[135] Screed City

[135]

05/10/2022 Tuesday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, shit. I have a little bit of a pickle here. I planned on continuing the San Francisco thing until it was done, while it was fresh on my mind, but there have been some new developments that need addressing. I mean, while they are still fresh on my mind as well. So I guess I will do a doubler tonight. Not sure what that means, but I will try and keep any flowery language to a minimum. I mean, I know we all have busy schedules. Or so people tell me.

The sun cracked the skyline like an orange chested Robin cracks a pistachio nut. Just joking. There was a coup at the School Board meeting tonight. I mean, I was sent there as a ringer. I had two jobs. To nominate Scott to the position of Moderator. Which I did. Which then he was voted in. Which then meant he controlled the meeting. Which was kind of funny because this irritated this one woman that, I don't know, should have nominated herself if she was so worried about it. Or at least had someone nominate her. I don't know the rules. I mean, there was a large turnout. Like 20 people. Which itself seemed odd. But what do I know. These School Board meetings these days. Am I right? I mean, the meeting went along just fine. There were 10 articles of things that needed addressing. We got through nine of them without any real incident. A little bit of chaos. Followed by the irritated woman suggesting that we were doing it all wrong. Specially Scott for not following some rule that she wasn't able to articulate. Or, the way she articulated it Scott interpreted literally. Which kind of slowed things down. In a very absurd way. Which was funny because the Irritator then got irritated at how Scott was conducting the meeting because it suddenly became very formal. I mean, the Irritator then complained that he was doing it wrong in a different way. Which, I mean, I don't know if Scott was fucking with her or not, but it was funny. But none of this was the coup. That happened when Article 9 came up for vote.

Now the meeting took place in the Granville Town Hall. Which is this very quaint old timey New England building that you can imagine if you think about, I mean, I want to say Tom Sawyer, but that maybe is in my mind because there were kids running around outside. Peeking in the windows and sneaking around causing mischief. I mean, it was Grit and N and V, the New Landlord's kids. Of whom, is a member of the board. I mean, everyone in attendance were mostly Lefties like us. A couple ancient weirdoes. That show up to this stuff for something to do, I think. But there was a few odd weirdoes dangling around that I noticed when I got there. One kid in particular seemed like not some guy that would normally show up to these things. Then I noticed a few more. That sat all the way in the back. They seemed menacing, but so what? Everyone should be involved in these things. I just assumed they were locals that were worried about their taxes. I mean, Article 9 was a vote for two members of the board. I guess new ones? That wasn't clear to me. I mean, I was the ringer so I didn't really question anything. I assumed I was there just to nominate Scott to the Moderator thing and then vote on that and then the second thing was to nominate the New Landlord and vote on that. I didn't need to understand what I was doing. I just needed to do it. I mean, Scott couldn't nominate the New Landlord because he was the Moderator, and the Publisher and the New Landlord couldn't nominate Scott because they were both on the board. And Scott and the Publisher couldn't nominate the New Landlord because now Scott was the Moderator and the Publisher was already on the board. In fact she was the Chairman of the Bored.

[Insert Iggy Pop Chairman of the Bored]

I mean, I mention all of this because I thought it was going to be some easy thing. I nominate the New Landlord. We all say "Ay!" or whatever. He becomes the guy and we all move on. But that is not what happened. When Scott read the article and then asked if anyone had anyone to nominate for the position I held up my hand. But I was not the only one. One of the menacing fellows from the back had held up their hand too. Faster than me because Scott called on them. The woman nominated some gal called Lucy or something. Say, Lucy Vooley or something. I mean, it didn't happen, or maybe it did, but I thought I heard a gasp. I mean, maybe I gasped. I didn't expect for the New Landlord to be primaried. I mean, my face must have gone white because suddenly I was out of my element. My hand was shaking as I raised it again. I am joking, but still, I didn't expect it. Scott did the motions to put Lucy Vooley on the ballot. Then asked if anyone else had someone to nominate. He called on me. I said the New Landlord's name. He called that to a vote. Then suddenly there was a run-off. And only the people of Granville could vote. Of which I was one of them. It was a silent vote. So we all stood up and had to fill out ballots. I wrote in "New "Mad Dog" Landlord." I mean, I used his real name. But I thought that was funny to do. Then I thought my ballot might get rejected so I scratched off "Mad Dog" and put my ballot in the box. Then I went back and sat down. Then somebody got irritated and yelled:

