The Caspar dump was Fort Bragg's idea originally wasn't it?
Joe Scaramella: No. Hell no! You're looking at the so-and-so who put that there.
AVA: Is that right? Because there weren't very many options?
Joe: Well, what was happening, what we had to deal with, was that you could no longer simply… Like everybody did including the city of Fort Bragg — they were dumping everything up there at Glass Beach. The whole damn thing. The sewer was running wide open into the ocean at that time, see. And Fort Bragg was not doing a damn thing about it. And I had the problem down on this end [The Fifth District from Mendocino south to the Sonoma County border]. Mendocino was dumping right over the bluff too. Right over it! All the stuff was going down there.
AVA: Sewage too?
Joe Scaramella: In one case they were using the storm sewer as sewage drains; they were dumping down there, yeah. People are a problem. You get a million people in a square area and hell… I would tell people, “I can go behind a stump and relieve myself, but I can't do it on Fifth Avenue in New York. Why? Because the people are there. That's why you can't do it. So the idea was that these people were coming down here and we had to do something about it. Point Arena… I got the County to fix that up. We put up a garbage dump there so you couldn't back up into the ocean. But then the lady who owned it, the Stornetta Family, said that we had to cut it out. So we had to find another place. And I was stuck with the responsibility — well, I willingly assumed it — to find some places where people could get rid of their trash. From down here on the South Coast and on up to Fort Bragg. Mendocino was a case in point. Hell, I tried. I looked over heaven and earth. I went all over. Naturally nobody wanted it. Who wants a garbage dump nearby?
AVA: The options are always so limited?
Joe: Yeah. So I got the Health Department — they were the ones involved obviously, I got the person there, I can't remember her name, with me and we went out there where the Caspar dump is now. We bought these acres. I bought them. I went down to the Caspar Lumber Company in San Francisco — made two trips down there — they were going to hold me up on the price. I said, “Ok, fellas, we'll pay it, but the assessor will be involved and it will end up costing you more in the long run.” So I got it and I got the 20 acres out there at a good price. It was thought to be a huge area where nobody would ever want to live. Naturally Fort Bragg got into it. They had their trash problem. I said, “Well, this ought to be a joint enterprise.” So they created a joint venture and therefore Fort Bragg got into it. But I started the gol-darn thing. Fort Bragg hadn't done a thing. So that “cultural center” in Fort Bragg was just dumping everything into the ocean.
AVA: And as far as you’re concerned they still would be today?
Joe: You know something? They still have that attitude up there. It's just the same now.
FRISCO HIGH RISES. (An on-line reader writes re The Big One): "I was a field engineer in SF during the construction of 101 California St. and many lesser skyscrapers (always loved that word) constructed around 1976 to 1986. 101 California's foundation was about 1500 200-foot concrete piles sunk in bay mud and topped with 6 feet of concrete. No bedrock. Think toothpicks in jello. The building was designed to settle two inches into the mud when completed. It settled 1-7/8 inches. The ground level steel columns are two feet thick tapering in size as they reach the 48th floor. Column welds, independently inspected, every 2 floors. Every floor was designed to be an earthquake resistant steel and concrete diaphragm. Although I have some doubts about the piles in mud, the rest of the structure was impressive to a young engineer. Then there's the marble fascia. Huge sheets of beautiful Italian marble two-inches thick in 4-foot x 8-foot slabs. Heavy. Thousands of them. Each held on by a pair of little 1” thick steel clips that were epoxied and screwed on on-site. Glue and little screws. I can really imagine these connectors failing in a quake and plummeting to the street in a hail of one ton stone missiles. Never mind the floor to ceiling glass windows. Have a nice day."
WHERE DOES SHARON STONE LIVE
by Bruce Anderson
I was paused at the overlook at the edge of the Golden Gate, contemplating the fabulous history stretched somnolently before me as if it were not merely a stretch of water with a beautiful bridge across it. Or, then again, I might have been thinking of dinner. Or the Giants. But that splendid vista really does get one out of the usual trivialities.
Two women, mother and daughter I assumed, approached. “Excuse me,” the younger of the two said, “are you familiar with this area?” I said I was, and I truly am because it's one of my favorite walks, although I doubt I could pass a docent's test.
“We want to see Sharon Stone's house.”
Whose house?
“Sharon Stone's house,” the girl replied as if a random old guy should not only know someone named Sharon Stone but know where she lived.
“You know, Sharon Stone the movie star,” the girl clarified.
