I worked another six-day week, and I’m kind of whipped. Interestingly enough, I spent my day yesterday in a public housing project, only to awake today and find the following…
From the Times Leader:
HARRISBURG — State lawmakers are considering a bill that would bar welfare recipients from using taxpayer-backed benefit cards to buy alcohol.
The measure, which also bans use of child support payments for alcohol purchases, unanimously passed the state House last week. It now heads to the state Senate, where a spokesman for Majority Leader Dominic Pileggi, R-Delaware, says he believes it has general support.
State Rep. Dave Reed, R-Indiana, said he submitted the measure after learning on a tour of a county assistance office a few years ago that such purchases were not illegal.
“I had no idea at the time that such a loophole existed,” he said. “I don’t think most people did.”
Administration officials, however, question whether the bill is aimed at a problem that doesn’t exist, saying there is no evidence that recipients abuse their benefits. Others say it perpetuates a stereotype that people who receive government assistance are irresponsible.
First of all, whoever questioned the need for the bill needs to be convicted on charges of aggravated stupidity and buried alive. Jeez!
And remember, I spent my teen years on welfare while living in a public housing project. Been there, done that. And I’ve seen the scams some of these people run, like selling food coupons for fifty cents on the dollar.
And since most poor folks have no real expectations of their dreams actually coming true one day, very many of them vacation daily by way of a bottle of something or other. That’s just the way it is. Rather than despair all of the time, get good and drunk.
Funny thing about working in public housing projects, something I do quite often because of the way the majority of them are built making conditions for termite activity very, very conducive. The little kids are always up bright and early, and wandering around with little or no supervision. And the parents, well, they tend to be hidden away until noon or somewhere immediately afterwards.
And since the kids are curious about what I’m up to, they tend to congregate where I’m working, follow me around and ask lots of questions. And all of this I might add, while I’m applying a couple hundred gallons of termiticide. In other words, I’ve gotten tired of shooing them away over the years.
So my solution was to show up at the job site much earlier than was originally agreed upon, and get the more dangerous aspects (not so much so if you’re heavily trained and experienced to all hell) of the application done before even they crawl out of their frameless secondhand beds.
Now, you could say it’s kind of rude to fire up a hammer drill, a 5 horsepower shop vacuum or gas-powered motors very, very early in the morning, but trust me, in public housing projects, nothing gets these people out of bed before noon excepting for gunplay.
Speaking of gunplay, I was lying barely alive in front of the video advertising box at 11 PM last night, when Wifey comes downstairs saying she just heard 7 gunshots.
Huh? Okay, I got up and increased the volume on the desktop police scanner. And within mere seconds, the first mention on the gadget was “23,” meaning the first police officer was already on scene. And within a couple of minutes, our tiny street looked as if it was hosting an FOP convention.
From WNEP.com:
8:06 AM EDT, May 10, 2009
Police are investigating a late-night shooting in Wilkes-Barre.
Investigators said a man was shot twice around 11 p.m. Saturday on John Street. The victim, who has not been identified, was taken to Geisinger Wyoming Valley Medical Center in Plains Township. Police expect him to survive.
"All of a sudden we heard, I thought of it as rapid fire, like four or five shots. Then there was a pause, then three more. It was like 'pa bob ba bop, then pop ba ba,'" described neighbor Mary Edwards.
Police are checking to see what led up to the shooting.
And that’s the only mention of it in the media as of this morning. I guess 11 PM is too late for the newspapers these days (being downsized and all) which didn’t used to be the case. They both used to have a “night editor,” who would respond if the scanner had something especially violent or unique to report. Whatever.
As soon as I hit the front porch with the portable scanner, just about every resident of this street was milling about out there somewhere. Wes said he was hanging out in his back yard, just a few feet from the site of the shooting, heard some serious arguing going on, and then the gunfire. Bill had called 911 because one of the 3 cars that had fled the scene in a big hurry had returned and parked in the lady’s yard up on the corner. Yes, in her yard.
And within another minute or two, three police cars had that car boxed in, the officers had two girls out of the car and a thorough, thorough search of the vehicle was underway. And I mean thorough. It took a while before the police stopped with the questioning and took the two of them into custody.
Meanwhile, Medic 5 took on out of here with the shooting victim aboard. According to the scanner chatter, the shooting happened at 15 John Street, and the platoon of onrushing officers were being directed to the rear of 465 Penn Ave by the officers already on the scene. Just for the sake of accuracy, we here on Thompson Street refer to John Street as Scum Street. Take it for what it’s worth.
If you’re new to Scanner Land, here’s your first hint that something really violent just occurred. The 911 call goes out, the officers arrive and then almost instantly request that a detective respond to the scene. And then a second big hint is when somebody on scene gets to asking about the whereabouts of the camera. You’re welcome. Anyway, it didn’t take too long last night for those requests to come over the air.
And, of course, just as soon as things seemed to be under control and all kinds of creepy-looking people were sauntering up the street to have a look, my neighbors got into the obligatory conversation, the blind speculation about “What is wrong with people?”
What’s wrong with people? The long and short of it is, they just don’t give a flying fu>k anymore. They don’t care about the sanctity of life, other than their own. To them, civility and courtesy are the ridiculous constructs of some now nearly extinct civilization once ruled by those old people. And they act as if self-restraint is best practiced by others.
As for the young among us, they’ve been taught since birth that anything goes. They’ve been pumped full of unearned self-esteem, which leads to a constant demand for respect from all that they might meet. They live in a society that fights for the “right” to kill the unborn, a society that is also clamoring for a greatly enhanced “right” to kill the older folks at the tail end of their lives.
The Golden Rule? Right! Stick a fork in that piece of road kill, it’s done.
Our pop culture is a literal cesspool, yet parents shrug their shoulders and filter none of it out. Kids listen to detestable songs like “Cop Killer,” they openly mock the villainized clergy, they idolize talent-starved dregs and they reject practically any and all authority.
They are remanded to the custody of electronic babysitters while still toddlers, killing, shooting and stabbing everything that moves, but protected from the abhorrent violence that is kickball. And worse yet, like their keep-up-with-the-Jones’ absentee parents, they pray at the alter of commercialism.
Future democrats all, promoting, embracing and ensuring the coming oblivion, whether they realize it or not!
Other than that, I don’t see a problem.
Some have suggested that by way of my incessant scribbling, that I glorify violence. Nah, incorrect. I commend being able to defend oneself, even if it means having to arm oneself. Because the fact of the matter is, you just never know when one of these misfiring byproducts of a progressive mindset and the subsequent lifestyle is going to reach out and touch you.
Teach your children well, people. And teach them not to touch me, mine or any of my stuff.
Or else.
[End rant]
Later
***10-80: Confidential Code Signal for "A person with a gun."
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