City Room™ - Chicago Matters - The End of the Pipe

City Room™ - Chicago Matters - The End of the Pipe

"The End of the Pipe-
We may have dodged a tornado, but last night's storms left severe damage in their wake. Once the flooding subsides, where will all that standing water go? Millions of gallons of fresh water are flowing under chicago right now. And as our region grows, more and more people want to divert some their way.

As part of Chicago Matters: Growing Forward we bring you the documentary The End of the Pipe, by independent producers Laura Starecheski and Gregory Warner. Come along on the near-epic journey of our water as it moves from Lake Michigan, into the city and beyond to the suburbs.

Along the way you’ll meet some of the people who pump, pipe, and control the future of our water. Part history lesson, part cautionary tale, The End of the Pipe brings us the awesome history and uncertain future of greater Chicago’s water supply."

I'm not late to this party. I've been a DF hippie a long time. As such, what I say has not mattered in the least. Even when I've been proven correct over time, the requirement that a mistake be admitted makes it my fault. I've come to expect no less.

From DFH to NIMBY to CAVE (citizens against virtually everything) and the rest of the pejoratives, I wear them proudly. I have no real control over what's done with my tax dollars, but I've consistently tried to express MY priorities. They always end up dismissed. The results, rather than speaking to backasswards approach, have been my fault too.

Somebody, someday will write yet another book about the opportunities missed by shunned, blindsided or assassinated dreamers....

There's a good chance it'll be their own damn fault.

Holy Shit! I've landed in OZ! -OR- Past As Prologue

The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Consider, if you will, the unsophisticated upheaval that has dogged civilization's long slow slog as it has transitioned from century to century. For most of the planet, the view's never changed. Through boom and bust after boom and bust, using exceptions and persistent exceptionalism, nations and nationalists have done what nations and nationalists do, while the teachers teach, we never learn.

For today's generations, fraught with certain uncertainty of indeterminate origin, squeaking by on hardwired optimism and perseverance, each day is an adventure and lesson not to be learned.

The sun is shining, the birds are signing.
For the Harold Arlen's, this is enough.

You're out of the woods
You're out of the dark
You're out of the night
Step into the sun
Step into the light

Keep straight ahead for
The most glorious place
On the face
Of the earth or the sky

Hold onto your breath
Hold onto your heart
Hold onto your hope
March up to that gate
And bid it open

Keep straight ahead for
The most glorious place
On the face
Of the earth or the sky

Hold onto your breath
Hold onto your heart
Hold onto your hope
March up to that gate
And bid it open

2-4 2sDay Wet Willies

New Urban Realities -OR- Eeny Meany Miney, Hey MOE!

Pave Paradise, put up a parking lot?

Having an indoor swimming pool was once considered a luxury, even by the pretentious standards of north shore wealth. Now, thanks to urban sprawl, poor urban planning, questionable building and zoning rulings, political contributions and clout, much of the city of Chicago and its inner ring suburbs are learning the science of hydraulics
in spectacular fashion.



From the City's Website:
"With an abundance of buildings, streets and parking lots, urban areas have very little green space to absorb or slow down the onslaught of water in a heavy rain. It's especially a problem in the City of Chicago, a city built on a swamp. The high water table contributes to slower absorption rates and more water flowing overland to fill the city's sewers - an interconnected system carrying both storm runoff and sanitary sewer waste.

Chicago's long and colorful history includes troublesome tales of flooded homes filled with five feet of contaminated, bacteria-carrying water from sewer backup. Residents have had to clear muck, throw out possessions and redo their basements - time and time again. It's no wonder that a solution is top priority for these urban citizens."

I'm not sure what happened to the paragraphs I originally wrote in this here space. They somehow went down the drain?
Maybe in the next deluge they'll back up?

