Arizona for Dummies

by Pa Rock
Keeper of the Welcome Mat

Today three bloggers (one national and two from local newspapers) banged out posts that, taken together, offer a fairly accurate, and somewhat frightening, portrait of this overly developed desert that is Arizona. Their comments should be bound and distributed by the local chamber of commerce as an exercise in truth in advertising. Please read on...

Arthur Frommer is a travel writer, consumer advocate, and publisher of the popular Frommer’s Travel Guides. Today on his blog, Arthur Frommer Online, he took the state of Arizona to task over the shameful exhibition of weaponry outside of President Obama’s speech to the VFW last Monday. He said in his blog that he was “shocked beyond measure” by reports of individuals showing up at the event toting guns, including one who was strapped with an automatic assault rifle.

Frommer declared:

"For myself, without yet suggesting that others follow me in an open boycott, I will not personally travel in a state where civilians carry loaded weapons onto the sidewalks and as a means of political protest. I not only believe such practices are a threat to the future of our democracy, but I am firmly convinced that they would also endanger my own personal safety there. And therefore I will cancel any plans to vacation or otherwise visit in Arizona until I learn more. And I will begin thinking about whether tourists should safeguard themselves by avoiding stays in Arizona."

The travel writer went on to suggest that this was a targeted political activity. He asked:

“If Ronald Reagan were delivering a political talk in Phoenix, Arizona, would they have felt it was proper for protesters with guns to mill about outside of the hall from which he would leave?”

Stephen Lemons, writing in our local alternative newspaper, The Phoenix New Times, pointed out that Chris B. Unknown, the man with the automatic assault weapon, had been spotted August 8th at the town hall meeting of Republican Congressman John Shadegg – and he didn’t feel the need to bring his guns to that event.

(Note: Chris B. Unknown is black – and some wags have suggested that his race may have played into the decision to use him in this demonstration so that the right wing radio station personnel who organized the protest would be inoculated against charges of racism.)

Lemons ended his tirade in the New Times with this declaration:

“So, Mr. Frommer, you have every right to be concerned about traveling in Arizona. Out state is psycho, and often racist. We’ve got more guns here than the Chinese army, and daggnabbit, we may be the next Dallas, circa 1963, if you get my drift. Here’s hoping Chris B. isn’t employed by a local book depository. At least no one can accuse him of being racist if he pulls an Oswald.”

Laurie Roberts, writing in her blog in today’s Arizona Republic, the stodgy old newspaper to which the New Times is the alternative, was dismissive of Frommer’s complaint, exercising the tired conservative saw that the truly scary people are the criminals with guns that aren’t on display. That said, she went on to post a list of things in Arizona that she does regard as scary, to wit:

“It's scary to me that we live in a state that has such inept political leaders that we still don't have a state budget nearly two months into the year. And that next year, we will likely re-elect every darn one of them. It's scary to me what our leaders are willing to give up, in the name of no new taxes. That they consider the education of our children a burden and the average Joe -- that poor schlub who isn't pulling down six figures -- as invisible.

“It's scary to me that the we live in a state that thinks so little of the little guy that our legion of unemployed are expected to live on a measly $265 a week -- a shameful pay level that ranks 49th in the nation. That's if the incompetents who run DES can manage to get these people the meager amount that is owed them and that's a HUGE if.

“It's scary to me that the prevailing view around here at the moment seems to be every man for himself and if you are one of the unlucky ones to lose your job, well then I guess you're just supposed to move on. To where or what, I don't know.

“It's scary to me that people blindly support everything that Joe Arpaio (Maricopa County sheriff) does because "he's the only one doing anything about illegal immigration" -- which isn't true but doesn't seem to matter. And thus ol' Joe can do whatever he wants. The man apparently never oversteps the boundaries that must be in place for people with badges and guns and if he does, we justify it because he is ,as we all know, "the only one doing anything about illegal immigration.

“It's scary to me that we have a governor who seems unable to govern and a Legislature that collectively seems uninterested in anything short of getting re-elected. That we have kids coming out of school with no place to go and nothing to do because our economy seems to be built on one thing and one thing only -- building houses.

“It's scary to me that too many of us think of illegal immigrants not as people but as vermin out to suck the lifeblood out of the city. Seems to me we're doing a pretty good job of that ourselves.”

Ah, yes, life in Arizona is definitely an acquired taste! My thanks to Mr. Frommer, Mr. Lemons, and Ms. Roberts for summing it up so nicely. The only significant thing that they failed to mention was the scorpions!

