Palo Alto Free Press Mystery Photo

Mystery PhotoUnlike our competitor the Daily Post were putting our money where our mouth is by offering a $50.00 Starbucks gift card to the first person to identify where this mystery photo was taken and for what purpose?  Hint a national holiday…….

It’s All About The Shizit

An Open Letter to Ms. Liz Kniss

Liz KnissMs. Kniss:

On Saturday (9/14/12) you really hit the s**t at the League of Women Voters’ candidates’ debate. (But you are no Mrs. Robinson. I saw The Graduate 29 times and you are no Mrs. Robinson.)

But you sure did hit the shizit. You found the fecal, Friend. It’s all out there now. Talk about putting your business in the street! It’s on now! Yes, it is out, Scout.

Seriously, you performed a great service. You identified what may well be the essence of support for the Vehicle Habitation Ordinance (VHO) for at least some part of the commuity. You seem to speak for—to use your phrase—“The Personal Business Faction.”

One of the proper functions of a leader is to highlight and communicate the essence of an issue–what really matters—for members of the public.

As I understand you, you are saying that for those opposed to allowing people to be free to live in/out of vehicles the main, motivating concern is where/how/when vehicle campers toilet themselves.

Is there some reason to think that houseless people forget their toilet training? Or that we are not able to figure out where bathrooms are? Don’t people using parks or just doing their jobs or chores or out running errands have the same challenge?

It can be messy, but it’s much better to get it out rather than hold it in. If it’s about the s**t, I say let it ALL hang out! I praise you for calling it what it is. So it’s about people’s personal business. I think you hit the mother lode.

It’s not about po’ folk having the nerve to live out of vehicles–when everyone knows the NORMAL thing to do would be living out of over priced housing like most everyone else in sunny Palo Alto—it’s this big unknown, nagging question, “Where do these people s**t?”

(I keep wondering if the people who seem to want to take away our vehicles have thought through where they want us to go after we lose those vehicles. Their lawns? Downtown sidewalks? The low-cost and below-market-rate housing that the Association of Bay Area Governments is “shoving down our throats”? Oh, that’s right, such housing is heavily resisted and avoided whenever possible.)

And a very white-bread, middle-class concern this is—the defecation location question. And don’t white-bread, middle-class concerns have a right to be represented and heard?

Where/how/when do houseless people s**t? Let me first say to all people so concerned—and I speak on behalf of a wide swath of hoboes, houseless, and transients when I say it–“Thank you, for making our fecal matters the focus of your concern. Who knew you even cared?”

Let me assure you all that we all take care of our toileting issues much the way you all do, with just a little less convenience.  Maybe. For all I know, my bathroom issues may be less burdensome than yours.

You’d have to ask others who sleep in cars and on the ground to get a fuller picture, but it seems to me you just figure out somewhere you can use a toilet before you go to bed and go use it before you go to bed.

Thanks to the generosity of private Palo Alto residents, there are a number of bathrooms available 24/7 in the City, even though the City itself has a policy against allowing bathrooms in parks to be available at night. Sometimes the City builds parks purposely without bathrooms. Sometimes it just closes them at night. That’s another but related matter.

I’ve been houseless here in Palo Alto for three years this past July.  I slept in the tilt-back front seat of my car in the alley behind Happy Donuts for the first year.  I just went in Happy Donuts and used the bathroom there whenever I needed to.  There is also a bathroom Jim Davis is kind enough to leave open 24/7 in his Valero station on the corner of Los Robles and El Camino Real, just down the street from Happy Donuts.

And there’s another always-open bathroom in the Safeway on Middlefield that’s open all night.  That’s not an exhaustive list, but you get the idea.  There ARE bathrooms available.  There should be MORE bathrooms available–for us, for parents and grandparents who have to take their kids home from parks because there’s no bathroom there, for shoppers, bicyclists, walkers, seniors–just folks who might need one.