Blonde celebrity vaguenesses occurred to me, but ever since Marilyn Monroe they tend to run together. I'd recognize Marilyn anywhere!
“She lives out here somewhere,” the girl assured me. I knew for a fact Ms. Stone didn't live next door to me in my prosaic neighborhood of furtive figures glimpsed only on garbage can day as they hustle their containers in and out of mysterious passageways. If movie stars lived anywhere nearby it would be Sea Cliff to our immediate west.
By then, the subject had changed. “How do we get back to downtown?” the girl asked.
Not by wandering around asking people where Sharon Stone lived, I thought. The older woman had hung back, letting the young one do all the talking, although to me mom would have been a more age-appropriate interlocutor. I steer clear of my fellow citizens in the 14-50 age range, although as a mathematical proposition I'm sure some of them are probably sentient beings.
I told the girl and Silent Mom that their best bet for downtown would be to walk to the bridge and catch an inbound bus, the 28, then transfer to the 30 Stockton. I liked showing off my local guy insider-ness.
“But we want to walk,” the girl said, as if I'd ordered her to take the bus. Neither one of them was togged out for long-haul pedestrianism. Both wore what I guess would be called dress shoes with heels, not high heels but certainly not walking heels. There's no as-the-crow-flies route downtown from where we stood.
I told them if they wanted to walk back to San Francisco's beating heart, they should go back to the bridge, proceed on down the hill to Crissy Field, and just keep on footin' it in a southeasterly direction on the edge of the Bay until they got to the Ferry Building or whatever venue they considered downtown. As the pair trudged off in the direction of the Bridge as I'd suggested, Mom said, “See, I fuckin' told you!”
JUST FINISHED READING David McCullough’s fascinating 1983 account of the 15 years of construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, in many significant ways a forerunner of the Golden Gate Bridge: ‘Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge.’
Probably the most interesting (and previously unknown to me) part of the story was the underwater construction of the two “caissons” on either end of the bridge which are — like their counterparts under the Golden Gate — invisible and extremely difficult to construct, yet which form the basis of the giant towers from which the suspension cables (bundles of wires, actually — another story of its own).
Back in the late 1800s when the Brooklyn Bridge was built nobody had ever done a steel-wire suspension bridge near as large. The Brooklyn Bridge was conceived, designed and planned by an old-fashioned German-born engineer named John Roebling who died before construction began. His son Washington Roebling took over, but he became severely ill from his time underwater working on the caissons, contracting what was later called “the bends” from rising from the underwater pressure chamber too often too fast. (By the time the Golden Gate was built, bridge builders knew about the bends and took interesting precautions to prevent workers from suffering from it.) He went into seclusion to recover and his wife Emily Roebling took over as chief engineer for the next ten years to complete the project with Washington Roebling acting as a silent advisor from his home. 27 workers died. (11 died during the Golden Gate construction.) A major underwater fire broke out and had to be flooded to be put out, setting the project back for months. Financing was precarious… Highly recommended. Right up there with Steven Ambrose’s ‘Nothing Like It In the World,’ another epic story: the construction of the transcontinental railroad. — Mark Scaramella
ELISE COX:
I was told, but didn’t get a call back from the alleged victim, that someone was arrested in Fort Bragg for blowing a .03 … Also. one of the stories I’m working on involves a drunken man getting asked to leave a local bar, he does, and then the bartender calls the police and reports a fight, even though there is no fight, and then the police show up, one comes up behind the drunken guy and takes him down, tases him, and charges him with resisting arrest (all conveniently out of sight of the cameras) …on the stand, I’m told the officer says the drunken people were first offered rides home … we are waiting to see if that is on the bodycam footage (I reviewed the footage already, so if it disappears that’s gonna be a problem) The alternative would have been to respond, observe the situation, notice that the drunk guy who had been asked to leave the bar was walking home (walking, not driving) … and leave everyone alone. The people of Fort Bragg and the County are paying for these “police services.” Public safety is at least 30% of the general fund. We have elders in this county who barely get enough to eat and police officers taking home elevated salaries based on these “services” -- while other crimes are minimized. I know a lot about this particular arrest but what about other arrests where the bodycam footage isn’t voluntarily shared with a reporter? There are good officers who work for the FBPD, this behavior hurts them.
LOCAL HISTORY
recalled by Bruce Anderson
THE OLD ALBERTINUM PROPERTY on Ukiah’s Westside was sold some years ago to the ever-larger Buddhist presence in the Mendocino County seat. The Buddhists own the 90-acre former state hospital site at Talmage, which they bought for a literal song some 30 years ago when the County of Mendocino declined to pick it up as surplus state property on the grounds that it might cost too much money to maintain.
