Twitter Reconnaissance

At long last, the evil censors are being exposed. Any human, with a minimum of three brain cells, knows what has been going on for the past several years. (Actually for much longer, but that’s for another day.) Voices in opposition to government policies have been suppressed, canceled, and vilified. But then along came Elon and the narrative is changing. Free Speech is making a comeback and the world owes a debt of gratitude to the electric car/rocket guy.

If I had a strong enough telescope, I could just about see Twitter headquarters from my adobe in the East Bay. So why wasn’t I over there getting a scoop on the goings on?

For one, I had not been to San Fransico in a few years. This had nothing to do with the covid fiasco. It had everything to do with not wanting to put my life on the line to travel on a BART train, and on into the hellhole that is SF. Even if one does not get robbed, mugged, or harassed on the train, it is not a pleasant trip. Nasty cars, piercing, squealing wheels, disgusting air. However, in the name of journalism, I decided to go forth and report.

The first hurdle would be to find a parking space at the BART station. It used to be that you had to arrive no later than 6 AM to find a spot. Generally, after 10 AM a few spaces became available. To my surprise, there were plenty of open spaces and I bet there had been all morning.

I noticed that the train, like the parking lot, was rather empty, which had never been my experience on a weekday. Fortunately for me, the ride from the East Bay to the Civic Center station was uneventful. Not one drunk, drug addict, or ill-behaved individual.

Once I exited the station and went above ground to Market Street, I took in the City. It felt so different than anywhere else in the huge metropolis that is the SF Bay Area. It feels like a city, is the only way to explain it. And although it was cold as all get-out, the sun was shining, and I briefly remembered what a glorious city San Francisco had once been.

The theme of emptiness continued as I made my way to Twitter HQ. I had never been to the City during the week when the streets were not fairly filled with pedestrians, cars, busses, and bicycles. Very odd, indeed.

I strolled by a group of workers repairing a sidewalk and got a nose-full of porta-potty fumes. When my nose still burned a block later, I realized the stench was coming from all the piss on the streets. From my morning excursion, I can state with authority that every single inch of San Francisco sidewalks are saturated in urine. I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t see any piles of poop and also avoided any needles.

The glorious Mayan-inspired, Art Deco building, (rather trashed by the unattractive Twitter sign), beckoned me. I walked along the front of the building but only saw an entrance to a high-end grocery shop. I turned left at the corner, walked along the side of the building, and still no entrance. Back on Market, I asked a couple of guys doing city security how the heck I was supposed to get into Twitter. They pointed down the street to the entrance to the lobby of the building, which was not for Twitter, but they could direct me.  Western Furniture Exchange Building

Two well-dressed young men manned the reception desk. This was old San Fransico; class all the way. Back when I was a kid, I remember the elevators in I. Magnin’s, were operated by ladies in taupe uniforms, white gloves, and white sticks that they used to coral the riders. I miss those days.

When I asked about how to get to the Twitter entrance, one of the men pointed me in the direction of the Twitter gatekeeper around the corner. I almost missed her. My mind had gone back a few decades and I was searching for a carefully attired matron. I had momentarily forgotten that high-tech dress code is not the same as the men at reception.

She was very kind, soft spoken, and there was no way I was getting that lobby tour. From where I stood, I couldn’t even see a sign indicating the entrance that I searched for.

So, back out on the street, I again walked down the side of the building and turned left into a walkway that separated the historic building from a new one. Astroturf and a firepit sat off to one side, and then I saw it. The famous Twitter lobby. No wonder I couldn’t find it at the address given. It’s in the new building to the rear.

I walked over to the massive front glass panels and doors and waved to the young man at reception. As with the men at the first building, this one also dressed in a suit and tie. Classy. He walked over and I asked if I could come in. I’m not at all sure he could hear me, but it was obvious the door would not be opened. I smiled and mimed if it would be all right to take pictures. I think he said OK. Or at least he didn’t send out security to stop me. Yet another polite, kind front desk person.

I sent the lobby photo to a friend the next day. He asked if that was where Elon had arrived with a sink. Son of a gun! I hadn’t even realized that when I was there. It was a different angle, and it was rather too cold to think properly, so I’ll stick with that as my excuse.