So to update... On Monday night the PTB in our village arrayed before a capacity crowd in the village hall meeting room. The first thing people needed to know is that the village is broke. There's no money and the storm response was already costing lots of overtime and a plethora of etceteras. Then they brought in our village engineers to explain why the municipal sewers backing up randomly into homes that have never had back-up problems was a one-off fluke. A freak of nature, apart and separate from the curb, gutter, sewer and water projects of summer 2009. Different than last month's one-off fluke too which also had no relationship to the roadwork of last summer/fall.

The village will be issuing "HELPER" id tags to villagers who want to volunteer.(pending a backround check?) A facebook page has begun and now has 110 followers.
They too will try to connect those in need to offers to help.

The mayor had declared to the county that we are a disaster area. The county has declared to the state that it is a disaster area. The state has declared to the federal government that we are a disaster area.

Oh BOY!! FEMA will be sending someone to take reports. That oughta make everything swell.

Mother Nature's Pissed -OR- Biblically Speaking, It's WET!

People around here are losing their minds. They're looking for hides. They're gathering feathers and heating up tar pots.

Another climate change coinkydink? The skies opened and dumped 8 INCHES of precipitation on areas of the Chicago Metro region. The thunderstorm also triggered
power failures giving deluged residents the double whammy. No electricity to pump the collected storm waters out of preferably dry enclosures like basements, crawl spaces, kitchens and living rooms.

For the attentionally deficit, this is all too much. Spokesmodels from an alphabet soup of acronym fronted entities are throwing around their encyclopaedic reservoir of Three Dollar words as to the acceptable decorum that should be practiced by citizens. Said citizens only knowing that A) this hasn't happened to them before. B)this is the third so-called 100-year weather incident in the last month. C) their Ark building skills are more than a bit rusty, D)they are positively homicidal over their situation. They want help. They want answers. They want BLOOD!

Casa Rehctaw has not been breached. A few small trickles in unfinished space is all I've had to deal with. My trusty "emergency" pump is hard at work for a neighbor down the block whose lower level "finished basement" collected three feet of water.
I haven't done the precise math. Let's do it now... Roughly 875 square feet of basement space under 3 feet of water equals 19,608 gallons...
A month ago they took over a foot of water down there. It had almost dried/aired out enough to think about what to do next when this happened.

More rain is on the way.

Happy happy joy joy....

It's official.

There is no gravity.
The earth SUCKS.

I got a memo from the fucking cat this morning that the litter box
needs to be gut-rehabbed. Barefoot. The memo made it's point.

I've sent a message in return. You may be missed, but you won't be replaced.

How did we get here? -OR- From 70s brillance comes the explanation

The digital age hasn't quite caught up with its backlog. The pecking order for what's "important" enough to digitize is painfully subjective, but there are people trying. There's also the Information Superhighway Haystack in which finding needles isn't tough, but finding the exact, complete needle you seek can be maddening.

Way back in 1970 a troupe calling themselves The Congress of Wonders released a comedy album titled "Revolting" containing a priceless work "Star Trip". It was a parody of Star Trek TOS. (some claim the first parody of ST TOS) Bits and pieces of it show up on Morning Zoo radio as drop-ins and you might hear it on Dr. Demento, but at a little over 11 minutes, probably only for bathroom breaks.

Anyway, the thing is, for me... The main plot sums up our present circumstance succinctly. The Starship Intercourse (yeah, I know, but remember it was 1970)has a collision with a space turkey knocking it slightly off-course before being phaser-fried.

the dialogue goes:
SMOCK
Captain?

KWIRK
Yes, Smock?

SMOCK
May I remind you that since we are traveling at a rate of Wop Factor III, our collision with that turkey, thirty-eight seconds ago, has put us 13 billion miles off course.

KWIRK
Well, good heavens, Smock, why wasn’t I told him this earlier? This is the Captain speaking, connect me with engineering.

OPERATOR
I’m sorry, but that line is busy.

KWIRK
This is the Captain. Give me engineering.

OPERATOR
I’m sorry, sir, but that line is busy.