After my year in the front seat of my car in the alley behind Happy Donuts, I developed swollen lower legs. I slept out on the ground in a couple of secluded spots.

Then I went into the shelter in the Armory in Sunnyvale the following winter.  That is a fine program. I was reluctant at first. But after one night, I never left. Being able to sleep safe on a mattress on a flat floor was much better for my legs—much better than when they weren’t supported in my front seat.

After the Armory closed at the end of March, I slept outside again, but it was still kind of chilly. I’d get up in the middle of the night and go to the Coin Wash next to Happy Donuts and sleep on the folding table in the back. Almost no one washed clothes there after two a.m.

Eventually I applied and got into the Hotel de Zink where you rotate from one church to another for three months.  It’s also a fine shelter program.  Both the Armory and the Hotel de Zink had bathrooms, warmth, safety, and you could stretch out flat. Plus you got a meal every night and breakfast in the morning. In the Hotel de Zink you got lunch-making materials also.

Now I’m back sleeping in my car. I lost a bunch of weight and learned from a very tall unsheltered friend who asked if she could sleep on the front seat of my car one night that I could curl up on the back seat. At least my legs are on the same level with my heart, which the doctor says is mad important for heart health. I park near Happy Donuts and have the use of their bathroom again.

Others spend the night parked in their cars nearby. Happy Donuts is one of the great houseless resources on the Peninsula. It has drawn unhoused folks from San Jose to San Francisco who need a place to spend the night.  When you’re tired of riding the “Hotel 22″ (Number 22 VTA bus), you stumble in to Happy Donuts and spend the rest of the night with your head down on the table in front of you or hanging back over your chair or nodding. Or you stay up and watch movies or play games or do school work or read or research or have interesting conversations or write or work on projects for work or for your own startup or email or browse the web for whatever you’re interested in.

The Coin Wash next door is open 24/7 like Happy Donuts and you can watch TV there, do a laundry, read, or just sit. Sleeping there can get you awakened by some interesting people at all times of the night and early morning. After being chased out a half dozen times, I began to think I wasn’t welcome and just didn’t come back anymore.

But I digress from the focus on feces.

I looked into the issues bothering the Greenmeadow Neighborhood Association (GNA) about the people camping in cars and on the ground at Cubberley.  The GNA folks also said they were quite concerned about “defecating and urination” by the people there.

One night when I was sleeping there (on a rectangular table on the plaza behind the library), I found the Foothill College men’s room was open instead of locked as usual. It was a weekend night and there was a sign on the inside of the door saying that the bathroom was open on weekend nights.

Some checking with other car campers there revealed that the bathrooms WERE actually open on SOME weekend nights.  They were SUPPOSED to be open on ALL weekend nights (why not weekday nights also?), but when the weekend custodian was the one who didn’t like houseless folks, the bathrooms were NOT open.  On the weekends when the custodian who WAS a houseless “car camper” at Cubberley was working, he left the bathrooms unlocked.

But even though the bathrooms are usually locked, there’s still always a port-a-potty at the edge of parking lot where it meets the playing fields.

So, here was my proposal to the GNA, through their very friendly, very reasonable president Zachi Baharav:  Let’s work together on getting those bathrooms open EVERY night and then your concerns are answered AND those who live there can live a little more easily—more like YOU’D like to be able to if you found that your best option was to live in your vehicle parked in some semi-friendly location.

That was at least semi-reasonable, right? Would you believe Zachi was not able to find anyone who had toilet concerns who was also willing to meet, to discuss, or even correspond on the subject? I was quite amazed.

So, that’s why my hat is off to you, Ms. Kniss.  You popped the cork, opened the floodgates, called it what it is. I do thank you for making something that wasn’t so clear a lot clearer—just how basic this concern is.  And that it must be dealt with—it can’t be ignored just because it’s icky. You have shown the way.

