Today's MOSTLY TRUE STORY: Why Did He Run?

F LoBuono

We were in the Record Room at the network. It's a high-tech control room that receives video feeds from all over the world. These raw feeds are recorded in their entirety and then edited for use on the network's various news venues, including the Internet. And, when I say RAW, I mean RAW - literally and figuratively. These long feeds must be edited for time AND content. I mean we see it ALL first. And, that can often mean the blood and the guts. I'll leave it at that.

My co-worker and I were asked to record 3 videos that were just coming in from Minnesota. They were 3 different angles of bodycam footage of a recent police involved shooting. We began the recording procedure and watched the video for technical quality and content. The first video began in a police car from the vantage point of the officer driving the vehicle. He is in contact with his dispatcher who relays a message of a man, possibly intoxicated, discharging a firearm in a residential area.

He drives at high speed for a minute or 2 before he radios that he sees the possible subject and describes him as a young black man wearing brown shorts and a tank top. He jerks the car into park and opens the car door aggressively to approach the subject. He begins to say "SIR" when the man rises and he notices something on the man's hip and yells, "GUN, GUN, HE'S GOTTA' GUN!" For a reason not entire clear to us, the man, who was sitting on a curb, bolts and runs as fast as he can down the street. The police officer is now in hot pursuit, screaming, "STOP! STOP! PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP"! The man replies, still running at top speed, replies, "LEAVE ME ALONE. I DIDN'T DO NUTHIN'! I AIN'T GOT NO GUN"! The cop, hot on his heels, his own weapon now exposed and ready, responds, "YES, YOU DO MUTHA' FUCKER. DROP THE WEAPON. STOP RUNNING. PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU"!*

Now, as we're watching, our jaws are hitting the floor. This is the real deal - it is NO made for TV drama. This is playing out in breath-taking real time! So, our adrenal is up. I can only imagine how it was for the participants. My partner, a guitar playing black man and I, between "holy shits" are screaming too - "JUST FUCKING STOP!" And, even though the footage is in real time, i.e. they're running HARD, we can clearly see what appears to be a pistol in the suspect's hand. At one point, he even seems to point it back towards the officer. The drama continues: "STOP! PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU!" "I AIN'T GOT NO GUN". "YES, YOU DO. STOP. PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU!"

The suspects turns left on to another street when we see at least one other policeman in pursuit. The cop with the bodycam makes one final appeal when, without further warning, he squeezes off about 5 or six rounds. POP. POP. POP. POP. The suddenness and violence of it was astounding. The bullets left without so much as a bang as a whoosh. The policeman's two hands on his weapon in classic combat pose, recoiled with every discharge.

Suddenly, obviously hit in the back, the suspect spins slightly as the bullets rip into him, and then collapses on his face in a pool of blood. As he falls, he lets go of what he had in his hand and it appears to be a weapon. The officer who discharged the fatal shots calls his dispatch, "SHOTS FIRED. ONE DOWN." Other policemen approach the victim. One yells, "HE'S STILL MOVING." Another, weapon trained on the body, approaches the body and kicks away the gun that was apparently in his hand. The video ends shortly after. The other 2 videos were of different angles and support the 1st. And, of course, because it is topical, it should be noted that the police officers where white and victim, black.

It literally took our breath away and we needed a few minutes to recover. Then we discussed what we had just seen. Both of us were shocked by the shear violence of it. It was so apparent that decisions were being made, life and death ones, with split-second frequency. It was so hard to see how anything good could be possibly derived from such a confrontation. Was there no way to avoid this tragedy?

On one hand, it was difficult to find fault with the police. We know what we saw. And, that young man HAD a gun. And, at points, despite what he may have SAID, we saw what he could have wanted to DO. And, that was to shoot that cop. We cannot know for sure? And, neither could that cop! We were puzzled. Why didn't he just STOP and comply? With a dark sense of humor, we both agreed that getting rough-up a bit sure beats the shit out of getting shot dead! And, WHY was he armed in the first place? Guns only lead to violence - and, it did again here. It was all so strange. More would need to be discovered.

On the other, it all escalated so quickly that the outcome seemed sealed from the very beginning. Was there no other way to defuse the situation? And, the young man was shot when he seemed most vulnerable. Could he not have been subdued without the use of such deadly force?

Now, both my co-worker and I have been, and continue to be, outspoken critics of the high level of violence being perpetrated by the police, particularly against black men. Statistics consistently show a disparity in the use of violence by the police against minorities than that against whites. However, still, painting with such a broad brush that it covers the truth can never be right thinking.  And, we saw what we saw. Yes, there are still many questions remaining to be asked, but none more compelling than, why didn't he just STOP?