THE BUDDHISTS have since put the Talmage property to productive use, converting it to schools, an excellent vegetarian restaurant and, of course, large set asides for the mystic mumbo jumbo that drives the Buddhist’s worldviews.
THE ALBERTINUM property on Ukiah’s Westside began life in 1895 as an orphanage and boarding school run by the Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose. In the middle 1960s, as America’s social glue began to melt and more and more children were essentially orphaned by crazed, drug-addled or merely incompetent parents, the Greek Orthodox Church took over the five-acre property to operate an institution for disturbed children called Trinity School. (Prior to the 1960s, psychotic children were relatively uncommon and were placed in state hospitals.)
KEVIN STARR, the renowned California historian, is the Albertinum’s most prominent graduate.
TRINITY SCHOOL was run by a lugubrious Orthodox priest called Steve Katsaris who lost his daughter to the murderous cross-town charlatan, Jim Jones, then fleecing his flock in Redwood Valley and, for a time, serving as foreman of the Mendocino County Grand Jury. Miss Katsaris became Jones’ chief aide. She falsely denounced her father as a child molester, the ugliest accusation a child can make against a parent, but one that Jones, a mega-perv himself, often deployed against his enemies. That accusation, of course, is now common in child custody disputes as our disintegrating society further disintegrates.
THE GREEK ORTHODOX CHURCH closed Trinity School for good in 2009 and the property, valued at around $4 million, was vacant until the Buddhists picked it up. The church maintained a single group home on Hazel Avenue, Ukiah after the main campus was closed.
ORPHANAGES seem to have somehow gotten a bad rap, but they were common in America and on the Northcoast through the early 1960s. There are many affectionate memoirs written by men and women whose parents either abandoned them or consigned them to orphanages, which were much more intelligently and humanely run than the unstable, mercenary system that dependent children suffer in today.
THE FOLLOWING TESTIMONIALS give us some idea of what the old Ukiah orphanage was like:
“YES, many people didn’t want to be in a residential school (including me). But, as such facilities run, the Albertinum was among the top 5% in the way they treated their students. I know, my mother put me in several others over the years (and didn’t pay the tuition after a few months). I knew my mother didn’t want me around, and she was so irresponsible that she wouldn’t even pay for the privilege of getting rid of me. At the Albertinum, I found love, affection and was encouraged for the very first time in my life to use my mind. I was introduced to Choral Music, Gregorian Chant, and I have been musically active ever since. They encouraged me to be creative in many ways, they encouraged reading virtually anything and everything (I devoured their library). They even gave me my first pair of roller skates, and I learned to skate there at the age of 9. I also learned to play chess there, something I have done ever since. Had it not been for my experiences in the 2nd half of the 4th grade, the summer between 4th and 5th grade (when I got to go to Camp St. Albert’s, the only summer camp I ever went to), the first half of the 5th grade, and then the entire 6th grade, I doubt if I would have maintained my sanity. Had it not been for those Dominican Nuns, I doubt very much if I would have my Doctorate today… Had I not learned, at the tender age of 9, that there was something in this world besides cruelty, abuse, lies, punishment, and virtual total rejection, I suspect I would have ended up in prison or in a mental hospital.””…
“TO GIVE YOU an idea just how tolerant those nuns were, I climbed up into the trees around the swimming pool, and hid there when the nuns were going to go swimming. They all filed in in full habit, and went into the changing rooms. When they came out, they were in somewhat severe plain black swim piece swimsuits. I was caught looking at them, and was held for Mother Superior to deal with me. She asked me why I had done such a thing. I told her that all of the boys said the nuns shaved their heads, and that they had their breasts removed when they became nuns. She laughed, told me that I now obviously knew that this was not true, and sentenced me to sweep the courtyard behind her office. Really mean, wasn’t she? (Needless to say, I was the hero of the dorm for a few days though.) I went there before Vatican II, under the rules of the old church. I was not a Catholic, but went to Mass and the first time, I went up to communion with everyone else. I had no idea what was going on, but I just did what everyone else did.
“IF YOU REMEMBER, the nuns always went into the front two rows of pews, right up by the communion rail. I got up front, knelt down when the guy next to me did, and waited. The priest came along, and because I had been watching, I stuck out my tongue. He put something hard and dry on it. I stood up, turned around and took the host out of my mouth and looked at it.