My statement is:  we unsheltered take care of our s**t.  We (in general) use toilets whenever available and clean up after ourselves when they are not.  We take precautions and figure out where we can go when we need to go.

There really is not as great a problem here as you might think from hearing the concerns expressed.  I’ve smelled a lot worse streets in most other places I’ve lived. Also, there are certain sights and sounds that one experiences in any and every urban location–and in most places it’s getting more like that all the time. However, in Palo Alto the houseless population—at least at Cubberley– is not increasing.

For those caught in the jaws of the economic trap often referred to as the “greatest transfer of wealth from poor and working people to the wealthy in the history of this country,” there are certain dislocations in more than just regular housing. Convenient toilet access is not the only problem.

Decisions were made, countries were invaded, dead and dying are still multiplying.  Private enrichment at public expense has run riot and still rages on barely abated.  Wars–very, very expensive wars–were waged and not paid for.  Tax cuts were lavished on the populace and not paid for. Liar loans by investment banks (well, almost) were approved.

Wouldn’t it be awfully strange if those who’ve borne the brunt of the transfer of wealth didn’t show a sign or two of despair, poverty, and deprivation? Losing jobs, homes, vehicles (from lots of causes, not just anti-vehicle habitation ordinances)–all these lead to many dislocations—some physical, some psychological. Houseless people—poor people– have many pressures, worries, fears, and things to think about—where to use a toilet is only one of those concerns.

What are we going to do, Palo Alto?  Continue with the policy of “No Potties For the Poor” (So They Can Be Further Marginalized For Public Defecation?) like the mean custodian at Cubberley?  Or are you going to be like the good custodian at Cubberley and try to solve a “problem,” instead of exacerbate it?

Don’t be an exacerbater.  Open up the bathrooms. Cleanliness for all!

I ask you, Ms. Kniss, to take up this challenge. You’ve identified the issue, clarified the issue–now bring porcelain to the poor!  Help clean up this problem.  You were the first to call it by name.  Lead the crusade. Let a thousand toilets  flush!

Chuck Jagoda, Houseless Advocate

Sen. Jerry Hill to speak at strip club

Déjà Vu Showgirls
Déjà Vu Showgirls

State Sen. Jerry Hill, who represents the mid-Peninsula, will hold a press conference at a strip club near Sacramento this morning, asking the Legislation for more transparency when it comes to business is receiving tax breaks.

Wants more openness about tax breaks, like the one this club got

Hill, D-San Mateo, and state Sen. Anthony Cannella, R-Ceres, will be at Déjà Vu Showgirls in Rancho Cordova, a fully nude strip club that has received thousands of dollars in tax credits from state government.

According to Hills office, strip clubs would claim up to $37,000 in tax credit for each worker hired, even when they don’t create new jobs.

That’s more than the servers, waitresses and sales clerks earn in one neat year at the club, according to a press release from Hill.

“With a large, showgirl stable housing over 80+ curvaceous stage performers, this capital city locale lights-up the night with parties that are never forgotten,” The club’s website says. “And with a club capacity of over 150 reveling patrons, the party train keeps moving.”

The club got it’s tax credit from the California Enterprise Zone program and Hill  introduced Senate Bill 434 to let taxpayers know where their money is going.

The legislation would establish a database to let the public know which companies get the tax breaks and how many jobs they’ve created.

The program was set up in 1984 to create jobs to low-income communities. Gold club Centerfold in Rancho Cordova is another club that’s used the program for tax credit.

A manager at Déjà Vu told post yesterday they will not be participating in today’s press conference.

The clubs owner told Hill’s office that he did not see the tax credit but was approached by tax consultants who got a piece of pie.

Greg Munks. Photo courtesy of the San Mateo County Sheriff's Office
Greg Munks. Photo courtesy of the San Mateo County Sheriff’s Office

As a side-note to this story, it is allegedly rumored that San Mateo County Sheriff Gregory Monks will be providing Hill with escort service and protection.