The two unidentified Minneapolis police officers will not be charged in the death of Thurman Blevins. Some of the local African-American community there are outraged, saying that Mr. Belvins posed no real threat. This MAY have been the case but they are not seeing things, literally, from the viewpoint of the police officers. The police saw a man with a gun who refused reasonable commands to stop and explain himself. Was there a reason for this? Now, we will never really know.

But, what I do know is what I would like to leave with: everyone, put the guns down. White or black. Violence, as represented by our fetish with weaponry, can only bring more death and pain.

* Paraphrasing. I do not have a transcript.

Today's MOZEN: What's The Point?

F LoBuono

It's no secret: I have a healthy ego. And, by that, I don't mean it simply in a euphemistic way. My psyche is not just grandiose, it is also balanced. I say that because I know what I'm good at (a lot) and what I'm not so good at (plenty). I'm also aware of my station in life. And, it ain't grand. I've done OK for myself but, I am not wealthy or hold a position of power and real authority. I own some land and a house that I'd actually like to get rid of. I am not anonymous but certainly not famous. I've won few, if any, awards in my field. My sphere of influence is limited, if it is felt at all.

What I do bring to the party is a solid intellect, curiosity, compassion, and, above all, integrity. I use those principals to guide me in everything that I do, including my writing. I also have a kinetic energy that fuels a fierce desire to always seek more, accomplish more. I think of Ahab in Melville's Moby Dick when he said, I attempt everything. I accomplish what I can.

So, what right do I have to criticize a wealthy, powerful, famous man like Donald J. Trump? After all, isn't he the most powerful man on the planet?

Well, as I see it, not only do I have the right, I have an obligation to do so. In fact, it's more than an obligation - it's a duty!!

So, why criticize a man who has established an empire, regardless of how he may or may not have inherited his wealth? The fact remains that he has his name on major properties and buildings throughout the Country and world. He is attended by hundreds who do his bidding. I can't even imagine when he drove himself anywhere. I drive a car with over 263,000 miles on it! Mr. Trump is also virtually worshipped by millions. I'm pretty sure my mother still loves me. I think a few others may think that I'm OK, too. But, that's about it.

Still, there is a key distinction between me and Mr. Trump. And, that is integrity, something I believe I possess in ample amounts whilst he sorely lacks for any. The President has shown time and time again his dirth of compassion, honesty, and principals. Fact-finding sites have tallied his misstatements (if not outright fabrications) to number in the thousands and add to that tally on a daily basis. However, perhaps worse than the incessant lying is the inveterate bullying. It began during the campaign with Mr. Trump's abuse of a disabled NY Times reporter and continues almost unabated to this day. His former personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, is now the subject of his latest round of bellicose behavior. And, there is no end in sight.

Most of Mr. Trump's supporters seem to be willing to accept this boorish behavior in exchange for policies they believe will benefit themselves and the Country at large. I simply cannot see things that way, nor will I accept them. I don't have significantly more money in my pocket (as promised). I don't feel any safer (Russia continues to hack our institutions). I don't fear a crisis of immigration (I love my Latin friends). And, I don't see anything GREAT in man whose language skills may be significantly less than the 12 year-olds he often acts like.

So, please, someone tell me, WHAT'S THE POINT?

His minions will counter that simply because he IS the President, he deserves respect. Again, I disagree. Respect does not simply come with a title - it must be earned. And, this man has far from earned mine. And, remember, rich is a relative word. Many with millions of dollars but lacking in integrity have far less to offer than a so-called poor man who keeps his scruples.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Photos in a Canvas Bag

F LoBuono

It was quite a shock. I mean, I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! I had seen photos of naked women before in magazines like Playboy, but these were nothing like those! It was the first time I would see a woman completely naked, exposing everything - including her genitalia.

I must have been about 11 or 12 when one of my friends found an old canvas mail bag in a clearing in the small patch of forest near my home. Overtaken by curiosity, of course we undid the catch holding it closed and dumped the contents out onto the forest floor.  The bag appeared to be full of newspaper clippings of some sort. On closer inspection, we discovered that they were not newspaper clippings, but rather those of some sort of magazine. It seems someone took the considerable time to cut out very explicit photos of naked women from some less than reputable magazine.

Once we figured exactly what the photos were, we poured over them like a long-lost treasure map. There must have been hundreds of them, all black and white, and stacked together like they do with large groups of cash. As I mentioned, we had all seen Playboy where beautiful women posed in classic positions exposing their breasts, but were never fully nude. These photos made those look like pictures from a children's book! First, the women may have been attractive, but certainly not in the way of the Playboy women. In fact, these women looked harder, tougher - more like street women than models. Next, they left little to the imagination. It seemed that they actually posed for MAXIMUM EXPOSURE rather than to titillate as the women of Playboy did. And, lastly, there was no comparison in the quality of the photographs or the photographers who created them.

