Working Class Corner/How things Feel

RSD

There is a new administration in the US.   It feels weird to me, both good and bad.

I myself am shocked that as far as the Hot Wars of Irag and Afganistan a guy as smart and supposedly well educated as President Obama, has not recommissioned the US Constabulary Service, or highlighted and supported the DOD Armed Forces Division that is a shadow of the US Constabulary Service.

The face to face with Russian Leaders on Mr. Obama’s part of recent news was a good move.

I want Russia as a State of the US.

Statehood for Russia is the perfect win win resolution to the Cold War for every practical reason nationally and internationally.

It would be the sort of sensible, and bold historical event that  would ensure a much longer human history than we necessarily deserve.

Cooperation between nations in space does give precedents for optomism within the hearts of Humankind.

It is sad that Space Nation is not fully realised, but encouraging that it is doing as well as it is.

I do hope that before I die there is a permanent  orbit and Solar System population of at least 200 souls.

A thousand robots and 200 souls with some gravity could get us though the bottleneck.

The way the war is going we must accept that unless all nuclear weapons and other Weapons of Mass Destruction are fully outlawed, vast poisoned landscapes are assured.

I do believe that it is an undo threat to my class, the Working Class, for such weapons to be in anyones public or private arsenals.   If Transcendia had any money it would be spending money towards elimanating the threat of Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Some of  that expenditure would be towards open and visible political actions.

Still, I may have to face it that some of that sort of work needs to be covert and secret.

When the spies fail, general war erupts.

The truth is that war is a constant, but the trick is simply to keep it at an acceptable level that does not interfer with business.

Working Class Corner, More, More Jobs

    During my Junior year of High School in Chicago, I did have that bag boy job for three weeks, but then I broke my ankle, and there was this play, and then the Writing Program, and I guess school was my job, though it didn’t  pay very much at all, and I would have starved if  family hadn’t feed, clothed, and sheltered me.

    Sometimes I look at it as a cruel joke that I got all my rewards and status from things I wrote, pictures I took, or performances on stage.

     Of course the War was going on, and when I graduated from High School I went directly to Toronto, for even if I went directly to college in 1971, I would still be up for the Draft.

     Foolishly my Canadian teachers at my scholarship summerschool in Bloomfield Hills had told me that they would put me up.  They worked for the CBC, and had a summer job at Adventures in Creativity.   Ron and Diane Chudley were their names.

     Well I took them at their word, and hitchiked to Toronto with 150 bucks in my pocket to flee the war in Viet Nam if I had too.

      Three weeks is a long visit.

       In otherwords I showed up at Ron and Diana’s place in Toronto, and stayed in their apartment for three weeks doing things like buying Frank Zappa records and borrowing the record player.

      They finally took me to Rochdale College and left me there.

      Somehow I paid for a month of a place to live in the building, and went out selling poems I had written on the streets of Yorkville.

       I remember getting extremely hungry and eating an entire box of donuts in a stairwell once.

       The Rochdale newspaper printed the poem I was selling on the streets without my permission and I had a meeting with the Vice President as a consequense.    He offered me a job either as a maintainece man, or as a Security Guard, and I took the Security position.

        I also started another newspaper.

        The Security Guard job involved a good number of fist fights, and other conflicts that ground many of my views as far as real enemies, and real threats, and I do not worry that much about people who simply say bad things about me.

       A real enemy throws you out a window and says you jumped.

       Some jobs are like that.   

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More Jobs/Working Class Corner

     I remember taking a long walk in the woods  after successive failures to find a job.   It was a nice damp dull day easy on the eyes and really comfortable farmer jacket weather.

     You never knew what you might find on a woods walk around Greensboro NC.

     "How did this car get here?"

     If I’d had a rifle I’d have shot the rusted brown beauty just sitting there out in the woods of no road as if dropped there by a helicopter or part of a long ago bank robbery story impossible to do more than imagine.

     Seems I got a job selling cameras at the downtown camera store somewhere around then.

     Selling cameras is a lot like selling cars from what I can tell, since you deal with "trade ins.", plus there are professional camera men same as professional drivers.

      Last time I took a job selling cameras I got fired for taking a job for a few days at 3 times the day pay.   Didn’t work again for 3 weeks, so it worked out even.

      The Raleigh News and Observer wouldn’t buy Digital Nikons at 5 grand a piece at the time because the staff reporters got free film for their side projects.

      If I was to sell cars now I’d really only be interested in Fleet Sales.

      In the High School Days Camera Store Job there were cigar smoking salesmen with real personalities and all sorts of experience and guile.  There was junk in the dark all over the place and you could spend all day with a pencil eraser cleaning contacts for the batteries in Kodak Instamatics.

      There were boxes and boxes of photographs upstairs developed and printed and never to be picked up or seen long now in the landfills of America.

       Back then some of us bought it that cheap film, and Super 8 were worth the effort and money for us artists.   I tell my interns not to bother with anything but the best equipment, though I’ll use whatever I can get my hands on.   In that was I am an honest hypocrite and my interns know it.

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Working Class Corner/Jobs

Russell Scott Day

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Work, the Spiritual Quest for the Material Necessities.

At age 11 in 1963 I started my paper route.   That business was run till I was 13 or 15?.   Summers of when I was a Boy Scout I was a Camp Counslor, and Assistant Commisary Director.

When away working at camp my younger brother and mother delivered the papers.

My brother embezzeled money from the business and I folded the business.

Later in my twenties I worked for awhile as a Circulation Manager, which is great grist for a Comedy Movie in consideration of what young paperboys in their first jobs, might do.

Certainly back in the day as is the case with most cash businesses there is an element of crime that arises out of the facts of cash.

Juke box businesses, and vending machine businesses, and cab businesses have colorful histories.

A job I had early in my working career came from my desire to build a Bomb Shelter.

In our Garden Lot I was observed digging a deep hole and an old man in the neighborhood offered me the job of painting a house for 30 bucks.

Whenever I was running out of paint he said, "Put more water in it."   30 feet in the air I got stung on my eyelid by a wasp.

The 4 foot deep and 4 foot square I had dug into the ground filled up with water and drowned rats, so one day I poured gasoline in it and threw in a match.

At the Boy Scout job, I and some others got fired for insubordination.

Oddly enough this was due to us who had fought out a terrific water battle with the Initiation crew of older Scouts, of our first year, still wanting to continue the tradition in later years.

What had been standard prior to our "administration" had been that the new crews were assembled in a room and taken out one by one to be tied to trees naked overnight covered in shaving cream and some like torture or humiliation.

We, came together and grabbing all the fire pumps fought back the superior force en masse.

It was a glorious battle.

Anyway the next year it was prohibited, and we felt cheated, and got fired.

Of course by that time I was a really good shot, and the guy that had trained me to shoot really hated the Camp Director, and they may have had some sort of fears I wasn’t aware of.

After that I think I moved and when in Chicago going to High School did about three weeks as a bag boy at a grocery store.

Got a scholarship to a Writing Program and they gave me some cab fair money I used as my allowance taking the El instead.

Did have to take a cab once due to extreme cold and had a terrific high speed curb hopping ride in a Checker Marathon.

I think I sold cameras in a camera store as my next job.

It is apparently similar to selling cars.

Working Class Corner/  Buy a Car!

Since I don’t have any money coming in from this website, or a real job, and our two old cars are clunkers that limit my range of operations, the Cash for Clunkers program is of interest.

I figure that the price of the car will go up in relation to the worthless nature of clunkers, and that the whole thing is intended to create more debt that is put on the books as assets to continue the charade as usual.

Overall I consider all the propaganda about improving economic situations, nothing but propaganda.