The Daily Post Today
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Puff the magic “Commissioner” lives by the Palo Alto courthouse

Commissioner James Madden
Commissioner James Madden

♫ And frolics in the autumn smoke…too pollute you and me…. ♫

It might soon be illegal to smoke cigarettes and medicinal joints in most Palo Alto Parks.

Last night, City Council’s Policy and Services Committee said it wants the full council to consider a law that would ban smoking in all parks under five acres, which includes 22 of the city’s 34 urban Parks.

Protecting public health

“The council is the guardian of public health,” Councilwoman Liz kniss said, before supporting the recommendation, which got on unanimous approval from Kniss, Larry Klein, Karen Holman and Gail Price.

City may outlaw it at most parks

Kniss said the committee isn’t recommending the band because residents have complained about smoking in parks, but rather because second-hand cigarette smoke has been linked to cancer.

The ban would also make it illegal for those with medical marijuana prescriptions to smoke joints in small parks, since the ordinance would outlaw “combustion of any cigar, cigarette, tobacco or any similar article,” according to city attorney Molly stump.

Though the council members all agreed on making smoking illegal in Parks, Holman worried about whether it was right for the committee to expand the ordinance so far beyond the one listed in the agenda, which only proposed a smoking ban in three city parks.

“We’re expanding what was noticed a great deal.  I think the public should have the opportunity to weigh in on something like this,” Holman said.

Still time to fight it

But stump said that because the proposed law would still go before the council twice before it could be officially approved, residents who were against a smoking ban would still have enough time to appear. The committee said it was interested in banning smoking in all city parks and open spaces.

Park smoking ban studied, By Breena Keer Daily Post Staff Writer.  Article powered by Dragon Dictation an ipad App

National Cancer Institute

A New New Years Story!

aa-monument-to-top-onlyaaaWell, as the Holidays wind down and the new year begins, I find myself as usual “waxing philosophical.” I also find myself waxing the car. Yes, just thinking how the New Year will be now that I am pushing sixty and a third of my life is over. It’s time to review my life, take stock of my assets and purge my liabilities and, yes, take out the centennial and millennial garbage, not to mention the cat.

Yeah, time to make some new year’s resolutions. And to begin with, I think I have been too hard on my fellow man, woman and water fowl, but not the midgets as they have it hard enough and seem to be a happy lot already.

I will start by rethinking my personalized license plates and bumper stickers, as today the rear end of the auto is the official communication line of the real world. So, with this in mind, I will turn in my plates that say, “WAY2CLS” and “BCK OFF” (for the license plate reading impaired: “way too close” and “back off”), and replace them with one that says “PLATE” and on my other vehicle, “C OTHER PLT.” Then I will try to park them near each other as often as possible. On the Pinto, though, I’ll get one that just says, “GOTALIGHT”?

And I will stop complaining about some of the messages people put there, too. I saw a plate the other day, GBM213. What was that all about? I have no idea. I spent an hour trying to figure it out.
I will also remove those bumper stickers that say, “Gun aboard” and “Have ya killed anyone today?” I will replace them with something more positive like, “I need to change lanes . . . Please” and “If you can read this, you have good vision.”

I will refrain from referring to political leaders as blood sucking varmints, NAFTA weasels or bumbling graft taking geeks. I will remove other words from my vocabulary, too, like hooters, Armageddon, flap jacks, oh my golly, clam dip, and verbose, especially in reference to women, political candidates and Albanian Geese. I will replace them with funny words like ointment, condiments, utensils and thistle. I also like fruition a lot and porcelain.

There are a few ideas, inventions if you will, I have been working on, too, that I think humanity might thank me to give up on. For instance, the fish omelet. I don’t think the world is quite ready. I also think the back yard commode is a bit premature. I just thought that letting the sun shine were the sun don’t shine, surrounded by plants and flowers, would be quite nice on a sunny summer day and could double as a dog watering bowl or bird bath.