Now, at the time (the late 1960's) I was attending a Catholic grammar school where the idea of teaching sex education was akin to teaching child molestation! It simply wasn't done. It was either up to our parents to teach us or learn it on the streets if we were ever to be comfortable with - S.E.X. I learned most of it on the streets through events like this one.

I remember my initial reaction was one of shock and amazement. I'm sure that my jaw hit the forest floor. And, to be totally honest, I was a little grossed out, too. You see, to me, a woman's vulva looked like a wound. It was shocking to me that women actually had a large hole in their bodies. I thought to myself, OMG, how to they keep water out when they are bathing and swimming? How do they keep their insides, well, inside? Baffling! The idea of sex actually never entered my mind.

Now, please keep in mind, I was only about 11 or so and had absolutely no experience, nor was I educated in the subject. So, my initial impressions were without any bias what-so-ever. In fact, you couldn't be more innocent. I was so damned curious. And, the whole idea fascinated me. I mean, they were so DIFFERENT they might as well have been aliens!

My friends and I decided that it was too risky to take any of those photos home so we packed them back up in that canvas sack and hid them again beneath some bushes. We made plans to return periodically for further study. Of course, over time, a canvas bag in the woods is no way to keep paper dry for very long. And, the fact that we came by regularly to continue our research, all added to their eventual decay. By the end of the summer, the dampness and our continued use had turned our cache into a pile of smelly, rotten filth (some might say it was that from the very beginning).

In time, of course, I learned to appreciate the beauty of the female form - in ALL it's glory. I came to appreciate that, because of their anatomy, women ARE a portal and, therefore, the progenitors of life itself. What appeared to me as a wound all those years ago, shocking and frightening, became the lock to my key of life. Who would have thunk it all those years ago . . .

Today's MOZEN: To Those Who Will Not See

F LoBuono

You know who you are - I present this without further comment:

There Are None So Blind As Those Who Will Not See:

• According to the ‘Random House Dictionary of Popular Proverbs and Sayings’ this proverb has been traced back to 1546 (John Heywood), and resembles the Biblical verse Jeremiah 5:21 (‘Hear now this, O foolish people, and without understanding; which have eyes, and see not; which have ears, and hear not’). In 1738 it was used by Jonathan Swift in his ‘Polite Conversation’ and is first attested in the United States in the 1713 ‘Works of Thomas Chalkley’. The full saying is: ‘There are none so blind as those who will not see. The most deluded people are those who choose to ignore what they already know’. 

---

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Nothing Ventured

F LoBuono

It must have been 1978. I was in graduate school and looking to make some extra money to help in getting by. I would do just about anything to earn an extra buck, including parking cars at a high-end Chinese restaurant in Englewood Cliffs, NJ. It was there that I met a lot of interesting people, including celebrities like Alan Alda (a crappy tipper) and George Benson (a great tipper).

One of the regulars who came to the place seemed to arrive in a different car with every visit. I learned that his name was Jerry McSpirit and the reason he almost always came with a new vehicle was that he was an antique and classic car dealer. He had one of the largest business of that type on the East coast and often supplied vehicles for the movie industry. In fact, he provided most of the vintage cars used in The Godfather and many other classic films.

He was always pleasant and approachable so we became friends. One day, at closing time, I was returning his car key to him while he sat at the bar when he asked me if I would be interested in driving for him one day. He explained that, often, he needed safe drivers to transport some of his vehicles onto the movie sets they were contracted for. To save money, instead of using expensive Car-transporting type trucks, he used reliable neighborhood kids to drive them on location. Seeing the cool cars he always came in with, my response was an unequivocal, SURE!

My first, and only, gig for Jerry was on a movie called The Wanderers. It was set in the the Bronx in the late 1950's and early 60's with the true story based on the rivalry between 2 street gangs - The Wanderers and the Fordham Baldies. If I remember correctly, shooting began in the Bronx that Fall. I was to meet Jerry at his place in Alpine, NJ to pick up the car I was to drive to the set.

My first assignment couldn't have been sweeter - get a suped-up '57 Chevy and take it from Alpine to the Bronx. It was black and silver with a revamped V-8 engine and four-on-the- floor stick. I'll never forget the stares I received while piloting her over the George Washington Bridge and to the set on Fordham Road. Once I got there, I was instructed where to park the car and to wait with the rest of the production crew to move it, if and when, needed. Another time, I had to transport a '59 black Pontiac that I actually got to drive IN the film itself - look for a sleek, black car drive by a Marine recruiting stations in the film - that's me!