Arizona Gun Stupid

by Pa Rock
Sad Observer

A few days ago I "tweeted" (PaRock@twitter.com) about a couple of Arizona gun stories that had been in the local press that day. One was regarding a five-year-old boy who died as a result of firing a loaded gun that he came across in his home. The other involved a twenty-year-old male who found a pistol in a closet. He pointed the gun toward his head and pulled the trigger to prove to a friend that it wasn't loaded. He was wrong about that - but he did go a long way toward confirming Darwin's theory of evolution. Nature has a way of weeding out the inferior members of a species.

A friend of mine from back in the Ozarks who has a different view on the gun issue tweeted back and suggested that the story of the 5-year-old was an urban legend that occasionally surfaces to discredit gun enthusiasts. I will admit that the story sounded a bit contrived, but it did, in fact, actually occur in rural Maricopa County last Monday. The youth, described by a neighbor as a "sensible little boy," shot himself in the stomach and expired at a local medical center. Other neighbors described the family as "tight-knit and religious."

The doofus who shot himself in the head was in the Queen Creek suburb of Phoenix.

The sources for those stories are:

http://www.eastvalleytribune.com/story/141106

http://www.eastvalleytribune.com/story/141116

Arizona, and particularly the Phoenix area, has an abundance of stories like the two mentioned above. Phoenix, by virtue of it size (the fourth largest urban area in America), is bound to experience a large chunk of personal tragedy. But the odds of gun mishaps are increased dramatically by the continuing efforts of our state legislature to remove any and all restrictions on gun ownership, as well as the local citizenry's determination to handle guns on their own terms. Many see government safety suggestions or regulations - trigger safety locks, for example - as an intrusion into their private lives. It's often a case of "the gummint ain't gonna tell me what I can and cain't do with my guns!"

Until that attitude changes, more parents are going to be finding themselves in the personal hell where the parents of that five-year-old are currently residing.

Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys - because evolution will eventually win out.

Another Desert Menace

by Pa Rock
Macho Muchacho

The local news media reported that four people in the Phoenix area were bitten by rattlesnakes last weekend. One was a child who didn't know enough to back away. Another was a fellow who stepped off of his porch and was bitten on the heel by a rattler who was snoozing in the shade and awoke just as he was about to be stepped on. A local hospital reported that one man was bitten on the hand after he tried to pet a rattlesnake. It was discovered, to the surprise of no one, that he had been drinking prior to the incident. (Doctors at that same hospital stated that they had previously encountered people who were bitten as they had tried to kiss a rattlesnake. I wonder what drugs they were taking?)

Local doctors gave the press some pointers about snake bites to share with the public. They said not to use a tourniquet to impede the blood flow, not to cut into the bite and try to suction out the poison, and definitely not to catch the snake and bring it to the hospital. Treating the snake bite does not require the presence of the snake.

Some of my co-workers feel that snakes pose no serious threat to those of us residing within the city limits, but I know better. It's all desert. It's their home, and we are the intruders. This week I saw a roadrunner speed across the intersection of Litchfield and McDowell - a very busy place. (The roadrunner made it safely across the intersection, but the coyote who was chasing him was hit by five cars, a fat kid on a skateboard, and an anvil falling from the sky!) I know for certain that the scorpions don't turn around at the city limits sign, and I'm doubtful that the rattlers do either.

I think that being stung by a scorpion (3 times!) has hardened me as a desert dweller. That hurt more than anything I have ever encountered in life - and I lived to tell the tale. The guy who survives a scorpion probably has little to fear from a rattler. If some of those bad boys slither over my way, I may just wind up with a new pair of boots!

Vegas Redux

by Pa Rock
Desert Sage

I'm back in Las Vegas and booked in at the Tropicana less than two months after my last visit. This time I flew to the Sin City instead of taking the long drive up through the desert. The flight time from Phoenix to Vegas is 30 minutes, less time than it took me to drive from my apartment to the airport this morning, and barely long enough to force down the complimentary peanuts, pretzels, and soda provided by Southwest Airlines. (That's right! Southwest has free snacks and drinks - and your bags are checked free!) But, even with those inducements, I think that I will drive again next time. The desert between Phoenix and Vegas is magnificent, with giant saguaros, Joshua trees, craggy vistas, and Hoover Dam!

Packing for travel seems to be getting more complicated. Some of it is due to age - making sure that I get all of my various pills, the insulin, and a few syringes - as well as my trusty bifocals. And some of it is due to the techno-age in which we live: Remember when packing a camera didn't involve charging the battery? Now we have cell phones and those have to be charged as well - ditto for my new iPod. After everything is charged, the battery has to go back in the camera, the telephone has to get inside of my pocket along with the iPod, the headphones have to be packed - along with all adapters so that the whole mess can be recharged during the trip - and don't forget the laptop with its adapter and air card!