And I am finally going to give up on inventing a new letter for the alphabet. It’s been a long time since we had a new letter. What was it anyway? J? So, I’ve been trying to see what it would look like and I finally decided that whenever you pronounced it, you would have to move your thumb to your nose. It would be that sound you make when you sniff. It would look something like this “)^”and here is the first word I made with it! )^ugowamuorphis. And since every word needs a definition, to go with it:

)^ug-o-wam-u-orphis, v. old wise one who makes up new letters, words or gardening tools {from bill English {see bone head}. [Preprandial*]

*(Relating to time just before dinner.)

I will start paying more attention to the expiration dates on food and stop relying on my taste buds, especially when cooking for guests. And I will stop referring to my taste buds as “my buddies.”
I will strive to become what my parents always wanted me to be: someone else’s child. I will stop thinking of Porsches as small, noise and rattly, ‘53 Buick wannabees. And I will not buy a Woody and cover it with carpet.

When I pass the refrigerators at Sears, I will stop saying, “My icebox gives ice and water out of the door, but it didn’t come from the factory that way.” Unless my daughter is with me cause that would always make her laugh. Also, I will stop calling my refrigerator an icebox.

Yes, there are an awful lot of little things one can do to brighten the lives of others. But what about the plant world? I could stop driving over the lawn and start watering it more. And why cut it? Do we think that plant life likes to be cut with a 3 ½ horsepower modified fuel-injected Brigs and Stratton killing machine?

At the supermarket, I will refrain from squeezing the tomatoes and avocados so hard and avoid squeezing the watermelons altogether. And I have a hodgepodge of other improvements, too. If someone asks me an intelligent question, I will try to answer it instead of saying, “Well, if I knew the answer to that, I’d be president.” And while we’re on it, if I’m chosen to be a candidate for president, I will not run.

Just want to make that perfectly clear. On major holidays, I will make sure the turkey is dead before putting it in the oven. And I will no longer use the word hodgepodge either, accept for just a little while ago.

I will also strive to learn the difference between certain words, like accept and except, where and were, and to, too, two and 2 ‘cause it’s really two bad I haven’t learnt the difference yet. I will stop saying, “The check is in the mail” — unless it really is or I just don’t have any money or I am out of stamps.
You know, the world can be made a better place if we all just try a little harder, pay our bills on time, let others change lanes and realize our neighbors may have as many problems as ourselves … but more and bigger guns.

But, the biggest change I plan to make, though, will be when I drive through Donner Pass. I will stop thinking about food, even though Donner sounds a lot like dinner to me. And if I can follow through with these resolutions, who knows, perhaps next New Year’s Eve I won’t be spending it at home all alone again, thinking about the last hooter, uh, I mean babe….uh, well, person of the female persuasion who just dumped me . . .again. ^(orth!

The End

Finding Inner Peace During the Holidays

Inner PeaceI am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives.

By following the simple advice I heard on the Dr. Phil Show, I have finally found inner peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed, “The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you’ve started and never finished”.

So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn’t finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel. Please pass this on to those you feel might be in need of innerpeace.

Darol Wester – Contributor

The Santa-Gnostic and the Fox

I was thinking about Christmas this year and thought back to my forty-seventh one. Which was not long ago and yet, far away.  I was thinking of that year because it was the year that I decided to “not”celebrate Christmas. I intended on by passing the whole affair.

I was going to be an atheist or agnostic or certainly a Santa-Gnostic. And somehow, I remembered that they said that there are no atheists in a foxhole but what if a Santa-Gnostic meets a fox, what then? I was about to find out.

Now, after surviving all those past Christmases and growing up with my parents in Culver City, who would over decorate the house each year a wee bit too much, by having me cut reindeer and elf’s out of plywood, starting in July and ending in December, it was time for a change.

I contributed for many years, in my own way, by making their heads move up and down with old barbecue motors and I would grind up old surfboards for snow. And then after all those years I raised my daughter and there were all those Christmases too, not to mention all the Christmas plays and turkeys.