Karen Allen

One of the really cool perks was that you got to spend time on the set with the entire crew, including the actors. Well, one day, I was on the line for lunch when I noticed the person in front of me was the actress Karen Allen. It was her first film after her appearance in the legendary comedy Animal House. I simply couldn't believe my eyes. I remember being almost overwhelmed by the fact that I woman I had fantasized about (as many young men do over fetching young actresses) was indeed REAL and was standing right in front of me. She was SO my type in those days! I gathered myself and struck up a simple conversation. I learned that we were about the same age and that she had traveled a lot as kid. The conversation flowed fairly easily but I was far too shy and intimidated at that point to pursue anything more than casual conversation. As much as I wanted to ask her for a date, I simply could not muster the courage.

After that chance encounter, I really don't recall seeing Ms. Allen very much on set anymore. And, I felt like I had missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime: asking your fantasy girl out on a date. Well, being the Taurus that I am (stubborn and steadfast), I simply couldn't let it stand just like that. I had to take my shot. But, how, I wondered? She had virtually disappeared from the set. And, I was a NOBODY. Then, I hatched a plan. I knew where her trailer was. I would write her an inspired invitation to join me at my favorite Chinese restaurant (yes, the same one I met Jerry McSpirit in). I may have been a nobody but I also felt that I could only lose by NOT trying.

So, I sat down to write a note that was so honest, so heartfelt that she couldn't possibly spurn my invitation. I told Ms. Allen what a privilege it was to be in the presence of someone you simply dreamt about but never even fathomed possibly meeting. I loaded my love note with adjectives describing my unworthiness but, at the same time, desire to do good by her. I also explained to her that I was not a deranged fan (although I'm not sure WHY she should believe me) but was just acting on an impulse that if I didn't take the chance, I might always regret it. In hindsight, when I think about that note, I have to admit that I cringe a little - it was SO sappy. But, it was honest and it was the real me.

The next time I drove to the set I sought out her trailer. I was going to hand deliver my love note. When I reached the stairs to the trailer, I hesitated for a moment: was I kidding myself? Wouldn't this now famous woman laugh at some unknown set driver? Well, I steeled myself by thinking, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, the pain of rejection would only last a second. And, what if she actually said, yes? I cautiously mounted the stairs, knocked a few times on the metal door and held my breath waiting for it to open. After a few seconds the door did open. Standing in the entrance was a short, older woman who eyed me with suspicion. Her assistant, I assumed. May I help you?, she asked. I'm looking for Ms. Allen. Is she available?, I inquired. No, she is not, the woman responded. Handing her my note I said, would you be so kind as to give her this? Answering in the affirmative she took the note and then closed the door. It was now out of my hands - literally. All I could do was wait.

Well, I never did hear back from Ms. Allen. No real surprise there - after all, what could she have possibly gained? But, I wonder if she kept that note and looks back on it from time to time. It was so honest, so innocent I hope that, if she does have it, or even remembers it, it makes her smile.

The Wanderers went on the mild success in the theaters but acquired a kind of cult following. I never drove for Jerry again. But, I will ALWAYS at least have the memories . . .

1957 Chevy Bel Aire

Today's MOZEN: The Ugliest American

F LoBuono

It's no secret. In fact, I've written about it so much I can hardly stand to anymore! Therefore, it should be apparent that I am no fan of Donald J. Trump - never have been and never will be. In fact, I rather detest him. And, my reasons go far beyond the realm of politics. It is, in a sense, personal.

You see, Mr. Trump is simply not the type of  person I would gravitate towards on ANY level. In fact, should a person with his temperament send me a Facebook Friend Request I would reject it out of hand! He is a bilious, bellicose, boorish, bully. As I would not choose him as a friend, I most certainly would NOT choose him as a leader. And, I didn't.

And, he proves his unworthiness on an almost daily basis.

He insults our friends and allies with impunity while he lauds dictators and despots. He treats women as objects of his sexual fantasies and brags about it. He berates ANYONE who may have the temerity to disagree with him - on ANY level. And, how anyone accepted and even EXCUSED his behavior for mocking a disabled reporter is beyond me.

So, ONCE AGAIN, I'll make this as simple and as NON POLITICAL as possible:

Donald J. Trump is of poor moral fiber. He puts himself above all people and things. He doesn't speak well. He doesn't write properly. His lexicon is atrocious. His physical appearance is bulbous and fleshy. His hair is fake. His skin color is fake. His smile is fake. He is garish and gaudy. And, he blusters and bashes to hide his own, ample shortcomings.