Although I didn’t get the lobby tour or get to personally thank Elon and his crew for doing the work to save the world, I felt pleased that I’d at least made the effort.

Walking back down Market St towards the BART station, I noticed one of the historic electric line cars. A while back, San Francisco purchased vintage electric streetcars from all over the world and run them on a line from downtown to the Embarcadero Pier. They are glorious!  

SF Historic Streetcars

All the cars have their place of origin somewhere on the side. I saw that this one was from the El Paso – Juarez line. It seemed appropriate as El Paso is in the news every day. It saddened me to think that at one time they were sister cities. Commerce between the two ran non-stop. I thought about all those people, all those years ago, who used to travel back and forth between cities and countries, and it was as normal as catching a bus downtown.

 

My, how the world has changed.

 

Newsome won.........California Lost

photo: Lucky Thompson, Oakland CA, Laney Tower News

Many of us truly believed that Governor Newsome could be recalled. But The Evil Disney Cartoon Villain* prevailed. (credit:*Dave Rubin) It had been a fair fight until mainstream media and Silicon Valley stepped in to silence those fighting to save our state.

What had been a movement to recall a truly inept, corrupt governor, became a Republican Takeover mantra. Local television stations, which not that long ago were fairly unbiased, began to report on the Newsome vs Elder contest. They echoed the cable news talking points. Stories ran on how Newsome would save us all from Covid, and Elder would kill us. Newsome actually stated that it “…was a matter of life and death.” That one, unsubstantiated lie, kept him in office.

Anyone who lives in California can drive around their city and see that one third of the small businesses are closed for good. Newsome did that. Parents can vouch that their children missed nearly a year and a half of in-person teaching and that schools are is still not back to normal. Newsome did that. Homeless encampments have blighted the entire state. Newsome did that. Forests continue to burn at an alarming rate, the power gird fails, water shortages are at an all-time high. Newsome did nothing to fix those problems.

How, I asked several people, can you possibly not vote to recall Newsome? The answers: “It’s not Newsome’s fault things are so dire. We might get someone worse. I looked at the other candidates and didn’t like them.”

At the time, I could only stare back in incomprehension. Now, possibly I have an answer.

For years, I have not been able to understand why the residents of the San Francisco Bay Area are so completely stuck in their view of Left is Good, Right is Evil. My conclusion: They are so wrapped up in their 1960’s liberalism that they do not realize that that world longer exists.

Back in the 60’s, middle- and working-class families, mine included, made up a good portion of the Democrat party, especially in Northern California. They represented the generation who had lived through the depression and WWII, gone on to build homes and raise families, all while keeping an eye on the world and the powers in charge. They were the party that would represent the downtrodden, prevent another world war, and protect against government overreach. That there happened to be more than a few Democrats in positions of power who were as corrupt as any Republican in the state, went without challenge.

In sharp contrast, they saw Republicans as country club elites. The fat-cats who drove Rolls Royce’s, wore diamonds and gold lamé, and, of course, ran Hollywood. These privileged rich folks had ever picked up a screwdriver or swung a sledgehammer. They looked down on the working class, and anyone who had to scrub out their own toilet. And naturally, they assumed that only they knew how to run the world.  

Over the past few decades, that equation has been turned upside down. The working class is now represented by the right; the elites control the left. However, the old and young hipsters in California have not figured that out. They are just happy that they turned California blue.

The rich and powerful no longer run country clubs but invent technology. The new crowd eschews the old symbols of power and wealth. Tesla’s replaced Rolls Royce’s. Solar panels and wind turbines, despite their severe damage to the environment, replaced a third of the power grid. Tree huggers prevented forest maintenance.

None of this occurred in the dead of the night with secret societies. It happened right out in the open. Those millionaire titans of industry began to dress like the common man, jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. They were defiantly the new cool kids in town. They spoke of saving the environment and helping the poor. Motivations of power and greed could be ignored if they looked like the average guy or gal, and preached a good line. Hollywood, a true old boys club, slipped right in with the caring Democrat persona. No matter how much of an elitist life they led, they offset any challenge to their privilege by pretending to care about the peons.