So far the only thing that I appear to have forgotten is the book that I have been reading. Just as well, I guess, because keeping all of my toys charged wouldn't have left me much time for reading anyway!

My kids will start drifting in later this afternoon. Our purpose in being here is to support Tim as a movie based on a short story that he wrote competes in the Las Vegas Film Festival. That entry, The Dying Western, will be shown on Sunday afternoon. If you would like to know more about my youngest son, check out Tim Macy on the Internet Movie Data Base (www.IMDB.com).

The Strip awaits...

Killer Joe

by Pa Rock
Drama Critic

Someday when I look back on my years in the Valley of Hell and try to identify the cultural highlights, I'm certain that tonight will have made the list. This evening I drove to the heart of Phoenix (100 East McDowell) to see the Nearly Naked Theatre's production of Killer Joe, a dramatic event that could have easily been subtitled White Trash on the Rampage!

This was the first production of the Nearly Naked Theatre that I had witnessed (and, yes, witnessed is the appropriate verb!), and it turned out to be quite an experience. The organization is in its tenth season and prides itself on provocative productions. The name, Nearly Naked,is somewhat of a misnomer, because there was no nearly to it. Of the five cast members, one man and one woman roamed around the stage in their altogether, two others qualified as nearly naked, and the fifth spent quite a bit of time shirtless. The wardrobe manager had an easy ride with this show!

But in case the nudity wasn't gratuitous enough, there was an ample serving of real language - the kind you might hear in a truck stop restroom. Skin for the eyes, profanity for the ears, and, oh yes, one of the characters smoking a joint on stage that provided olfactory stimulation for the audience. (It smelled like the real deal, but surely they were using the medicinal variety!) This play had it all!

The plot was somewhat sweet and syrupy. The grown son, a small-time drug dealer, owed money to some hoods who were going to take it out of his hide. He came up with a plan to have his mother killed so that he could get a share of her insurance money. His dad (mom's ex) agrees to the scheme, and together they bring a hit man into dad's household. Problems arise when the hit man, Killer Joe, wants his money up front. The money won't be available until mom is in the ground and the insurance company pays off. Joe finally agrees to do the job on spec, but he demands a retainer, the family's 20-year-old virgin daughter. After that it starts to get complicated. (See, I told you it was a sweet story!)

I could go on and describe the scene where the dad's new tramp wife was forced to perform fellatio on a Colonel Sanders drumstick, but I wouldn't want to spoil it for you.

In spite of the raunchiness, or perhaps because of it, Killer Joe made for an entertaining evening. The cast had fun with it, and so did the audience.

Cry Me a River

by Pa Rock
Local Observer

Yesterday evening I watched a flock of geese, flying in V formation, above Goodyear, Arizona. The geese were headed due east.

East?

It was almost dark, a time when they should have been fluffing their goose down and settling in for an evening's rest in some quiet backwater. But where is the backwater, or any water for that matter, in the West Valley of Hell? Maybe they were headed for a pool in the backyard of some foreclosed, abandoned home. I certainly hoped they were not counting on finding water in the Agua Fria (Cold Water) River. The last time that particular rocky trench contained water there were probably dinosaurs lining its banks.

My move to Arizona a couple of years ago was a rush job. I had to find a place to rent via the Internet and telephone. One of the first things I did was to study maps of the West Valley so that I could find something convenient to my work. Every map of the Phoenix area that I consulted showed the Agua Fria River meandering through the desert communities of Glendale and Avondale, close to Goodyear and Surprise. It was always colored a bright blue.

I have lived here long enough to experience rain - on a couple of rare occasions. Rain rolls off of the desert and collects in the parking lots and roadways where it causes surprise flooding. But rain never, ever causes any water to collect in the Agua Fria - I've checked!

Reluctantly, I have come to two conclusions regarding the clowns who create maps of Phoenix and its environs: 1. They are on the take from the tourism industry, and 2. They are lying bastards!

My best guess is that the geese were headed toward the Salt River which is on the other side of Phoenix proper. The Salt has water, lots of water. It laps up against Arizona State University where 50,000 young people spend their parents money riding the new Metro Light Rail and drinking designer coffee. They are lucky bastards!