And, I believe these moral deficiencies more than negate any positive political impact he may have achieved. As he continues to impose his overwhelming cult of personality, he is fundamentally changing the very tenets of what it means to actually BE American - and, not for the better. If he had his way, we would be once again find ourselves disrespected around the globe and saddled with the epithet we fought so hard to dispel: UGLY AMERICAN.

Well, my friends, the UGLIEST American is at the top of the heap!

I suppose that I continue to write these missives for my own sanity as much as for any other reason. But, I find the stakes too high to quit. We are in a fight for nothing less than the Heart and Soul of America. I know where mine lie and I'm pretty sure that most of you who read this blog would concur - Mr. Trump's vision of America is not ours! And, therefore, failure is not an option. Stay involved. March. Write. Vote. RESIST.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Hot Potato Knishes - Ice Cold Cokes, Here!

Words and photos F LoBuono

Every summer, when we were kids, my mother would pack up my older sister, my little brother, and me for our annual 2 week vacation at Coney Island. Since we lived in Jersey, the great majority of my friends went down the shau, while we headed for Brooklyn. You see, my mother, Stella, grew up just a mile or so from the Boardwalk there and her family (and, our cousins) still lived in the same place. And, despite our protestations, there was no escape with Stella's reasoning for going always logical and never changing: I'm not sure what you guys are complaining about - same ocean!

So, usually in mid-August, while my father stayed in Fort Lee to work and he couldn't drive us there (he ALWAYS picked us up), Stella loaded us on the subway for the nearly 2 hour journey, and off to The Promised Land we went.

Truthfully, it really wasn't bad after all. In fact, we had a blast. My cousins where there and so was the beach. My grandmother's place was an old classic Brooklyn townhouse located on Ave.W, right between Ocean Parkway and Coney Island Avenue. And, of course, in Italian tradition, my cousins' family lived only about a block away. Every morning for the 2 weeks we where there, we packed a cooler of wonderful, fresh food, soft drinks, grabbed a beach blanket, an umbrella, and some beach chairs to make our pilgrimage down Ocean Parkway to the beach entrance at Bay 7th St.

One of my strongest memories was hitting the cool sand under the boardwalk that awaited us at the end of our long and hot journey down Ocean Parkway. I remember taking off our sneakers right away so that we could feel the moist, fresh sand between our toes. We ran squealing from the relative darkness and cool air provided by the shade of the boardwalk and into the blazing sun and scorching sand that we now felt under our feet. We ran as fast as we could to the water to dunk our toes in the chilly, refreshing ocean!

After a quick dunk, we staked our claim to some prime beach real estate. This was essential in the summer as the beach quickly filled up with thousands of other families. Let's face it, no one would ever mistake Coney Island for some deserted atoll! Eventually, we all settled into our beach routines - body surfing, swimming, beach combing, and the occasional trip to the boardwalk.

At some point, we settled in to eat lunch, usually lovingly prepared by my grandmother. After lunch, if we were particularly well-behaved, a special treat for dessert was waiting for us: an authentic Coney Island Potato Knish! Now, these were no ordinary potato knishes! They were purchased from a figure that, to me, was every much a part of Coney Island as Nathan's Famous. I never knew his name but he was there EVERY DAY, walking the entire length of the beach, over and over again, bare-chested, a shock of grey hair blowing in the sea breeze while he called out in a melodic voice: Hey, get your hot potato knishes - ice cold Cokes - HERE! And, it was always with the same cadence, pausing slightly before he finished we a flourish - HERE!

When we heard his booming voice as he made his way up the beach, we ran to whomever was chaperoning us that day to beg for money - a knish was $.50 and a Coke $.25. My mom or one of my aunts would give us enough money so that all of us could have a knish and a coke. We surrounded him like a pack of wolves might their prey. While we jumped for joy around him, he placed his 2 heavy sacks on the sand to deliver his bounty: one bag for the knishes which were served in a cellophane wrapper and one filled with dry ice to keep those Cokes ice cold. Of course, he always had extra deli mustard to slather those knishes in!

After eating our fill and exhausting ourselves in AND out of the water, we packed up our belongs for the long walk back to Ave. W. And, as Stella always says, "tomorrow is another day". Little did we know how those tomorrows would change. And, they did - adulthood, responsibility and the like replaced the care free days of Hot Potato Knishes and Ice Cold Cokes. But, the memories can never truly be forgotten.

Today's MOZEN: Will You Stand?