"Okay, everyone that just voted, come back and do it right!" Which meant me, I mean, I don't think I was the only one that did it wrong, but I may have been the only one. I mean, I had to go back up and stand in line and when it was my turn I had to tell them who I was. The woman checked my name off of the list she had. Which made my vote legal. Even though I had already put it in the ballot box. After that I sat down. I assumed it would be a landslide victory for the New Landlord. But, I mean, they counted the ballots. Lucy Vooley won 5 to 4. Which meant that the three menacing people in the back and the weirdo kid that was there voted for her. There was also one other guy that voted for her too. I mean, I have no idea who it was. It was probably the New Landlord. I mean, I am pretty sure he doesn't care for doing this job. But who knows, he does have a wife at home that would have dragged that information out of him. So my guess is that it wasn't him. I mean, had she been there it would have been a tie. And then a new run-off would have happened and who knows what would have come from that. I mean, I am sure the New Landlord would have won, but I am not certain. I mean, the whole thing was wild. It just goes to show what we are dealing with right now. I mean, it's nice for civil discourse, I am not going to pretend that isn't true, but come on. These dudes and dude-ettes are 100% MAGA goons. I mean, one of the guys watched the ballot counting like a hawk. He didn't take his eyes off of it for a single second. Like, I don't know, the liberal dipshits were going to steal the election somehow? I mean, it was a great victory for them. Which is fine and all. I mean, if it is just about money and how to spend tax dollars, but I sigh just thinking about the crazy shit that is now going to be brought up in these meetings going forward. CRT, LGBTQ stuff. I mean, I fear that it is going to get gross for no other reason that that is what politics are now. I mean, shit, what next? Now, me, a guy who pays rent and has no kids in the district will have to go to these fucking meetings just to keep the Right Wing Racist Bigots from burning our fucking school books? I mean, a stink just rolled into Gran/Cock.

Professor Curly just finished her first day on set! The movie is in operation! Holy shit, right? Totally kick-ass.

[Insert I have been ready since first call from PeeWee]

San Francisco, Part Two:

Me and David hung out in the kitchen for a while after the Publisher left. I drank some cofee and ate a bean burrito that I had brought from Vermont in my bag. I ate Flammin' Hot Cheetos with it. David said that he ordered regular Cheetos but they brought the wrong ones so he had to order new ones. The hot ones were too much for him. That I could eat them because he couldn't eat them. And eat them, I did. Or half of them. It was a small bag. Plus, eating Cheetos for breakfast? I mean, I won't lie, I was very tired. The five hours of sleep was not enough. But because of jet lag my body was telling me it was nearly noon. Which is whatever, but being tired and eating poorly has a direct connection. In all the studies I read the headlines of the news articles I read say. I mean, in personal experience too. When you are tired you eat like shit. Which, I mean, that is a thing and something that should get more attention about what it means to be poor. That eating habits are not just what you eat. Not even what you have access to. The element of stress and over-work and under-sleep also factor in. I mean, shit, you are exhausted, you just need to eat something and get some rest. You have a family that also needs the same thing. I mean, there are no athiests’’ in a fox hole, as the bridesmaids say. I mean, okay, tonight McDonald's, tomorrow something healthy. But tomorrow is just as exhausting as today. As was yesterday. As will be a week from today. I mean, this shit just adds up. And like almost everyone in the fucking world, you don' t have some personal chef to make a healthy dinner for your family. I mean, I guess the thing I was thinking was "Any port in a storm," but the other one works too. The bridesmaids don't ever really care. They just get disappointed that they are never brides.