KWIRK
But I have a direct line, I’m the Captain. Operator! Operator! Operator! Did you hear that, Smock? Are my people putting me on?

SMOCK
I don’t know, sir. As you know I am the Vulgarian and jokes are beyond me. (chuckle)

KWIRK
Hmmmm...That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh. Hmph! Oh, wait a minute, we must contact engineering. My God, 15 billion miles off course

SMOCK
23 billion miles off course now, sir, if my calculations are correct. And they always are.

KWIRK
This is the Captain speaking. Give me engineering.

KWIRK
This is the Captain speaking.

PARTY GUY
(on “Captain”)
Shut up!

HUNKIE
Who is it?

KWIRK
It’s the Captain! We’re 23 billion miles off course!

SMOCK
29 billion.

KWIRK
29 billion----Operator! Operator!

OPERATOR
I’m sorry, sir, but that line is boozy, heh!

KWIRK
Smock, we don’t realize what a mess we’re in 29 billion miles off course.

LIMEY
(stupid voice)
Captain, this is engineering, Lt. Limey speaking. Do you realize we’re 34 billion miles off course?

KWIRK
Limey, I just called you! What’s going on down there?

SMOCK
Captain, according to my calculations, we’re 38 billion miles off course.

KWIRK
Thank you, Smock!!!

SMOCK
Why are you pinching your eyes together, Captain? It doesn’t help the situation nor does it have any physiological effect. Highly illogical behavior.


LIMEY
Captain, where did you go? We’re 45 billion miles off course.

KWIRK
I’m still here, Limey. Lt. Eubangdere, have the computer compu--course correction coordinates, engineering, curse creation--coor--crea--curs--uuh--engineering standby.

LIMEY
It’s about time, Captain, by now we must be 52 billion miles off course. We’re traveling faster than light, you know.

HUNKIE
Captain, Captain All the Stars have gone out!

KWIRK
Take your hands away from your eyes, Lt. Hunkie. All right, damage control, give me an estimate on the damage.

SMOCK
Well, Captain, it’s easily $27,000,000 worth of damage.

HUNKIE
Uh...$27,000,000 worth of damage?! Grrrr!

SMOCK
Well, actually, it’s only one tube that costs fifteen cents, but the service charge is enormous since we're so many light years away from the service area. That is providing they can find us anyway, seeing as we’re 200 billion miles off course.

Coping With Heat -OR- T2SP

Sunday thought -OR- Out, Out Damn Spot!

Can we have a straight up or down vote. A binding referendum on War or Peace?

The Circle Man Portends -OR- Everything Old Comes New Again

When will we learn?

What Made America Famous
by Harry Chapin

It was the town that made America famous.
The churches full and the kids all gone to hell.
Six traffic lights and seven cops and all the streets kept clean.
The supermarket and the drug store and the bars all doing well.

They were the folks that made America famous.
The local fire department stocked with shorthaired volunteers.
And on Saturday night while America boozes
The fire department showed dirty movies,
The lawyer and the grocer seeing their dreams
Come to life on the movie screens
While the plumber hopes that he won't be seen
As he tries to hide his fears and he wipes away his tears.
But something's burning somewhere. Does anybody care?

We were the kids that made America famous.
The kind of kids that long since drove our parents to despair.
We were lazy long hairs dropping our, lost confused, and copping out.
Convinced our futures were in doubt and trying not to care.

We lived in the house that made America famous.
It was a rundown slum, the shame of all the decent folks in town.
We hippies and some welfare cases,
Crowded families of coal black faces,
Cramped inside some cracked old boards,
The best that we all could afford
But still too nice for the rich landlord
To tear it down and we could hear the sound
Of something burning somewhere. Is anybody there?

We all lived the life that made America famous.
Our cops would make a point to shadow us around our town.
And we love children put a swastika on the bright red firehouse door.
America, the beautiful, it makes a body proud.