It is not that I am against elitists, or millionaires, or working hard to make vast fortunes, as many have. It is the blatant hypocrisy that makes my blood boil. Suddenly, the Tech Oligarchs can decide who has the right to speak and who does not.  Hollywood stars truly believe that their opinions and views outrank anyone else’s. Elected democrats ignore half the country because “they are wrong.”

As to the Bay Area crowd, they appear to be unaware of what is taking place right in front of their eyes. They still believe that if a politician has an R in front of their name, they are the devil incarnate. It is why no one I spoke to would even consider voting out Newsome and replacing him with Larry Elder or any other Republican. Not one of them, I am sure, bothered to look into the qualifications or statements before the election. How could they have done so? Newsome ran on a failed record, and If you vote me out, the Republicans will kill you. Nothing else. No track record, no plans for the future, no solutions to problems. Meanwhile, Elder and others addressed the issues and had actual plans to improve California’s miserable existence.

I have long believed that there is no hope for the State. The recall had given me something to grab on to. Maybe even reverse my views on the death of California. But it failed, and I now know that this state will never, ever be The Golden State of years gone by.

Teachers' Unions...The New Mafia

For the life of me, I cannot understand why the evil, tyrannical, power-obsessed Teachers’ Unions are so anti-education. They care nothing about enlightening our children and have not for decades.

I say this as a State of California credentialed teacher. As a child of the 60’s, I went into Education because I wanted to Save the World. It sounds rather foolish now, especially with the current state of public education. I have watched its slow deterioration year after year. The same can be said for the universities.  

Back when I began my career, I assumed everyone in my field had the same goal; educate the young people and we will all live in a better world. After a lifetime of watching the grift, hypocrisy, and outright thug tactics of the unions, I am not sure if that was ever true.

Anyone with even a few brain cells realizes the horrific damage being done to our students who, in California public schools, have been out of the classroom for nearly a year. Common sense would tell you what the statistics prove: increased depression and suicides, loss of socialization skills, one year of learning down the drain. These are ony a few of the consequences that may very well have a life-time negative effect on our children. And for what? 

When did educators become Mafia enforcers? That is the only logical way in which they can be viewed. Their resolute stance to keep schools closed is in exact opposition to what I had once believed was the motto of the profession: educate the masses. 

A quick look at the curriculum now offered in this State would make one cringe. Nevertheless, I would gladly overlook that disaster if only the kids were allowed back in the classrooms. In many districts, the quality of learning will be as woeful as it has been for ages, but it far outweighs the damage done by locking kids in thier homes. 

My only hope is that parents will finally wake up to the gangster-like tactics of the unions that care nothing about the well-being of their charges. Parents and guardians have a collective power that can take down the unions. 

Barstool Sports & The Tadich Grill

I don’t read Barstool Sports and, if I’m honest, I don’t really get it. Dave Portnoy, on the other hand, is the man. Possibly, the first time I heard of him was during the dust up with Roger Goodell. That was all I needed to become an instant fan. He has my lifetime vote for El Presedente.

Portnoy started his Barstool Fund in mid-December to help save small businesses that are being wiped out by stupid governors and their lockdown insanity. A short trip through my area in the San Francisco East Bay is all one needs for proof of the Overlords’ Dastardly Deeds. Shop, after restaurant, after shop, closed for good.

A few weeks ago, I happened upon Portnoy’s Twitter feed and began to watch all the wonderful videos of dying businesses Getting the Call from Dave. This meant that they would not lose their livelihoods. Heartwarming, tear-rendering, tiny glimpses into the true goodness that exists in this world.

One doesn’t need to be wealthy to donate $20 to such a fabulous cause, and I was just about to do so when I scrolled down to the Love Your Melon/Barstool Fund offer. I have wanted a Love Your Melon cap for years, (another very worthy organization), and now I could contribute to both campaigns.

Periodically, when I need a dose of positivity and smiles, I look at the Getting the Call videos. I almost fell off my barstool when I saw Tadich Grill in the feed. This is a restaurant to which I have a personal connection.