“IN THOSE DAYS, no one but a priest was allowed to touch the host, and you never, ever chewed it. I was right in front of Mother Superior when I took it out of my mouth. I heard a gasp all over the chapel, and then I put the host back in my mouth and chewed it. Another huge gasp. When I got back to my pew, the boys on either side moved as far away from me as they possibly could. I think they believed a lightning bolt was going to get me. I knew I had done something wrong, but I didn’t have a clue what it could possibly be.
“AS WE WERE LEAVING, one of our prefects pulled me out of line, and said that Mother would want to speak to me. Now I really knew I was in trouble. Mother came over, and asked me if I had made my first communion? I nodded yes, and then she asked me, How did you do it? For some reason I blurted out that I had said it twice. She laughed, and gently told me that Communion was reserved for Catholics that had made their first communion. I was more than welcome to attend Mass, but please don’t go up to communion again. That was that, and I went to breakfast. The other boys were amazed that I was not expelled, or at least flayed alive or something similar. Now, you tell me, if those nuns were so indifferent, so mean and uncaring, how did a non-Catholic kid get away with the kind of stuff I did? I was a good student, but not that good.
“I WENT BACK to visit that school numerous times after I went back home permanently. I was always welcomed by the staff, and by all of the Nuns. (And no, I did not come from a rich family, quite the opposite. In fact, my mother did not pay any of the tuition for the last five months I was there, and they never cut off my allowance, my store privileges, etc…”
NEW MULTI-PART PODCAST: THE FIGHT TO PRESERVE THE REDWOODS AND THE BOMB ATTACK ON ACTIVIST JUDI BARI.
Season Two of iHeartPodcasts’ “Rip Current”
On May 24th, 1990, a pipe bomb detonated in a car driven by Judi Bari, nearly killing her. She was a radical environmentalist leading the effort to stop the timber industry’s clear cutting of redwoods in northern California. Season Two of iHeart Media’s “Rip Current” podcast explores California’s Timber Wars of the 1980s and 90s when Earth First! sought to end the overcutting in Humboldt and Mendocino counties. It also looks at the context in which the crime took place, one of environmental destruction, social change, and the balance between environmental protection and the needs of workers in the timber industry.
Starting in 1985 with the junk-bond financed acquisition of Pacific Lumber Company by Texas financier Charles Hurwitz, large timber corporations changed their harvesting tactics, dramatically increasing the rate of cutting and endangering the largest swaths of redwood forest still in private hands. Seeing what appeared to be an irreversible environmental disaster, Earth First! Initiated a campaign of direct action against the logging companies. Among the most effective and polarizing figures in this effort was Judi Bari, a smart, charismatic woman who brought new ideas to organizing the opposition.
Rip Current host Toby Ball explores the bombing of the car that Judi Bari was driving in Oakland on May 24, 1990. Bari’s injuries were grievous and affected her until her death from cancer in 1997. The bombing came as Bari, Cherney and Earth First! activists were planning a months-long environmental campaign dubbed “Redwood Summer.” Bari and Cherney were initially charged with carrying the bomb materials. Cherney and Bari’s estate would later win a $4.4 million civil judgement against the FBI and the Oakland and San Francisco for rights violations following the bombing.
The bomber has not been identified. “Rip Current” looks at the investigation, largely undertaken by documentary filmmakers because law enforcement did not seriously pursue the investigation after Bari and Cherney were cleared.
Judi Bari’s story still resonates today and shows what happens when people are willing to risk all in order to stop environmental destruction.
In telling this story, the season will explore:
- Earth First!’s campaign against the increased cutting of redwoods.
- The opposition to Earth First! from timber corporations and timber workers
- The changing character of California’s Mendocino and Humboldt counties
- The lack of investigation after Judi Bari and Darryl Cherney were determined to be innocent.
- The strange cast of characters who were implicated at one time or another, including an ex-husband, a gun-toting socialist, an anti-abortion zealot, and the FBI.
- The debate that still rages between Bari’s supporters and the journalists covering the story.
- Judi Bari’s legacy in Mendocino and Humboldt counties and in the environmentalist world.
Toby Ball is the host and creator of Rip Current. Season one told the story of Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme and Sara Jane Moore, the only two women to try to assassinate a US president. Toby is also the creator and host of iHeartPodcasts’ “Strange Arrivals,” a look at the psychological, social and scientific issues UFOs and exterritorial lore and Grab Bag Collab’s “More Like Ancient Fail-iens,” a weekly show about the History Channel program, “Ancient Aliens.” He also co-hosts the long-running podcast “Crime Writers On…The Original True Crime Review,” and authored the critically acclaimed crime novels “The Vaults,” “Scorch City” and “Invisible Streets.”