And then came the night that made America famous.
Was it carelessness or someone's sick idea of a joke.
In the tinder box trap that we hippies lived in someone struck a spark.
At first I thought I was dreaming,
Then I saw the first flames gleaming
And heard the sound of children screaming
Coming through the smoke. That's when the horror broke.

Something's burning somewhere. Does anybody care?

It was the fire that made America famous.
The sirens wailed and the firemen stumbled sleepy from their homes.
And the plumber yelled: "Come on let's go!"
But they saw what was burning and said: "Take it slow,
Let'em sweat a little, they'll never know
And besides, we just cleaned the chrome." Said the plumber: "I'm going alone."

He rolled on up in the fire truck
And raised the ladder to the ledge
Where me and my girl and a couple of kids
Were clinging like bats to the edge.
We staggered to salvation,
Collapsed on the street.
And I never thought that a fat man's face
Would ever look so sweet.

It was the scene that made America famous.
If not the love that made America great.
You see we spent the rest of that night in the home of a man I'd never known before.
It's funny when you get that close it's kind of hard to hate.

I went to sleep with the hope that made America famous.
I had the kind of a dream that maybe they're still trying to teach in school.
Of the America that made America famous...and
Of the people who just might understand
That how together yes we can
Create a country better than
The one we have made of this land,
We have a choice to make each man
who dares to dream, reaching out his hand
A prophet or just a crazy God damn
Dreamer of a fool - yes a crazy fool

There's something burning somewhere.
Does anybody care?
Is anybody there?

Hero or Goat?

Another lifetime ago I lived in a relocated-industrial-park house rented with four other 20-somethings. It was an unusual location of un-annexed property. Too close to the power lines? A semi-remote insignificant speck? The largest benefit was that it fell under county jurisdiction rather than a local municipality and sat on the far western fringe of Cook County. A serendipitous fluke of urban planning. The wainscotting of society, with all of the access to a large metropolis, without the pecksniffery, pretense, or authorities. It offered a rare opportunity for self-reliance.

The developer had poured a 10 foot foundation to receive the transplant which arrived with a 4 foot apron. A 14 foot basement beneath a four-bedroom ranch home! The property also boasted not a garage, but a machine shed, easily capable of holding 10 cars and misc. motorcycles.

For two years this was the place. It remains legendary in some of the local lore.
Small-scale Woodstocks took place there several times. Overall, we dealt with the freedom and responsibilities well, but there were three times, over the two-year span, when things happened for which we were unprepared.

The incidents were handled, without outside intervention, but not without consequence. We tried very hard to be very low-profile. We knew we had a great thing going; one that undue attention could make very ugly, so we tried to act accordingly. We had some very simple, but important rules. These were the 70s, so our rule focus was on minimizing the reasons our "neighbors" would have to complain.
We didn't drag race after 8 p.m., our landscaping was maintained, the after-party clean-up extended all the way to the road and we didn't let high-school kids join in our reindeer games.

The current Mel Gibson train-wreck, and the flurry of outrageous outrage that has ensued, reminded me of one of the incidents way back then. The 20-something son of a semi-well-known writer showed up at one of our parties. We called him "Goat" and generally liked him despite the given name with Jr. tacked at the end. Who he was/is is not important. What he did is. Eight hits of microdot. He quickly became very uncool. His training as a gold-glove boxer took over and he started walking around sucker-punching anyone he encountered. I can't say what was taking place in his head and I haven't talked to him since that event, but, needless to say, it turned the party into an incident.

The assaults were taking place on the front lawn while I was doing what I did in the backyard. The shrieks and general panic drew me out front where I saw Goat circling with another guy. The other guy obviously had some training too and could take a punch, a crowd had gathered around, ringing the combatants, as crowds do. Elsewhere around the front lawn there were several groggy victims being tended.