And, on a semi-related note, Arizona is making plans for its share of the stimulus money that the Feds are distributing. We were told that the West Valley could get connected to the Metro Light Rail in twenty years - maybe. That was before the stimulus money was even anticipated. Now they are saying that it will still be twenty years before we can get connected to the Light Rail - but, if the stimulus is sufficient, they might be able to start providing covered parking for the Light Rail riders in the East Valley now.

They are truly lucky bastards! But until that covered parking is completed, may the yuppies have to wash the goose poop off of their little cars every morning before they hit the Starbucks! There ought to be some fairness in this life somewhere, or at least an occasional mud puddle.

Parting Shots from 2008

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Fourteen-year-old Shannon Smith of Phoenix died in her backyard one summer evening in 1999 when a wayward bullet fell from the sky and struck her. Shannon's parents were horrified to learn that the indiscriminate firing of weapons in the city of Phoenix was only a misdemeanor. Her parents and classmates worked to get a state law enacted that would make it a felony to fire a gun randomly in any city in the state. A special session of the legislature was called primarily to get Shannon's Law passed before the much anticipated 2000 New Year's celebration.

But the National Rifle Association immediately rallied their lunkheads and managed to get the special session adjourned without action. The following year the reformers were able to prevail over the know-nothings and the law was finally passed.

May the Arizona cowboy culture take at least this one night off, and may the holiday revelers be as safe in their own homes as they would be out on the mean streets of Phoenix. Surely there is a right to safety that supersedes the right to play with guns.

And while I'm on the subject of guns, here are three recent tidbits from the national press:

Assault weapons aren't really practical for hunting, so how does a slobbering redneck justify the urge to purchase one of these weapons of mass destruction? Well, they can be useful in criminal activities. Last November robbers used an assault rifle in Salt Lake City to hold up a taco stand. They also seem to be the weapons of choice for the drug cartels. So I guess that any heroic bastard who wants to drive down to Tijuana, Nogales, or Juarez and mix it up with the drug lords should have a right to die clutching an automatic weapon - but why in the hell should anyone else want, need, or be allowed to own one?

An elected official in St. Louis, angry about the ineffectiveness of the local police, is encouraging people in his district to arm themselves. Scared people with more guns: yup, that sounds like a wiener!

And then this past week in Philadelphia a man pulled a pistol in a crowded movie theatre and opened fire on members of a family who were talking during the movie. Somewhere an NRA lobbyist is drafting legislation to require all movie-goers to arm themselves! (For those too naive to know better, the NRA is primarily funded by gun manufacturers - not gun owners.)

Here are three really big lies:

More guns and bigger guns make the world a safer place. (Nope. More brains and bigger brains might make the world a safer place, but more guns equates to more danger.Let the police carry the guns and let them fire at the bad guys. If we are all firing at the bad guys a lot of innocent people are going to be needlessly hurt or killed.)

A gun in the home makes that home safer. (Nope. A gun in the home gives criminals a reason to break in. If you have a gun, you have to be ready to use it, and most ordinary people wouldn't have the stomach for it. And then there is the subject of accidental shootings...)

Concealed weapons increase personal safety. (That fool in the theatre in Philadelphia had a concealed weapon. How safe was that? What if several other people in that theatre had concealed weapons and decided to take the shooter out? Several people firing in a dark theatre would have really been a riot! And remember the last raging pissed-off driver that you encountered on the road. Do you honestly want to increase the chances of that hot-headed idiot being armed because some backwater county clerk gave him a permit to carry a concealed weapon?)

Yes, people do kill people, but they would have a lot harder time of it without guns!

Where Have All the Good Films Gone? Gone to Scottsdale Every One!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

A couple of weekends ago I was driving through Goodyear or Avondale one evening when a young man (high school young) passed me in a small red car. Printed across his back window in six-inch tall Old English Script was this bit of personal vitriol: "Fuck Scottsdale." It wasn't overly eloquent, but Shakespeare probably wasn't either when he was this lad's age. I assumed the boy had probably lost his lady love to some yuppie spawn in the East Valley who was born with a silver spoon up his nose.

The longer I live in the Valley of Hell, the more I come to realize how things here really work. The proletariat lives in central Phoenix and in the West Valley, while those who are not so frantic to make a living (including university students), gather in the coffee bars, art galleries, and outdoor cafes that border their comfortable neighborhoods in the East Valley. Later this month they will also have the Valley's first Light Rail which should help to lessen the horrendous bicycle traffic and save on valuable Birkenstock leather! (The West Valley, where the workers live - and necessarily drive - has been told that they can expect their own Light Rail in twenty years.)