Toby is available for interviews. He can be reached at [email protected] or 603-205-3316.
Rip Current recently launched with new episodes available every Wednesday.
https://www.ripcurrentpod.com/all-episodes
SUPERVISOR WILLIAMS' long response ostensibly to Chris Skyhawk was A-I generated.
“…Maintaining trust with the diverse partners who negotiated this compromise is essential. Breaking those ties now, after years of delicate consensus-building, would not strengthen Mendocino County’s position. It would leave us isolated. The coalition exists because no single jurisdiction can solve this alone.
Thank you again for your engagement and for your interest in water security for Mendocino County.
Sincerely, Ted Williams”
Bob Abeles:
The above message scores 100% AI generated. According to the gptzero tool, “We are highly confident this text was AI generated.”
JAYMA SHIELDS, The Mendocino Observer
By now I trust you folks have full bellies and happy hearts. On Thursday we spent the day volunteering at the 101 Grill & BBQ restaurant in Laytonville helping at their community Thanksgiving Dinner. If you were an EBT card holder, your meal was free, otherwise it was $10/plate with proceeds benefiting Pam & Susan’s North Pole Toy Express-our local toy drive.
It was a beautiful day immersing ourselves in community and good cheer. I sure miss Dad on Thanksgiving. If we were successful, we got him to sit down and eat a plate, better if he had a beer or two. And even better yet if we convinced him to either shut the water plant down early or postpone writing his column for the UDJ so he could watch one of our family’s traditional holiday movies- it was either Miracle on 34th Street or Harvey. If my dad allowed himself the dinner, beer(s) and movie, he would fall asleep on our couch for a few hours. That was a successful Thanksgiving for us knowing he got a few hours of down time and a full belly.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Take care.
LEW CHICHESTER:
Thanks for the photo of MacNab’s Mens Wear in Ukiah, a brief reminder of a past which is still with me. I’ve been in and out of Ukiah since before 1966, and remember what a pair of Levis jeans cost then. About $7, which for me was barely affordable, not to mention the “Warranted to be a Pendleton” wool shirt which was way too expensive to buy new. I got my Pendletons at the Goodwill, but the Levis had to be purchased new because there were never any in the used clothes stores. A few months ago, back in Ukiah again, I went to MacNab’s to check on the inventory and the old guys who work there. Wonderful store, it seems like the inventory is exactly the same as sixty years ago. The best hats, still with the Pendletons on the shelves (but they don’t seem to be quite as good as I remember) and Levis 501 with the button fly. I bought the Levis, they cost in MacNab’s a bit over $60, and can be found cheaper of course in any number of online/big box outfits. But the hand written paper receipt is priceless, that a store like this even exists anymore is priceless, and by the way, a $7 purchase in 1966 should inflation calculator out to be $70 now. So if you have to go to Ukiah, blow off the big box stores down by Walmart and at least walk around in MacNab’s time machine. On State Street, across from the courthouse.
MARIE MEYER:
Call for help: Found out today from the county that the many popular units being made by companies known as "tiny homes on wheels" are not allowed as sole residential dwelling units anywhere within the coastal zone (up to 5 miles inland). This policy is preventing many people of the lesser or middle class from being able to develop and live on land here. Home owners: you may not care; because you are free to have one ADU on your property to rent out or do with as you please. But — just one?! No wonder rent prices are so high here! 2) Environmental Health does not allow the installation of incinerating or composting toilet systems unless a traditional septic tank system is already in place. This makes no sense. Incinerating waste into ashes is the most sterile way to deal with it. I'm pretty sure it's what the sewage plants do… ? Think about how much waste is being pumped out of septic tanks and trucked out to Waste Management. How is that better for the environment than incinerating it on site? Worried about what burning waste would smell like? That's where catalytic conversion technology needs to be utilized to sequester carbon into compostable liquid. Soon they'll be telling us our well water is being taxed and we can't have new homes being built with wood burning stoves! This is bad policy leadership in CA using the environmental concerns as an excuse instead of pushing for the use of technologies we already have and are primarily being used in other countries. If you are interested in helping affect policy change, write to someone who has the potential to appeal for it. Please join me in sending an email to Marlayna Duley at [email protected].