I had to break up the fight somehow. Goat was clearly the aggressor, so I concentrated on him and got knocked down for my troubles. From there, I executed a knee-high tackle bringing him down while calling for others to help restrain him.
Three brave souls, including his last opponent rushed in and lent a hand.
Only then did the crowd react, they began screaming, punching and kicking at Goat for his brutish rampage. It seemed everybody wanted a shot at him now that he wasn't upright and swinging and they weren't being real specific about where their feet were landing.

After several long minutes in the pile, I was able to detach and started moving people away. I went inside the house to check on victims and injuries. When I came back outside a little while later, Goat was gone. I was told that he had been tied up and loaded into the back of a pickup truck. I wasn't sure what that meant.

It turns out that the pickup belonged to the guy Goat had been fighting who drove him to the parking lot outside of the police station and dumped him, still bound, onto the pavement then drove away. Not my idea of a solution, but considering other possible options, not the worst fate. It was front page news in the weekly paper, but luckily was not traced back to our location. I'm not sure it would have been easy to explain the day/night's chain of events.

If this all sounds bizarre and foreign to your experience, I apologize for wasting your time, but if you've ever been in the vortex of a melee I think you understand.
It isn't the incidents or even the initial reaction to incidents that get scary, it's always the mindless aftermath as everyone suddenly wants to get in a few cheap, if well deserved, shots to the guy once he's down.

In the end I don't give a rat's ass about the wringer Goat was put through at the station, the hospital or from his parents who had to step up and I care even less what happens to Mel "bad publicity whore" Gibson. I just want all the cheap shotters to get their due too.

Gadzooks! It's Tough Out There -OR- This Too Shall Pass?

What the fuck.

I swear, if one more well-meaning, but serially disconnected skin sack, jumps aboard the S.S. Rehctaw, I'm gonna steer straight for the rocks. I'm not sure how anything being seriously considered or implemented alters the fundamental imbalance that is firmly entrenched.

If it all falls to pieces tomorrow, (which when taking in all of the crises and clusterfuckery into account is, at present, the most likely of potential eventualities), will you still be scanning the horizon for the cavalry? Who's gonna clean up this mess? What kind of trust fund covers end of civilization cascading failures masquerading as NORMAL function? When belief can no longer be suspended or postponed, what is the pecking order? Will the domesticated simply ignore the chaos and await the star-studded gala relief telethon?

Will there be edicts and proclamations directing the survival efforts? Have you scoped out your new digs? Determined your escape route? Cuz getting there will be half the fun ya know. Want a cutesy test to determine your future?
It's not too late for actual solutions, but that clock is rapidly running out.

Have a nice day.

And if you're looking to ways to help in seemingly small, but vital ways, stop over at Bluegal's or Drifty's place and hit the tip jar.

Need something built quickly? -OR- The Lunchtime Buzz

2-4 2sDay Long Time Ago

It's All Good? -OR- History's Exacting Tolls

It never pays to dwell on the past. Or does it? We sure spend an inordinate amount of time polishing up the turds of our history. We excuse, we shield, we redact, we rationalize, we sometimes even ponder them, briefly, then when they can't be acceptably sanitized we bury them, we dismiss them as quirky anomalies that had/have no consequence, or worse, elevate them into positive attributes. We're also too quick to accept skillfully crafted and scrubbed "official versions" as complete. Doesn't it all sound too good to be true?

Broad Lawns and Narrow Minds -OR- My Churlish and Ignant Neighbors

Our recent 4th of July festivities has ignited the usual post-fireworks fireworks. In these austere times, the number of towns that shut down their own celebrations caused a bit of a stampede to and within the places that saw no good reason to downsize or cancel their plans.

In a predictable chain-reaction, this has stirred resentment by some in my town, who don't subscribe to "the more; the merrier" line of thinking. My town is known for it's fireworks on the 4th, annually causing traffic jams along I-290 as motorists stop to watch the show. At the site and around the town, it's a day of backyard, frontyard, alley and street gatherings of family and friends. The everyday population of 15,000 triples, or more, every 4th and things stretch to accommodate.
And every year there are those whose sport is to ridicule blowing $20k on a fireworks display.