But, I digress. My purpose today is to talk about movies. Recently there have been a spate of advertisements on television for what appear to be some really great films. The problem is that when I pull up the movie guide for a twenty-five mile radius of where I live, all of the films that are available in the local theatres are crap. The really good shows are beyond the twenty-five mile limit - in Scottsdale! If I want to drive twenty-nine miles (forty minutes) to Scottsdale this afternoon, I can see: Doubt, Slumdog Millionaire, Milk, I've Loved You So Long, or The Boy in the Striped Pajama's - none of which are playing any closer. The film distributors seem to believe that the intellect of the East Valley hasn't seeped beyond Central Avenue. People in the West Valley should be content with movies that they are capable of understanding: Christmas comedies, cartoons, and violent action flicks.

The more that I think about it, the more I agree with the philosophy of the kid in the little red car!

Si Se Puede

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It has been less than two weeks since the world saw a hundred thousand people in Chicago’s Grant Park cheering the next First Family with chants of “Yes We Can!” and “Yes We Did!” It was an electrifying night, made wondrous by the victory, the beautiful weather, the celebrities mixed in with the regular folks, and the crowd’s incessant chanting. Barack Obama had co-opted the phrase “Yes We Can!” from the old United Farm Workers’ organizing slogan, “Si Se Puede,” early in the campaign and made it into his rallying cry.

This morning while listening to National Public Radio (NPR) I learned the rest of the story on how the phrase originated. It occurred in 1972 while Cesar Chavez was holding a hunger strike in Phoenix in an effort to influence the repeal of some Arizona anti-farm workers legislation. Delores Huerta, the co-founder of the United Farm Workers, arrived in Phoenix to assist with the operation and wound up coining the powerful phrase while speaking to a group of supporters in Phoenix. Earlier this year Candidate Obama asked Ms. Huerta for permission to freely use the slogan that she created, and the perennial activist happily consented.

This story caught my attention for a couple of reasons. First, I live in the Phoenix metropolitan area and am beginning to feel some ownership in this hellhole. Second, I like the phrase. It is short, easy to say, and sizzles with raw energy. And third, I know and like Delores Huerta. She was one of our fellow travelers on the Feminist Cruise across the Caribbean in early 2007. During that cruise I listened to her enlighten and inspire several workshops that focused on such diverse topics as women in the workplace, and women in prison. I had a brief discussion with her regarding an elderly female friend of mine who is rotting in her wheelchair in a California prison, and Ms. Huerta showed an honest concern for the lady and her miserable situation. Having once served on the state parole board, she was able to give me some honest insight into how the California penal system works – poorly, unfairly, and with the odds stacked against those without means or influence.

But back to the topic of inspiration…

“Yes We Can!” is much more than a catchy phrase. It is an attitude, an entire belief system encapsulated into three little words. It is truly power to the people. “Yes We Can!” or the original “Si Se Puede!” is small and mighty – very much like Delores Huerta!

Arizona Sizzle Starts to Fizzle

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The heat, the unbearable essence that is Arizona, has finally started to waver in its intensity. Oh, daily highs are still in the nineties, but it has only been a few weeks ago that 110 degrees was the norm. Now, especially at night, the air is carefully edging toward what I would call "delightful."

Last night I had to drive across Phoenix. My windows were down, the radio was playing some very good jazz, and life was a breeze. I had business at the beautiful Arizona Grand Hotel, a place that caters to high-end business travelers and the moneyed scions of Arizona. I marched into the lobby wearing my Obama tee-shirt with the self-assurance of one who couldn't be intimidated by blue-haired crustaceans with money. But there were no raised eyebrows. Everyone was just chilling and enjoying the fine Arizona night.

Today I barbecued. Cooking for one is usually a waste, but when I barbecue my rule is to overdo it and then make my meals around the bounty for the rest of the week. Again, the weather was beautiful. I set out in our covered outdoor patio with built-in grills, cooked for most of the afternoon, and read from one of my many good books. The weather, once again, was wonderful!

If everyday in Arizona could be like today, I would unpack and plan on staying awhile!

Oh, McBush! Wherefore Art Thou?

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Arizona has been surprisingly devoid of McBush campaign paraphernalia, especially considering that it is the old fart's home state. Indeed, until a week ago the only bumper stickers that I had seen out and about in this wretched desert were those supporting Obama. Now I can at least report that I have seen three McBush bumper stickers in the Valley of Hell, and all, of course, were on large expensive vehicles.

Last night I went to downtown Phoenix to enjoy First Friday - a street fair held on the first Friday of every month - with my friends, Bobby and Odessa Benson their housemate Jeremy. We handed out Obama bumper stickers and buttons to the hundreds of people who were wandering the streets and enjoying the fair. There were many Obama supporters there, some holding signs for passing drivers to see, some handing out cards for voters to request ballots by mail, and many just talking to people about the candidate.