I mean, just think about all the trees that were cut down just for our family and after all those many Christmas’s we ended up with forty-seven dead soldiers lying by the trashcan with their tinseled needles turning brown.

Yeah, it was time for a break from all that. So, I decided that since my daughter was now grown and had not yet had kids of her own, it would be a perfect time to just enjoy the “not doing” of Christmas. Something I had always thought about. Yes!

I would not send one single Christmas card, not spend one minute in a shopping center, getting elbowed standing in long lines, buying gifts that just get returned anyway. No gift-wrapping or un-wrapping, no chestnuts roasting on an open fire with the fire department showing up to give me a warning and no Tom and Jerry’s to wash it all down with.

I told all my family and friends of my plans and I even decided to spend Christmas day in my studio making art and enjoying a good cigar, all alone . . . alone.

Yes, that was my plan, and it was working just fine too. As I passed shopping centers I could see people inside with scowling faces fighting over items and standing in lines that were way too long. I just smiled and enjoyed an anti-holiday moment.

Yes, this was quite a change from the many other years I endured. In fact, I was enjoying the anti-Christmas spirit so much I caught myself starting to hum Christmas tunes.

But then, like a politician reneging on a campaign promise, it was all about to change. Just a week before Christmas, while I was sitting in my studio, watching all the people in their cars outside, with fists raised, giving each other the holiday finger, yelling and honking and well generally being in the traditional holiday spirit, having a great time splendid in their anger, when a beautiful girl appeared at my door.

One of those Swedish looking girls with high Swedish cheekbones, and deep dark blue Swedish eyes with ribbons in her hair and her hair down to there. She wore a dress that was so tight I could read what it said on her underwear.

It said Victoria Secret. She was the kind of girl that could wear a dishtowel and still look good. The kind of girl you wanted to take home, not to meet mom, but to meet dad so you could just show off a little.

As she walked over to my worktable it was as if time stood still. Each click of her high heels on the concrete floor reverberated in my mind like little chipmunk’s pitter-pattering over my brain. As she stood in front of me she said, “ Hi, I’m Brenda and I’m applying for the position of secretary.”

I opened my mouth to speak but realized it was already open. So I shut it, then opened it to speak. “Secretary, secretary, (I had no add out for a secretary, I thought, but I didn’t say that) Yes, I need a secretary.

I mean I really, really need a secretary, one that looks exactly like you (I didn’t say that either). I did have some papers around that were in need of a good filing, so I said instead, “You’re applying for the position of secretary?”

Trying to not be too anxious, though, I asked her a few questions about her abilities and then had her put a stamp on an envelope for me. Now, I must say that I had never seen anyone lick a stamp and apply it to an envelope in quite that way. In fact I was so transfixed that I didn’t even care that the stamp was self-adhesive.

I could also tell, by then, that she was not the kind of girl who would call Gloria Allred if I asked her to make me a cup of coffee. I realized that I could spend many years staring into her deep blue Swedish eyes and not get bored. What was even better, though, I learned that she did not have a boyfriend or had made any plans for the holidays.

Well, needless to say, I hired her on the spot and a moment after that realized this was not going to be my “Grinch Christmas.” I had just been clobbered by the Christmas spirit and the spirit was wearing a short tight dress, had nice legs and wore a cute Swedish smile. I was now going to have to fit all my Christmas-ness into just seven days.

I spent that night decorating the house stringing lights till past midnight for the now “on” again Christmas party. The local Christmas tree lots, at this late date, were a little short of nice full trees so I bought two and wired them together for a more “full” look and a little green spray paint helped quite a bit.

The next day I found myself standing in one of those long lines that just a day ago I dreaded. But unlike all the others standing with me I had a great big smile on my face, as I couldn’t wait to purchase something really nice, tasteful and expensive for Brenda and well sure, sure, every one else on my Christmas list.