At some point David and I left the Air B&B. He had a rolling suitcase with the LED neon signs. We walked over to the BART station. I mean, I had to get a ticket or whatever, a BART card. Which was not easy. Not because it wasn't easy to use the machine or that the system was confusing, but much like the MTA the machines were junk. It took me three tries at three different machines to get one of the things. The BART card or whatever. And they had this confusing option of taking money off of the card that didn't make any sense at all. You had to pay $3 dollars for a new card, but then you also were automatically charged $20 dollars unless you pushed the button that took that money off. Which, I mean, what? I give you $20 dollars, but you are charging me $3 dollars, but in order to pay for the $3 dollars only I have to push this button 17 times? I mean, yes, of course you need to pay for the card, that is the thing, that is part of the thing, I can accept that on good faith terms, and you think I should put money on the card, okay, I can accept that too, but why not just say "A BART card costs $3 dollars. How much money would you like to put on that card?" And then what ever amount you add just adds to the original $3 dollars? I mean, it is like tipping these days, but instead of there being a 20% button the thing says "Pay 100% in tip, or subtract until the amount you would like to tip." I thought this was like the Silicon Valley or something? Of all places in the world that I would expect better, I got the worst. And the fact that the machines software was broken on two of the three fucking things? I mean, fuck all of them. Public Transportation is a right not a luxury. This kind of bullshit shouldn't even exist. Abolish turnstiles.

ABOLISH TURNSTILES.

I mean, we hung out on the platform for a while. The train came. We took it to downtown Berkeley. Where the festival was. Five stops, I think. We walked towards the place that it looked like it was happening. Downhill. There were tents set up that we could see. I mean, as we got closer it turned out that we were walking towards a farmers market. I mean, I won't lie, my interest in the book festival suddenly and dramatically faded. David was still walking on the out skirts trying to find the entrance to the book festival. I wondered off into the farmers market. Trying to see what was up. What they were selling. Who was there. What the attitude was. Weather Cubby Bubbys would fit in. I mean, I kind of got lost until David yelled at me from about 50 feet away:

"Hey, Joe! Over here!" I wanted to ignore him, but I didn't. We walked into the festival. Which was just setting up. All of it. It was early. I think it was like 30 minutes before the actual start of the thing. We walked around and around and around. Looking for the Publisher. We couldn't find her. I mean, we stopped by every single booth in the place. An open market. Chain link fence all around. Hundreds of booths. People setting up. Hanging banners. Stacking books. I mean, we went around twice before we found the booth. No Publisher. I mean, I assumed she got cold feet and flew back to Vermont. I mean, fuck this shit. All these lame-ass books with their lame-ass publishers. I mean, maybe she was over at the bar we passed on the way. Scoring a bag of the white stuff. She's show up around 3p, drunk and high, wondering what took us so long to set up. I mean, she did that at the AWP thing in Philly, why not here too? I am very much just joking. I hope you know that. I don't know where she was, but she wasn't at the booth. Neither were the people manning the booths on either side of the Whiskey Tit booth. David did the thing that needed to be done and he took the LED neon signs out of his bag and hung them from the back of the booth. He had me have a look-see about where they should go. I thought that he did a great job and there was nothing really to do about anything. I mean, I looked around for electricity for the signs, but there was nothing. Not really. I mean, I found a street lamp with plugs that would have been perfect aside from the fact that it crossed two sidewalks and a kid's reading corner with lawn. I mean, we also didn't have extension cords. I mean, such is life. Or whatever. Silicon Valley comes to mind again. Fucking bullshit. It is all bullshit. They claim they are solving our problems but they aren't. They just make "Convient" things more annoying. Which gives money to Billionaires who, for some fucking reason, don't pay fucking taxes. I mean, this is third wall shit here, but one thing that happened in the school board meeting tonight was there was a question about extra money in the budget because there was more money this year than last year. Because, I don't know, Pandemic. And that money should just go back to the taxpayers, am I right? Said the MAGA asshole. I mean, as much as I DON'T disagree that that money should go back to the taxpayer, I just really can't stand this Right Wing bullshit about money in, money out, how is everything paid for when they don't practice that in any sort of way when it comes to spending egregious monies on things that don't actually affect the local community. Like, I don't know, trillion dollar budgets for drones that just get blown up in wars that we shouldn't be fighting, or, I don't know, tax cuts for Billionaires? Or, I don't know, dumping $6 trillion dollars into the stock market because it collapses and then just shrugging that off and not giving people health care or unemployment, because, I mean, what? We are all just lazy assholes that don't want to work?