The most significant thing about last night, though, wasn't about what all of the Obama people were doing, it was the total lack of any McBush workers or activities at the event. There were no bumper stickers, signs, or political activity in support of Arizona's first Presidental candidate in a generation. Zip, nada, nothing! There was no McBush buzz in the middle of America's fourth largest metropolitan area - the city that he calls home! (Well, one of his homes, anyway!) I was almost embarrassed for him - but not quite!

I read this week that McBush has pulled the plug on his operation in Michigan. Has he thrown in the towel in Arizona, too?

Change is coming, and I think it may just be in the form of a landslide!

Change is Coming

by Pa Rock

I have a couple of friends who were (are) Ron Paul supporters. I like libertarians because they have strong convictions and aren't afraid to speak their minds. In fact, I think that I would enjoy being an ornery libertarian if it wasn't for a few problematic issues: guns (they cause crime and not the other way around), taxes (they are a necessary evil, and every American should pay based on ability - including rich Americans and corporations), and immigration (no borders, no where - from North Pole, Alaska to the southern tip of Tierra del Fuego). Other than that, I would probably make a damn good libertarian!

One of these friends that I just mentioned recently asked me what kind of change was on the horizon if Obama gets elected. In my reply I prattled on about having national goals and policies based on intelligence and the public need, rather than being rooted in greed and vindictiveness like we've seen for the past eight years. I believe that a bright future awaits us if we have the courage to go forth and meet it.

In fairness, John McCain would bring change also, most of it positive - at least positive compared to the abysmal swamp that we've been mired in for the past eight years. But McCain has shed his luster. He is no longer the maverick that was putting his spurs to the Bush family eight years ago. He no longer rails on the crackpot Christian fundamentalists as being agents of intolerance, and he supports Big Oil and never-ending war. Now, in an attempt to form a winning constituency, he has thrown his tent open to all of the crap that coalesced eight years ago to put Dear Leader in the White House.

One can only hope that if McCain wins the presidency (and I think a snowball would stand a better chance of rolling across Phoenix in August) that a bit of the maverick survives somewhere deep in his gut. We keep hearing about what a mean little bastard he really is. Wouldn't it be fun if that personality came busting out the first time the boys at Fox News (excuse the oxymoron) tried to tell him how to run the war, or when Lou Dobbs started lecturing him how to construct the border fence? That McCain also needs to be the one who smites down the Christian fascists when they show up to select his cabinet members and federal judges.

If John McCain gets to the White House (Allah forbid!), my prediction is that we all will experience change, even those who thought that they were voting for Bush's third term.

It shouldn't be a question about change, because change will happen regardless of who wins. The question must be about direction and destination. Where do we want to go and how will we get there? We need positive change to tap into our great national potential, and only Barack Obama appears to be willing to go there.

El Mercado

by Pa Rock

I spent this evening shopping and dining with five attractive ladies who had a fondness for strawberry daiquiris and trying to embarrass me! We began our evening at El Mercado, San Antonio's famous old ethnic market, took a side trip through a nice Mexican restaurant, and then I followed the three most committed shoppers of the group to the Riverfront Mall.

My life in Phoenix tends to be fairly monastic, so it was nice getting out and having some fun. It was also a good networking experience because everyone in our group works at different Air Force bases, so we were able to swap stories and anecdotes about our work sites. I always come away from these trainings having learned as much from my classmates as I did from the instructors, and this trip will be no exception.

Crazy Chicken Cravings

by Pa Rock

One of the nice things about getting older is that many of those cravings that drove my life when I was younger are now just pleasant memories - and as I get older, even the memories of cravings begin to fade away.

But, every now and then some craving reaches out from nowhere and just overwhelms me. (Usually it's food!) I don't know where today's craving originated, but as I was getting ready to leave work and head home, the urge to splurge on some El Pollo Loco ("The Crazy Chicken" for those of you too lame to learn basic Espanol) reached out and hit me right in the gut! To get Crazy Chicken I had to drive half-way across Phoenix, literally, but that gave me plenty of time to obsess on the treat that my eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, taste buds, and digestive tract would soon enjoy.

El Pollo Loco is damned good chicken - the best in the Phoenix area. It is a chain that, unfortunately for me, tends to be located in the busy downtown areas of the city, rather than out in the desert where I live. As I drove to the location at 51st and McDowell (I live at 115th and McDowell), I had plenty of time to work my taste buds into a frenzy. By the time I got there I was picturing drumsticks the size of turkey legs and corn-on-the-cob to-die-for!