I called all my relatives and friends and re-invited myself to all of the various parties and had them note I would be bringing a “date.

There was no time to send Christmas cards so I delivered all eighty-five of them in person. Brenda helped by making me coffee and organizing the annual studio Christmas party and she did it so well I even gave her a raise.

Well, Christmas was really great that year with Brenda but. . but. . . but, it was not to be. Before New Years Eve it was over. Brenda had met a minimalist who, after spending just 15 years painting his canvases all one color, became even more minimal in his work, dispensed with paint, canvases and stretcher bars altogether and progressed to just pounding a nail in the wall and signing it. She thought his new outlook on art was, as she put it, “So beyond pure” and then, after telling me our budding relationship was over, commented that one of my artworks was “Pedantic.”

I said, “ Of course, . . .of course it’s Pedantic, it’s the word pedantic spelled out in pasta!” I exclaimed. But, to no avail, it was over as fast as it had started.

That New Years Eve, I spent in my studio smoking a fine Cuban cigar thinking of Castro, like an island dictator alone once again, just me, my table saw, rotor, multi-vibrating sander, chisels, Elmer’s glue, clamps, and of course my compound miter saw, all kept toasty warm by my Christmas trees burning in the potbelly stove. My thoughts turned again to, what happens if a Sainta-Gnostic meets a fox, I finely knew, but wished I didn’t.

Twinkie-Maker To Seek Approval For $1.8 Million In Bonuses During Liquidation

AP | By Jillian Berman

NEW YORK — Hostess Brands Inc. plans to ask for a judge’s approval Thursday to give its top executives bonuses totaling up to $1.8 million as part of its wind-down plans.

The maker of Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Ho Hos says the incentive pay is needed to retain the 19 managers during the liquidation process, which could take about a year. Two of those executives would be eligible for additional rewards depending on how efficiently they carry out the liquidation.

Hostess is also seeking final approval for its wind-down, which was approved on an interim basis last week.
The process includes the quick sale of its brands, which also include Wonder Bread. Hostess says it has received a flood of interest in the brands. The company’s bankruptcy means loss of about 18,000 jobs.

The Huffington Post contributed to this posting

City of Palo Alto Habitation Vehicles will remain for now

“Eat Pussy Not Cow”

Palo Alto vehicle dwellers received a reprieve at last night’s Policy and Services Committee meeting not to ban vehicle dwellers in a 3 to 1 vote.

Instead choosing a 6 month pilot program modeled after the Homeless Car Camping Program in Eugene, Ore.

Seriously absent throughout all discussions were the Palo Alto Human Relations Commission tasked with dealing with human issues impacting our community including this one contrary to their mission statement:

“To address human relations issues, including promotion of awareness, understanding and resolution of actual or potential conflicts, discrimination, or injustice while encouraging community building and civic engagement.”

All commissioners were essentially deaf dumb and blind a major embarrassment and sat comfortably in the back seat of their vehicles and chose to ride out the disenfranchised storm. We continue to question their advocacy and existence in light of their absence on this important community issue.

On a personal level we would much rather see the naysayers of this now defunct city ordinance to ban vehicle dwellers eat crow rather then what the feature picture suggests.

“I don’t vote – Two reasons”

“I don’t vote. Two reasons. First of all it’s meaningless; this country was bought and sold a long time ago. The shit they shovel around every 4 years *pfff* doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Secondly, I believe if you vote, you have no right to complain.

People like to twist that around – they say, ‘If you don’t vote, you have no right to complain’, but where’s the logic in that? If you vote and you elect dishonest, incompetent people into office who screw everything up, you are responsible for what they have done. You caused the problem; you voted them in; you have no right to complain.

I, on the other hand, who did not vote, who in fact did not even leave the house on election day, am in no way responsible for what these people have done and have every right to complain about the mess you created that I had nothing to do with.”

George Carlin