My parents loved Tadich Grill. The name itself brought a bit of reverence to my father’s voice when spoken. It is very possible that my dad’s first meal there was during WWII when, as a young Naval officer, he had shore leave in San Francisco.

After the war, my parents moved to the East Bay. My dad’s love and connection to San Francisco remained throughout his life. He knew the city up and down, left to right, as well as any non-native could. When out-of-town friends would visit, he’d give them the SF tour, often ending at the Tadich Grill.

On special occasions, he and my mother would go there for a meal.  And then, on possibly my thirteenth birthday in the mid-60’s, my parents took me there for dinner.

It is not something I have ever forgotten, but it had been buried in the back corners of the brain for quite a while. As soon as I saw Dave’s call with Jen, those memories flooded my frontal cortex. I can tell you the exact dress I was wearing, the table we sat at, the place settings, and the smiles of my parents. I don’t remember what I ate, but know it was good.

Thank you El Presedente for all that you do. Thank you Tadich Grill for the wonderful memories. Perhaps I will one day get over to SF and have another fantastic meal. Meanwhile, I’ll walk around with my Love Your Melon/Barstool Fund cap knowing that I might now be the coolest kid in town.

 The Barstool Fund      Tadich Grill    Love Your Melon

Califronians Need to Stand up

I have been vocal about my opposition to the shutdowns since last April.  As previously stated, two weeks of closure to flatten the curve was acceptable, but nothing after that. Now, nearly seven months later, California is still closed. Schools have not reopened. Small businesses are closed and will never come back. Life has stalled and one would think that the public would have reached the breaking point. Unfortunately, I see no sign of that in the San Francisco Bay area. The mantra remains, We are saving lives. Should I dare breathe a contrary notion, the scorn is palpable.  

The death of small businesses in this area, and all over the State, is profoundly depressing. Drive anywhere and all that can be seen is boarded up store fronts. Proprietors have lost their entire life’s work. How could any enterprise ever come back from seven months with a Temporarily Closed sign in the window?

Equally as sad, and an aspect I find extremely distressing, is what it has done to the old folks. I know of several mid-90-year-old’s who are spending their last days in isolation and in a state of deep depression. Actually, two of them have died, and it wasn’t from the virus. They were old, it was super-hot, and most people in this area do not have air conditioning, so I cannot say for certain that the lockdowns killed them. However, I do know that they spent their last months on this earth in a mental state that no one should have to endure. 

Anyone who has lived to the age of 95, still has their marbles, and is in decent shape, is a life to be celebrated. I am not sad when they go, but reflect on what an amazing life they led. Nonetheless, knowing how depressed all of these people are, because of the mandated rules, is heartbreaking. In conversations, both in person and on the phone, they constantly talk of how sad they feel. Cognitive decline, not noticeable six months ago, is clearly evident. Yet their friends and families are allowing this to happen. I know that my old friends are not concerned about catching Corvid and packing it in.  Afterall, not one of them had ever expected to live to nearly a century. So why should they be left to suffer in the isolation of their homes, or confined to their room in a senior center? I fail to understand how people happily comply with the State mandated rules to keep them locked up and alone. What sort of society does that?

There are countless other negative ramifications of these mandated rulings that have now done irreparable damage to the lives of all Californians, financially, physically, and emotionally.  And all without one good reason. Who, with even a modicum of intelligence, can actually believe that human beings can run away and hide from a pathogen? The virus needs to run its course as viruses have done down through the ages.

California, wake up. Our State is dying.

 

Day 2

Plans for getting a lot of writing done were not realized today. I blame it on the fog and cold. Try as I may, this brain does not creatively function in such conditions.
Yes, I do realize that is a rather poor excuse.

To anyone stuck at home and thinking of writing, how about turning the next month into a NaNoWriMo extravaganza? What people are able to accomplish during the event that takes place every November, never ceases to amaze me. They actually do have a physical headquarters, which I visited a few years ago.
The Office of Light and Letters

One could also use the time to read some light-hearted, fun, escapism books. All of my titles would suit the bill. If you have Amazon Prime, kindle editions are free.

Tomorrow, I hope will prove to be more productive!