My order was $20! Yes, that's a lot for takeout for one, but it will last me through at least three evening meals. For the twenty dollar bill I got eight pieces of chicken (legs and thighs - and yes the drumsticks were smaller than the imaginary ones that I was savoring!), a pint of pinto beans (seasoned at about two alarms - out of a possible five), four small pieces of corn-on-cob (wonderful beyond words!), and a couple of large flour tortillas (it's a cultural thing - and I could have had corn tortillas), a large, unsweetened raspberry tea, and several containers of hot sauce. I pitch the sauce because El Pollo Loco is plenty zesty as is.

So that was my craving, and it is now completely sated. And the next time someone tries to tell you that seniors don't get cravings, you can tell them for me that Pa Rock still does!

Cox Sucks!

by Pa Rock

If you live in or around Phoenix, AZ, chances are you have dealt with Cox Communications. The behemoth controls most of the telephone service, high-speed Internet, and cable TV in the Valley of the Sun. They have a neat little stranglehold on communications.

When I came here I got all of my services from Cox. It was much easier than running all over the Valley trying to acquire a modern communications system in a piecemeal manner. The service was mediocre from the start, and that should have been adequate warning. Instead of sending somebody to my apartment to get things started, I had to drive several miles to pick up a cable box. The phone was switched on from somewhere else in my apartment complex, and I'm not sure how the Internet got connected. I would still be trying to get it all sorted out and connected myself if not for the help of my daughter's boyfriend who was tech-savvy enough to get the entire system working.

A friend told me that Cox has two pricing systems: one for those (usually like me) who never complain, and lower rates for those who do complain. She said to talk about deleting a service, and they would start dealing to keep me. A few months ago I decided to put her advice to the test. I called Cox and told them that I was going to cut back on some of my cable options because my bill was too high. They immediately ran through my bill and said that I could be receiving a discount because I was receiving all of my services through them. And, they could even take that discount back two months. Why, I asked innocently, could they not take it back to the time my services were installed if I had been eligible for it all along. Policy, tut tut, you know, but we can apply the discount now and save you some money.

Two weeks ago I got a notice that the cable rates were going up - again! I called and told them to cancel my movie package as well as my phone and Internet packages. The sputtering on their end was truly heart-wrenching. Why, oh why, Mr. Macy, would you want to do that? Because your rates are too high, Evildoer. Well, let's not be hasty. We could give you a different Internet package that would meet your needs and save you money. Yeah, I bet you could - why didn't you tell me that last October when I got the services?

So now I am operating off of my cell phone (not Cox), broadband Internet (not Cox), and have a very limited Cox cable package. Imagine my disgust today when I got home from the movies and found that my cable wasn't working! I called Cox and talked to a nice young man named Noel. He led me through a process and then put me on hold "for just five to seven minutes" while my cable box would power back up.

Twenty minutes later I hung up on the constant stream of Cox commercials. I called back and got a recording telling me that the office was closed and to call back tomorrow. Somehow I kept from throwing my cell phone and television out the back door and onto the golf course - and I called Cox a third time.

A lady answered who was having difficulty speaking English and dealing with me. She went through all of the routine that Noel had done, but seemed to know better than to put me on hold. After twenty minutes with her, I finally told her that I had burned up nearly an hour of cell phone minutes and we weren't getting anywhere. She said that I should call the office tomorrow morning if my signal still wasn't working, and they would send out a service representative. No, I told her, that
would not do. If she valued my business she would schedule one now. Okay, of course. I can have a service representative at you place on Tuesday between 10 a.m. and noon. No, Ma'am you don't understand. I work for a living. The representative needs to come after 5 p.m. Okay, Wednesday evening then between 5 and 7 p.m. That's the best I can do.

And you know what? Wednesday evening works great for me, because by that time I can have Dish Network set up and hand the cable box back to the "service representative." That's the best I can do!

Lots of things in life suck, but nothing sucks like Cox!

Visitors

Two of my friends, James and Patti Carroll of Noel, MO, were in Phoenix Thursday evening. They arrived in the late afternoon, rented a car at Sky Harbor Airport, and then drove across Phoenix on Interstate 10 in rush hour traffic and 110 degree heat. I am sure that they had had quite enough of The Valley of the Sun by the time they made it to my place in Goodyear. Later that evening after a nice meal and a tour of Luke Air Force Base, we stopped at a local CVS so Patti could by a few necessaries for their trip to Sedona the following day. James and I sat in the car and visited while Patti went to do her shopping. When she returned to the car, she had a bemused look on her face. Patti said that she had been exchanging small talk with the clerk in the store and had mentioned that she was here on vacation. The clerk had replied, somewhat astonished, "You're vacationing here!

