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The fun, the frustrating and the unbelievable-- Living in the Nation's Capitol |
| The story of relocation, transition and assorted moments of self deprecating reality... |
| Today, the Montebello owners association found yet another way to waste money and ensure that association dues increase again. The Board is obsessed with vehicle safety, and this may sound like a good thing until you learn that the average age of Montebello's residents is north of 70 years old and most of them have no business driving; nothing they do behind the wheel is considered safe. Things may appear unsafe to them, but the younger drivers are simply trying to fucking get around them. In many respects, Montebello functions like a home for wayward seniors. Every complaint generates a committee, a recommendation and a solution guaranteed to reduce reserves. We exchange outdoor lighting with the seasons; a new light bulb for each quarter it seems. And we are constantly buying and posting signs. Every complaint about lighting glare brings a new round of light bulb purchases and installation, each one more energy efficient than its predecessor. In 40 years, we have never pushed a light bulb to its natural death; we change them long before this can occur. To keep our 70 year-old residents on their toes, we create rules and every new rule deserves a sign. They're everywhere, an arrow and sign reading Picnic Area -->, dog walking area <--- this way, slow, no standing, no smoking, no smoking within 25 feet of entrance, no idling and 10 MPH. Do we need a fucking sign announcing the speed limit is just a touch faster than a brisk walking pace? The walking trail in our woodlands is not even a full mile in length, but we have 36 numbered poles proportionately staggered directing residence to walk in the correct numeric direction as if they could get lost. Admittedly, they are helpful when a walker gets lost or goes missing. Granny can be heard screaming out, "Help I've fallen at post #24 and I can't get up." Building signs are redundant, building ONE, building TWO, building THREE and yes, building FOUR. Can't we rely on the signage on the front of the building identifying the building by its assigned number? Do we need a sign pointing at the sign? Then there is the Speed Bump and Speed Hump sign to consider. Whats the fucking difference. I'm pretty sure these folks are not speed humping, but drivers are confused. What is a speed hump, something we're supposed to do tonight? On our 1.8 miles of road, we don't have a single traffic light. Nonetheless, our Traffic Engineer is guiding the actions of the Traffic Control Steering Group. When in doubt, establish a committee. We are saturated with elder folks and they have time, lots of it. When in doubt, create a committee, sub-committee, and workgroup. After much debate, the Safety and Access Control (SAC) Manager with concurrence from the Steering Group and Traffic Engineer are recommending: additional crosswalks; 10 MPH signs at the entrance to all parking lots; double yellow lines on both long and short sides of Mt. Eagle Drives; and length marks for compact spaces. And the humdinger, our security guards will be required to pontificate cautionary safety guidelines to entering guests. The estimated cost of implementation is $3,770. |
| Less than 14 hours after the shooting that killed 26 in a Baptist church in Texas, Donald Trump said, “We have a lot of mental health problems in our country, as do other countries, but this isn't a "guns" situation." I think that mental health is your problem here.” Governor Abbott said, “May God comfort those who’ve lost a loved one, and may God heal the hurt in our community.” And finally, the Sheriff praised the armed Texas citizen who grabbed his rifle and engaged the suspect. “Thank God for that hero,” said the local law enforcement officer. That completes the mass-murder hat-trick: 1) blame the incident on mental health; 2) defer gun-control dialogue to prayer; and 3) promote guns for all by asserting the right to defend oneself. And for the icing on the cake, the shooter used the NRA identified weapon of the month, an AR-15. |
| Twenty-six people were killed today in a church shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas. Tomorrow, the NRA will proclaim that guns don't kill people, people kill people, further asserting that if every parishioner had been armed, they would have been in a position to stop the gunman. The NRA will go on to blame the shooting on mental illness ignoring the fact the they oppose all efforts to restrict gun sales to the mentally ill. POTUS will defer substantive commentary and say, "Now is not the time to discuss gun control, it is time to mourn and respect those lost in this senseless shooting." Those on Capitol Hill will hold yet another moment of silence in chambers, and another mass-murder will be quietly logged into history. Society is becoming numb to the violence. An ISIS supporter mowed down eight pedestrians in New York City with a rented Home Depot truck 3 days ago. The story has already run it's course and has been discarded from the news cycle. The only solution to America's gun problem is ammo control by way of a severe user's tax. Increase the price of ammunition ten-fold; this might deter sales. If Congress doesn't take action, we are doomed. Sadly, I am afraid it is already too late. |
| After a lengthy run of headaches, 18 days straight to be exact, I reached out to my doctor. He was concerned and recommended a CT scan; he wrote the order immediately. It took about a week to get approval from the insurance company. I eventually received a letter authorizing a CT scan of the brain and cranial cavity without contrast, and this consent was good for 90 days. But by then, the headaches had subsided. So, I never got the brain scan. What’s the point, the headaches stopped? Fast-forward to today... More than 90 days have passed and my headaches have returned, but these are different. I awake every single day with a foggy feeling and dull mind-numbing throbs that take about an hour to clear. My memory is pitiful, once again I am wondering, do I have a tumor? |
| I once enjoyed the game Words with Friends. This morning, Carol played the word SHOJIS. What the fuck is a SHOJIS? This word garnered 48 points. |
| The sign at the rear entrance of the building reads NO SMOKING WITH 50 FEET OF BUILDING. The sign is attached to a cement cigarette butt depository and ashtray anchored to the earth four feet from the rear door. |
| Today, the Montebello condo association's monthly newsletter, The Times of Montebello announced an uptick in odor complaints in the third quarter. |
| July 28, 2016 - In direct view of the White House, Lafayette Square is the launch pad for protests large and small. On this particular day a small group of men gathered to proclaim their opposition to circumcisions, portrayed by the protesters as male genital mutilation. This group of foreskin enthusiast marched and chanted in unity occasionally posing for pictures protesting as they put it... history's greatest medical fraud. "Doctors lie, circumcisions harm," screamed one protester. "Foreskin is not a birth defect," chanted another. Dressed in white presumably to portray purity, each of the five men protested while bleeding from their respective crotch, or so they'd have you believe. The crotch of each protester, while wearing bright white pants was dripping of red paint in their genital region. To make their point of pain and torture, each displayed a bloody red patch- a wound of roughly 8 inches in diameter at their crotch. "Why would anyone selectively remove foreskins?" asked the fake-bleeding protester. Children stared in disbelief. Parents tried to usher their youngsters past. In this park, in front of the home housing the most powerful position in the world, law enforcement jurisdictions overlap. Cops watch the guards, secret service agents watch park police, everyone watches everyone and it is all monitored and recorded. Eventually, security shadowed the bloody five as they walked to H Street and flag a cab. It must have been a busy night for the drivers, cab after cab rolled past the waiving hands of the bloody five, none finding the need to stop. |
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