F LoBuono

Until this moment, Senator, I think I have never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness. Fred Fisher is a young man who went to the Harvard Law School and came into my firm and is starting what looks to be a brilliant career with us. Little did I dream you could be so reckless and so cruel as to do an injury to that lad. It is true he is still with Hale and Dorr. It is true that he will continue to be with Hale and Dorr. It is, I regret to say, equally true that I fear he shall always bear a scar needlessly inflicted by you. If it were in my power to forgive you for your reckless cruelty I would do so. I like to think I am a gentle man, but your forgiveness will have to come from someone other than me.

You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?

Joseph Welch uttered these immortal words a little more than 64 years ago (June 9, 1954) to Senator Joseph McCarthy and his notorious lawyer, Roy Cohn, during McCarthy's infamous hearings into corruption and Communism in the US Army. McCarthy used his bellicose, bilious, bullying tactics to not only intimidate witnesses, but to ruin countless careers and lives. As the Senate's proponent of the House Committee on un-American Activities, McCarthy relentless and brutally attacked homosexuals, anarchists, and just about anyone suspected of being un-patriotic. McCarthysim, named after his brand of politics, is now synonymous with betrayal and greed.

Now, we have a new Joe McCarthy - only this one is even bigger and badder. And, he just happens to be President of the United States. Donald J. Trump, in fact, is SO much more belligerent that he makes ol' Joe look like a pussey!

The President rages on foes and friend alike. He is legendary for dressing down his staff in public (see Kirstjen Nielsen), insulting trusted allies (see Justin Trudeau), abusing the press (take your choice of network except Fox), disrespecting the disabled (see Serge Kovaleski), assaulting women (see grab them by the pussey), and, selling his so-called friends down the river (see Michael Cohen).

Despite these FACTS and the matter that he lacks support from more than half the Country, his base remains unshaken. In fact, with every slight, every blunder, they just seem to gravitate to him more and more. His bullying tactics seem to have secured him enough loyalty with the Republicans who control both the House and Senate that the very sight of his bulbous figure seems to send them trembling. They have sold him their souls.

So, what can we do to stop this cascading descent into near anarchy? Who will rise as OUR Joe Welch? Remember, after Welch's stinging rebuke, the Country had it's fill of Messrs McCarthy and Cohn. Both were eventually marginalized and died in obscurity.

Well, perhaps, we won't find another Joe Welch? Perhaps, no one, single person will emerge as The Voice of the opposition. Maybe it will be millions who will stand in the face of his wanton bigotry, insolence, ignorance, belligerence, pomposity, arrogance, sexism, xenophobia, megalomania, and, racism. I know I will be one of those millions. Will you stand?

When You Think About It

F LoBuono

Trump followers are like people who drive too slowly in the left lane -

They are either ignorant of the law that states the left lane is for high speed and passing,

And/Or

They simply don't care.

Either way sucks.

Guest Writer: Amanda Marie - Get Screened!

Amanda Marie

Amanda Marie has become a friend in the last few years whom I admire for her fearless activism for women, for children, for education, for freedom and liberty. And, she is not shy in taking on bigotry, sexism, racism, and fascism. We are thrilled to have her share her very personal story of survival and triumph over cancer with us.

I had cervical cancer. I was 30 years old, I was at my gynecologist after my postpartum visit from having my youngest child, and I had a routine pap. That routine pap came back with abnormal cells. And those abnormal cells turned out to be a fairly aggressive form of stage zero cervical cancer, which resulted in me having to have 2/3's of my cervix removed. I was extremely lucky. I had two back to back pregnancies, which sent my hormones into overdrive for 14 months straight, unchecked, with no pap test, and an aggressive form a HPV laying dormant in my body, waiting to attack. A pap saved my life. It literally saved my life. I am here today, because of a pap smear. I'm writing all of this tonight for several reasons:

1. Women are afraid to admit that they have HPV. They think because you can only get HPV through sexual transmission, that somehow, it means they are "less than" or did something wrong. I'm here to say that 80% of the population has HPV, both male and female. Basically, if you've had sex and you're not a millennial, you have HPV. But even if HPV wasn't so prevalent throughout the population, we need to stop looking at sexually transmitted diseases as anything more than what they are- diseases that should to be treated like cancer or heart disease. We need to remove the stigma from them.

2. So many people I know are NOT keeping up with their regular health screenings. When I have conversations with people on the subject of mammograms, pap smears or colonoscopies, I cannot begin to tell you how many people tell me that they have not had their regular exams. When I tell people my story, it doesn't seem to even convince them. I cannot begin to understand. THIS IS NOT A JOKE. All of these cancers are highly curable if caught early. And if not caught early, they will ravage your body. You will probably never even have a symptom before it's too late. I had none.