Amen, sister!

Muchas Gracias, Amigos!

There are five Mexican men working in the parking lot of my apartment complex today, and I am reasonably certain that there is not one Green Card among them. They are hauling wheelbarrow loads of gravel to spread around the landscaping, they are mowing, they are weed-eating, and they are doing what they have to do to take care of their families while the Anglos that live here run from one air conditioner to another or sit by the pool drinking cold beer out of their ice chests.

These Mexican men, and women, and children - legal and illegal - may have not built Phoenix and its environs, but they maintain it, and it is their sweat-soaked dollars and pesos that keep the local economy churning. And what do they get for their efforts? Anonymous and lonely death in the Sonoran Desert, harassment from opportunistic politicians and law enforcement officials (who use these politically powerless individuals to maintain their own lawns, pools, and homes), the scorn of poor whites who see them as an economic threat rather than as fellow economic victims, and crap wages.

But where would we be without them?

Muchas gracias, amigos! Thank you for being here!

NO HATRED - NO FENCES - NO BORDERS!

But It's a Dry Heat!

by Pa Rock
Itinerant Weatherman

Yesterday, the 19th of May in the year 2008, the temperature in Goodyear, Arizona, reached 113 degrees! In Phoenix proper the high was a more modest 110 degrees. The record high temperature in Phoenix for the 19th of May had been 105 degrees - and that mark was set last year! Today, in the early afternoon, it was 105 degrees here, and getting hotter! Dear Leader may say there is no such thing as global warming, but he has Crawford crap oozing out of his jug ears. Global warming is the real deal!

Yes, I knew when I moved to the desert that it would be hot. I expected to spend a couple of months each year suffering under the unrelenting sun. Those months that I expected to suffer were July and August. Nobody told me that I would be able to fry steak and eggs on the sidewalk in the middle of spring!

When God, in Her infinite wisdom, made the Valley of the Sun, I think She saw it strictly as being a playground for scorpions and Gila monsters. Surely She could have had no inkling that Man would be so masochistic (or dumb) as to try and live in the foyer of Hell.

I'd bitch some more, but it's too damned hot!

2007 Personal Highlights

The year 2007 will pass into the history books later tonight, an event that causes me to reminisce about the year that was. Overall, it was a good twelve months.

In January I joined the Hopkinsville, KY, YMCA, and was faithful to a fitness program there (primarily walking, stationary bicycle, and weights) until I moved West in late September.

I sailed the Caribbean in February with the National Association of Social Workers and MS Magazine. On that voyage I met several prominent feminists including Tyne Daly and Eleanor Smeal, attended a variety of workshops that were focused on feminist issues, and got a good look at Belize, Guatemala, and southern Mexico.

I celebrated my 59th birthday in March and moved to within one year of receiving my first retirement check.

My newest grandson, Sebastian Phoenix Files was born on July 5th. Later that month my son Nick and my other grandson, Boone, joined me in a train trip out West to meet little Sebastian. One highlight of that trip (other than Sebastian!) was a visit to the Grand Canyon.

In September I accepted a job at Luke Air Force Base in Phoenix. It was significant for two reasons: it located me in the same city as Molly, Scott, and Sebastian, and it brought me officially into the federal employment system. Now I am getting to see my grandson on a regular basis, and I am completing requirements for another retirement.

My nephew, Justin Smith, was married in Fayetteville, AR, in September. I flew to Missouri from Kentucky to take my Dad to the wedding. It was really great getting to see all of my sister’s kids at that happy event.

Nick helped move me to Phoenix at the end of September. I doubt that I could have gotten here without him.

I began work at Luke on October 1st. My new co-workers proved to be just as great as those at my last two bases, as well as the good people that I worked with at the Children’s Division in Missouri.

I began blogging in November and am really enjoying the challenge of coming up with interesting things to write about. This project also gives me a place to organize things that I have written over the years, and to present snippets of my personal history. It is a very introspective enterprise.

I made a trip home for the holidays in December and was able to spend a brief amount of time with all of my children and grandchildren. I also learned while there that Tim, my youngest, will be getting married to his girlfriend, Erin, in the near future. That was very good news indeed!

I ended this year by joining a local health club, Lifetime Fitness. After a good initial workout yesterday, I am almost too sore to move today. Old age is such a blessing!

My best to you in 2008!

Pa Rock