It's tough to argue when it is literally going up in smoke, but it's also hard to ignore the awe, splendor, escapism and celebratory good will that results each and every year. It's impossible to quantify the lingering effects that the countless gatherings and all-day activities add to life here. Reliving past 4ths, comparing this year's display to those past, glad in those who came to share, remembering those who can no longer take part... it's all part and parcel of the day's events.

Now this year's event is history. The buzz is mostly positive, but this year's predictable outcry has a bit of a twist. Taking a page from Arizona, a few vocal citizens are upset about the "outsiders" who "take advantage" of our events without having to pay taxes or fees for the enjoyment. "We need better border control"! As if Aliens should be rounded up and blindfolded so as not to be looking at the display.

To hear them tell it, this town, whose existence is enhanced, protected and perpetuated by its easy access to all of the amenities of the six-county Metro Chicago region, should think about gating the community to prevent "outsiders" partaking of our parties. And of course, it's not ALL outsiders, only "those people". And of course, these same people think nothing of jumping on the L, Metra, busses or expressway to avail themselves of the rest of the region's amenities. The town is about evenly split, Cubs/Sox. Mostly Bear fans. Closeted Bulls fans and at the moment ALL Blackhawk fans. They do the Art Institute, Museums, Lakefront, Millenium Park and Magnificent Mile. They dine "ethnically" all over the area, but don't see that as a two-way street?

Ernest Hemingway is said to have described his hometown as a village of "broad lawns and narrow minds." When Lil' Ernie was born, this town and his own were not even incorporated. Their borders were anything but solid. When he was seven or eight, there was a flurry of fear-driven formalizing, land-grabbing, line-drawing and renaming that more or less settled the area into the cities, towns and villages that we have today. They stopped short of erecting walls and checkpoints despite those who actively lobbied for such nonsense. They settled for making his "town" dry, while this one remained very, very WET! For almost 100 years, our main border skirmishes centered around their beer runs.

Without publicly acknowledging it, they realized that our independence was actually more INTER-dependence; that bunker building and absolute border security did nothing to enhance. Today's neighbors would do well to consider how silly their arguments really are.

Who goes there? is a question that can have various inflections, none of which are particularly helpful to anyone; least of all to anyone who calls "THERE" home.

2-4 2sDay Look Around

Gotta find stuff that makes you feel good. There's still a lot of it around once you
reject the hype and irrational fear-mongering The near-constant panic from opposite world U oughta types, despite their teeming idiot masses, really don't reach street-level living. They can be wholly ignored without impacting the day-to-day.
It's a liberating realization.


More Neon for the soul from "Forgotten Chicago"

The soundtrack might be:


Certainly a lesson there somewhere...

So the question is?

Untethered and Unhinged -OR- Dumbshit Delusionary Bi-polarism

I cannot speak coherently to the present clusterphuckery playing out. In the "If:Then" reality driving the 21st Century (so far) sturm und drang there are no islands where sanity and reason can gain footing or traction. So it is wasteful to speak of a world in which our deployed military personnel and equipment aren't occupied, neck deep, in intransigent, no option, stalemates. At least not so long as the massive sucking effects of this ongoing folly that are cascading through absolutely. every. other. aspect. of existence everywhere, is NOT part of the discussions.

Certainly not when there is no end game. No exit strategy. Nothing that contains a future not fully and elimination-ally militaristic. How disingenuous can things get?
By any objective standard, our present is EXACTLY what was warned as the outcome of Reaganomics. When Saint Ronnie put the pedal to the metal and kicked his 20-mule team into overdrive, it was certain that the wheels would fall off. But Hooooooooiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee! What a phookin' RIDE! The neo-cons mastubatory circle jerk, logically, should have been over before it began. No country can devote 110% of its revenue on war toys that should never be used. You can't defy physics and history and reality without cost or consequence. So why, oh why, is there such shock and surprise that the wheels flew off?