I mean, the woman tonight that suggested that Lucy Vooley or whatever the hell her name was said it like she was personally affronted:

"I mean, these are big numbers. And as someone that makes $15 dollars an hour, they are kind of hard to understand."

Yes! You are so close! Keep going! But she didn't keep going. I mean, these numbers are bullshit. Yes! You shouldn't be making $15 and hour, you should be making $20 an hour at least. Yes, the way we think about money is absurd. We are not living in a hand to mouth Economy anymore. We haven't been for, I don't even know, 50 years? Since the end of the 1970's? I mean you could argue since 1929, in fact. What you think about money is so absolutely wrong is it insane. And the point she was trying to make was that all the people on the board didn't think about money the same way that she did. Which, sure. Is entirely possible. I mean, she seemed like she was in my boat. Renting instead of owning. And that is some fucked up shit. Because if she owned a house and didn't rent and she was making $15 dollars an hour, I mean, I don't think she would be there by proxy, because the person she had nominated for the board couldn't make it there because she had Covid. I mean, no offense, but what she said was true. I don't think anyone on that board is making minimum wage. In fact, I think the person she put forward, also, isn't making minimum wage. And as much as I think that everyone on the board should probably represent the people living here, I doubt, I really doubt, that the person she got onto that board has the thing in mind that she thinks she does. I mean, we really do need to talk about money.

Fucking hell. I digressed too much. This story will never end at this rate. I mean, I know I promised no flowery language, but hell, what can you do? It is all connected. I mean, I ended up leaving David at the empty booth to go looking for something to light the LED neon lights. I found a chain store that had stuff that maybe I could use to light the lights. But I got nothing. I mean, some lady who worked there asked me if I needed help. I said:

"Well, no, I mean, not really, I mean, I am trying to figure out how to light these lights with a cord or something that is not connected to a wire if you know what I mean." She had no idea what I meant. In fact, she kind of looked at me like I was a crazy person and tried to ignore me as I looked at the cords behind the display cases. You know the ones I mean? The USB cables and stuff. The Bluetooth this and that. The battery things that charge your phone when you don't have a cord. I mean, I had no idea. I didn't understand what I was looking for. At one point I thought that maybe I could use a LED flashlight, like I could hot wire the signs and we could use the batteries on that thing to do it. I mean, I gave up and went to the Starbucks down the street. Which was it's own thing. I mean, I ordered a cold-pressed coffee. A big one. I mean, fucking Starbucks. I am not a digital native. As the bridesmaids say. I am also not a Starbucks native. I remember them forcing us to use their stupid names for things. Venti, Grande, or whatever. To this day they can get fucked. That novelty has not aged well. It sucked from day one. I mean, what are they getting at? Forcing us to use Italian words to buy stuff? I mean, sure, IKEA, Scandinavia, I mean, they have a system, things are called what they are called. That is fine. Non-American. On purpose. I mean, I doubt that probably 2/3's of Scandinavians actually understand what the IKEA names mean. The language between the three countries is kind of very different. Not only that, but the dialects between cities and towns within their own countries is not the same. I mean, I understand that it is a kind of fuck you to America and the rest of the world, but still, it's not like they are taking already existing words in a culture and then forcing the people that live there to change how they speak just to brand themselves. I mean, Starbucks is based out of Seattle. I mean, of course it started off as a novelty, but to this day, I mean, a McDouble is a thing. A THING. But they don't make you call their large fries, Venti fries. Or McVenti fries. You see what I am saying? Telling me I have to change the way I describe what size something is just because 40 years ago you were making a name for yourself and now I am forced, every single time I go into your fucking multi-national chain coffee shop, I have to pretend I am in fucking Italy just to place my fucking order? I mean, fuck you. I mean, I don't even know what I am ordering. I half expected to get a half-gallon of cold brew coffee. Because aside from the picture on the wall I had no reference. I mean, I ordered a "Grande" whatever that meant. And for some reason the thing never came. All of the people behind me got what they ordered. And their drinks were humongous. I mean, I was nervous. I thought that maybe they were brewing up a keg for me in the back. I mean, I stood there watching. Waiting. The person that took my order also asked me my name. I told her in under no uncertain terms my name was, Joe. But nobody called my name. Which was, Joe. Drinks were made. Drinks were taken. People, youngsters, came in. Took drinks that they ordered on the computer. I mean, I won't lie, I was kind of annoyed. I knew what I ordered. It was just a pour from somewhere. I tried to be calm. I tried to be understanding. I know how service work works. Things are not always as they seem. But at a certain point I couldn't take it anymore and after four different people that I knew were behind me had gotten their drink I went up the cashier and I said:

"God damn it! You liberal dip shits! Where the fuck is my iced coffee? Let me see the manager!"

Just joking. The same person that took my order asked me how she could help me. I said:

"Um, hey, I think you skipped my order." She looked confused. She turned around. The guy that was making the complicated drinks looked at me and said:

"What is your name?" I said:

"Joe." He turned around. My drink had been sitting under the cold coffee spigot for like ten minutes at this point. He put a lid on it and handed it to me. I mean, I don't know. I mean, had I just stood there and said nothing I would still be there today. I mean, I would have missed the book festival, the plane back, I mean, nobody would have ever put it together. My poor drink, just sitting there, all alone, unfinished. I mean, whatever. I am joking, but still, I mean, I don't really care that they forgot it. I have worked those jobs a million times. From dishwashing to counter work to cooking to making coffee. All of them. And as much as I understand that that work is terrible and also shitty, still, you have to be able to say shit when it is time, right? I mean, I felt like a Boomer when I complained, but had I not complained, I mean, they just didn't give me my drink. And I paid good money for it. $5.15. I mean, it was just at that threshold when I would have stormed out. Which is funny ha-ha. Had it been $3 dollars I would have said "Fuck this." And then walked away and then maybe walked back, but breeching the $5 dollar mark, it was just too much. I mean, whatever, I should have just talked to them. Which I did. But, I mean that, I really mean that, what happens behind the counter at these chain things or whatever versus what we are doing on the other side. That disconnect. It really is something. And because nobody is getting paid shit on one side, and on the other side, I don't know, we can fly out to San Francisco and just float around looking for solutions to some LED problem and maybe decide to get some coffee when that fails. I mean, obviously the solution is to make working conditions better for everyone. Especially the people at the bottom. Even if they are young or whatever. I mean, one day that will be you. I mean, when the Stock Markets fail and suddenly your 401k is bullshit and there is no safety net anymore because we voted away all the taxes for the same companies that make half of every penny that they spend on labor and buy private jets and yachts and all the land in the world and then build rocket ships to Mars because, I don't know, it is revolutionary somehow. I mean, whatever.

All I can say is that I got to merely three more things on my list about this trip. I mean, barely 1/8 of the notes I took. By notes I mean the list I made last night when I got home last night. I mean, I guess get ready for a long ride because this is just the beginning.

[Insert Mitch Hedberg Late Show]

End San Francisco Part Two