3. Elections have consequences- This election will have serious and profound consequences for women's health. This is not an exaggeration or understatement. Women will die as a result of this election. If Roe is not upheld, even more women will die. Women's health clinics are shutting down in Arkansas, as a result of Justice Kennedy, (who was once firmly on the side of choice, but who is now rumored to have been "courted" by Ivanka Trump all spring and hosted for lunches and persuaded to retire), by not allowing cases to come before the court on medical abortion, thus shutting down clinics in that state. I can think of several women who, at the last minute, were "persuaded" to vote for Trump over Hillary. What went through their heads, I will never begin to understand. How the pussy grabbing, the making fun of the disabled, and all of the other disgusting shit was not enough is beyond my reasoning, but whatever. They will live with the knowledge that their vote has sealed the fate of so many future girls and women who counted on them.

•••UPDATED
4 There is now a vaccine that stops most men and women from contracting many strains of HPV. It is called Gardasil. It needs to be started before kids become sexually active. It wasn’t around when my daughter Ashley was an adolescent, but Justin and Aidyn were vaccinated. Sadly, many, many kids who were able to be vaccinated were not. And why weren’t they? A lot of very misinformed, often male pediatricians convinced parents that this was not a good idea. Or had a “moral” objection to anything but “abstinence only” prevention. Or whatever. Bad science, and shitty American puritanical bullshit kept a whole generation of American kids from being properly vaccinated.

I write all of this tonight, because there was a time when I would have felt weak and powerless, and small and afraid. There was a time when I would not have wanted to talk about having HPV, because it made me feel embarrassed. And there was a time that I lived my life in fear, always smiled, tried to make everyone happy, tried to be perfect, and play the role of "Super Woman". I'm not Super Woman. I'm no longer afraid to just be who I am. I'm a highly flawed woman who made many questionable decisions in a questionable but very fun (and some parts no-so fun) sexual past that NO ONE should ever have to pay for with her life. I could be anyone. And if I was a man, my story would be told over laughs and drinks. But as a woman, it ended in cervical cancer, that thankfully, was caught. But that is my story. And I share it tonight, hoping that it saves someone's life, by convincing them to get a pap, get a mammogram, get a colonoscopy. Stop being an asshole and put your health and your life back in your hands.

The State of Education in Ghana: Stephen Abankwa

Story by Stephen Abankwa

Recent news reports on the lack of rehabilitation on collapsing classrooms in schools and the existence of dangerous school buildings are not new in Ghana. Schools were poorly built originally and the lack of maintenance has only made it worse. The same can be said of the roads, hospitals and other institutions in this country.

A healthy learning environment in schools is only possible when students and teachers are provided with adequate facilities. These facilities are not only related to teaching and learning, but also to provide a safe and sound infrastructure. Worrying about weak structures due to age and lack of maintenance can make learning more difficult.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

Lack of safe school buildings have had dire consequences. Recently, a severe rainstorm in Asante, Mampong Municipality destroyed six classrooms, including furniture and a common room.  This will lead to tremendous difficulties for both students and teachers. And, 6 KG students were killed when a classroom collapsed in Asikuma Odobe Brakwa District Assembly in the Central Region.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

Gomoa Afransi District Assembly Primary school is located in the District Capital of Gomoa East in the Central Region. Established in 1946, the school is one of the oldest basic school infrastructures in the Gomoa East District. According to the headmistress student population of numbers three hundred and two (302) pupils, both KG and primary, with 10 (ten) teachers. The school has produced numerous graduates for the development of Ghana since 1946 than any other institution Most graduates of this primary school continue their education and readily gain employment in both government and the corporate world.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

Yet, even this high functioning school suffers from lack of care.

According to the headmistress of the school, Madam Cecilia Yawson, last June a strong rain storm hit Gomoa Afransi and affected the roofing of the school, leading to the removal of the roof of some classrooms. Some of the classrooms have now been re-roofed but the rest remain damaged. She asked what could be done to keep it from happening again but no action was taken. The headmistress also added the media have taken both videos and images of the school but they do not appear in any news broadcasts to inform the public and the authorities of the current situation at the school.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

The state of the roof at the school is so bad that the carpenters who have come to look at it are afraid to walk on it! So, the condition of the school building has been the cause of untold hardship on the pupil, teachers, and the community as a whole and therefore requires urgent attention to be renovated.

According to one elderly resident of Gomoa Afransi who is believed to be an older graduate of the school and declined to give his name, tells me that since the establishment of the school in 1946, has only seen the school painted only once.