And why and how can this be blamed on everything except its direct causation? You broke it. You bought it. Your ways and means suck. Put your fucking hands in your fucking pockets and shut up. Don't say anything or touch anything! At least until we're back on terra firma and even then, don't lecture ANYONE on what should be done.

Not Teddy's "Bully" -OR- Dewey, Screwum & Howe

I've periodically referred to Opposite World in my missives here. The codification of its usual and customary practices, constantly and consistently reinforced legislatively, and projected as NORMAL, naturally result in less than optimal outcomes. The sideshows that shouldn't matter are all that matters. The template never changes. Reality is ignored, dismissed or twisted to purpose.

Top to bottom, side to side, it churns out unadulterated, untreated, unfettered, toxin laden feces. And that's not even the maddening part. It has gone on this way for so long that it's now NORMAL. Worse: Breaking from the norm is prohibited.

It's all catch phrases and misdirections. and contradictions. and contraindications and compounding clusterfuckery. Slopped together without purpose or form, held together with fear and loathing...

From a fringe perspective; it was all good fun and endless hours of giggly snark, until the fallout began settling on the landscape. That's partly why the spill in the gulf is just about the most apt metaphor for life in Opposite World ever.

A confluence of clusterfuckery waiting to happen. Drilling a mile deep under churning, often malevolent, weather patterns with a primary directive of profitability using land based technologies adapted for underwater use (with space-age technologies used only to guide the pick-ax to the vein)? What could go wrong? Well, EVERYTHING, but the payoff deemed worth it, because should the inevitable happen, all of the people and equipment can be written off, moved to the next site and incentivized to find the next profit center. The precedents are strong that BP will make far more than they lose. Their losses transferred, absorbed and/or passed on. One tenuous tap beneath the gulf will become two. BP's capacity to tap the huge oil field DOUBLED, while their legal and political illusionists limit and cap their liability. Is there any doubt that if BP was going to be negatively affected that they won't disappear in a puff of corporate shuffleboard? If you harbor such doubts, what platform do you have for your misgivings?

Why are there daily events, news, announcements, edicts... that send elements of our society off the deep end? Why do a patch-work bloc seemingly lose their minds with every utterance? Well, that's just the nature of behaviors in Opposite World that prevents meaningful examination or discussion. The underlying motivations for the proxy-wielding interests, sow the discord, reap the outrage. They harness the anger and confusion their policy rewrites have wrought, but to what long-term end?

Aside from arrogance and untethered malignancies, what lasting, sustainable work is being done to propel a better future?

More and Better Bullies -OR- The Definition of Insanity

July 1 marked yet another escalation in the "There oughta be a law" war on common sense. You've been warned. Formerly law-abiding citizens have a plethora of new laws to assimilate as the laws passed by our lawmakers...err..breakers tailors take effect.

On balance, many of the old new laws will no longer be enforced with the former zeal because the newer models have a higher rate of return and there are only so many hours in the day. Many of the newly enacted statutes contain serious penalties without the presumption of innocence. Forfeiture and seizure can be attached to routine traffic violations. "Administrative Costs" are the latest revenue enhancement gambit.

Consult your attorney before stepping outside.

It isn't just our LEOs who have been given new tools, un-sworn contractors and employees have been issued licenses to bully. The stated aim of the bullying is strict compliance with the LAW! The law, which after all, is fully thought out and never without unintended consequence, always equally enforced and never used as a cudgel.

Take the new Illinois law targeting slobs.

HB2388
Help will be offered to people age 60 and older who suffer from self-neglect, including compulsive hoarding.

Help? I've seen this help in action using the old laws and nothing in this measure lessens the blow. All it does is expand and give license to bully, hound and harass otherwise benign folks into submission or an early grave.

Your mileage may vary.