Or why not just write the Governor while you’re at it? I'd love to see the coast become a place where people can afford to develop. I've known a few long-time landowners over the years who are eternally living in fear of the county because they are still using illegal outhouses (giant holes in the ground) because they have never had enough money to permit and install septic. It’s sad. We should have better solutions for all the seniors and people of lower or middle class.
ON-LINE COMMENTS OF THE WEEK
[1] I live in a well-ordered Red City without rampant crime and with a mayor and police chief who care about the residents here and don't want them tortured by murderous gangs and thugs or their neighborhoods burned to the ground! BTW I live in the Free State of Florida. Need I say more?
[2] Bitcoin (and crypto) is obviously a scam intended to enrich crooks by making it easier for them to hide their gains, evade taxes, and swindle credulous “investors” (aka speculators) who hold on too long. They also pay grocers to have bitcoin machines in their stores to help the crooks swindle foolish gullible people. Let’s hope it soon reaches its real value, zero.
[3] People who denounce medically assisted euthanasia are forcing their own fear of dying onto those for whom it is a great relief.
My mother lived to 95 and her last five years (at least) were hell. She couldn't go anywhere on her own, was totally dependent on others for basic life support. She had terrible insomnia but her doctors wouldn't give her sleep meds because -- wait for it -- they didn't want her to become addicted. She saved up other meds that she could use to dispatch herself but didn't, because she feared they'd fail to kill her but leave her in a vegetative state.
I wouldn't wish my mother's condition in her last years on anyone. Until you've experienced it yourself or in another, you can't know why for some who are in extremis it's a blessing (with proper safeguards to ensure it's truly voluntary).
[4] “Froot Loops, man. Froot Loops. There's your gateway drug. Think about it. Froot? Loops? They are all the same flavor! Leaves kids wanting more…MORE!”
[5] This morning I was out walking off my turkey hangover when I noticed a man sitting on a park bench next to a cardboard box.
He looked quite dejected, so I thought I’d go strike up a conversation to cheer him up.
As I got near I heard music coming from the box, so I figured this would make a good conversation starter.
”Hey Buddy, what’s in the box?” I asked.
He opened it up and inside was an old timey lamp and a tiny man playing a piano.
“Wow! That’s pretty neat.” I told him. “What’s the story here?”
“Well, I found this old lamp and when I rubbed it, a genie came out and granted me one wish. I guess I blew it, so it’s no use to me now. You might as well have it. But be careful– the genie is hard of hearing.”
“How do you know the genie is hard of hearing?” I asked.
The man looked at me and said, “Do you really think I would have wished for a ten-inch pianist?”
[6] A close friend suffered what was almost certainly a major heart attack, yet insisted it was “sternal irritation.” By the time she arrived to visit me, she was pale, breathless, and holding on to the walls as she walked. A devoted Christian Scientist, she refused any medical care. Desperate, I called a physician friend for guidance. He said, simply: All you can do is love her. That is the raft she’s holding on to. You can’t take it away. For two days, that is what I did. When she drove the 800 miles home, I knew she was dying. She passed away five days later. I thought her choice was tragic, even irrational, but I remain grateful for that advice. Sometimes presence is the only care left, and it matters.
[7] There are lots of American kids hungry and/or starving at home because we have a huge mental illness problem in US. We excuse garbage parents on the left because we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and on the right we apparently don’t even want to acknowledge it exists. I have worked in food shelters. You will meet hungry people. Some are freeloaders. Some are elderly. Some are down on their luck. They are all sorts of people. There are programs that feed the hungry besides the government. So the real argument is not whether we have a moral obligation to address food shortages. We do, period. The real argument is whether government resources are being utilized appropriately to help solve problems. VERY debatable. Having said that, once we DOGE through the US AID and foreign welfare we can look more carefully at SNAP. Priorities matter.
[8] Back in 2018 I was working as a contract programmer/data-analyst at a major media analysis firm. You've all heard of it.
The walls were plastered with TVs. Notably, the only station I never saw on a TV was Fox News. I'm not a Fox News booster but the absence of that station was conspicuous given that there were multiple sets showing ABC, CBS, NBC, MSNBC and CNN.
What particularly struck me was how I could walk from room to room and often not just hear the same story but the exact same wording coming from different stations.
The synchronicity was stunning. I specifically remember the time around the confirmation of Gina Haspel as CIA chief and how the phrase "Trump's controversial choice" was being parroted on every set.
It seemed completely overt and unhidden. I guess part of the strategy is the assumption that few people would notice the "scripting of the news."
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