There have been numerous complaints about the condition of the school building by the school management and other stakeholders to the Ghana Education Service and the Gomoa East District Assembly. But, all have been futile.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

According to the headmistress, Ms. Yawson, she contacted the Assembly member of the town, Hon. Dominic Ato Nyame, who is also a teacher at Dawurampong Senior High School, to inquire the steps he has taken towards the rehabilitation of the school building especially the roofing and he said,

“I have reported the situation severally through both verbal discussion and letter written to the Gomoa East District Assembly but there was always one response that I receive that the Common Funds are not yet in.”

He added that during the 2016 election campaign then District Chief Executive Hon. Moses Jehu-Appiah called on the Chiefs of Gomoa Afransi to a ceremony in order to officially receive some allocation of iron sheets to re-roof the affected classrooms. This was meant as a temporary measure until the proper funds could be allocated. But, the Chiefs declined to attend that ceremony, accusing the Mr. Jehu-Appiah disrespected them by not paying them an official visit after he was elected. There is a saying that “when the two elephant fight, it is the grass that suffers”. Well, the school suffered. Nothing got done.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

There has been a growing evidence from across the globe that the condition of school infrastructure has a strong impact on the learning outcome of students. In addition to leaking roofs, there have been potholes in the floor, and some cracks within the walls and pillars of the school. According to many teachers, the bad state of the school buildings has caused the withdrawal of some pupils by their parents to other schools, tarnishing the reputation of a once fine school.

Many school projects that started under President John Kuffour’s term 12 years ago have been abandoned and remain incomplete. A formal park for student use was cleared but left undeveloped leading to uncontrolled erosion. Building decay is everywhere. So, the pupils always have their classes under trees and verandas on the school grounds.

Photo: Ebenezer Kyeremateng

Education of its people is the strength of any nation. So, if Ghana wants to be a light in Africa, to live up to the progressive agenda it often promotes, it must devote more attention to improving the crumbling infrastructure of its education system. Or, it is doomed, like too many other African nations, to squander its future.

Today's MOZEN: Feel The Heat

F LoBuono

The New York-Metropolitan area is experiencing the first heat wave of the Summer of 2018. An "official" heat wave is defined as at least three days of 90+ degree temperatures occurring in a row. This is day #2 of a possible 4 or 5. Throw in New York's legendary humidity and the word for it is oppressive.

And, I love it.

I know, I know, I must be out of my mind. But, that was already a forgone conclusion.

Allow me to explain.

First, I'm dark-skinned. Well, actually, I'm more than just dark, I'm swarthy. All of my ancestors come from sunny Sicily, known for its hot, dry climate. I've been there and I can attest to that. So, genetically, one may say that my body is programmed to deal with hot weather and a blazing sun. In fact, my skin reacts so positively to the sun that I believe I get darker from just looking at a picture of the sun! Of course, especially early in the season, before my skin gets any real exposure to the sun's rays, I'm always careful to use plenty of sunscreen and avoid over-exposure. I may love it, but I know how damaging the sun can also be. And, I respect it. Still, once I get my base coat, I'm almost like a huge battery - storing the suns energy within the very cells of my body. I rarely can get enough.

In the winter, once I get cold, I feel like no matter how hard I try, I can just never get warm again - no matter how many layers of clothing I put on! And, all that clothing is ANOTHER burden for me. I have no desire to be rapped up tighter than a mummy. I don't want to take twenty minutes to dress just to walk to the corner to mail a letter. In fact, I want to wear as little as modesty will allow for. And, THAT means hot weather. I also love the water - at any time and any place. Even a cold shower on a blistering day can provide soothing relief. These are the things that can only be fully enjoyed on a sweltering day.

But, then, there are days like today when it's not just the heat, it's the humidity! Let's face it, NO ONE enjoys peeling themselves out of their sweat-soaked clothes at the end of a long day. I can't say that I enjoy these type of days but, they don't wear on me too heavily, either. I just accept them. In fact, I do more than that - I yield to them. In a strange twist of irony, I feel heat waves are like winter blizzards. Mother Nature simply WINS. You must slow down or you risk injury and/or illness. Blizzards can bring hypothermia and heat waves dehydration - serious stuff.

So, I don't necessarily stop what I'm doing - I just do it much more slowly. And, for someone who is occasionally known as Frenetic Frankie, the change in pace is actually refreshing. I suppose that's why we often see Southerns as somehow slower - in the summer, they HAVE to be. Whenever I feel the scorching rays of the sun beating down on my face and body, I instinctively think of this Heyward/Gershwin song made immortal by Ella Fitzgerald with these lyrics:

Summertime, and the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high
Oh, your daddy's rich and your ma is good-lookin'
So hush, little baby, don't you cry . . 

Everything is alive. Everything is in full bloom. My garden grows, indeed! And, at the end of the long, hot summer, the earth will yield its bounty. And, you can't get better than that.

So, BRING IT ON!!