Want to see a real live ghost town?

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Like scary stories? Come view one of USA's premiere ghost towns: Gary, Indiana. I've been there and lived to tell the tale -- largely because I had the brains to get my tail the hell outta there!


But downtown San Francisco has actual zombies

San Diego die-in

Corpses on the tracks?! Not quite. They are human bodies but they're not dead ones. These snapshots come courtesy of a reader who was downtown when protesters staged a die-in on San Diego's Fifth Street. After a march to the destination they laid down on the trolley tracks en masse in observance of the citizens who have died at the guns/tasers/strangle holds of police brutality -- largely gone unpunished.

If you have pics of a monumental/weird happening or funny sign from your travels (which may or may not have included racism), please share it with me and I'll post it.

#FuckIsrael

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Or to be more eloquently blunt:

Stand your ground

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Boorish border patrol (SAN YSIDRO)

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All of this mess regarding the flood of Central American immigrants reminds me of my troubles crossing into U.S. You heard right. See, the border patrol is staffed by assholes and giving people a hard time is what these asshole social rejects do best. And since I'm no illegal immigrant my passage through simply could not be stress free.

I'm still getting paid either way!

In May of this year, crossing the San Ysidro port, a young officer (or whatever the hell they term themselves) named SANDOVAL gave me a lot of lip for requesting a Comment Card because to have simply handed me one would have been, well, too simple a thing to do. When I asked to speak to his boss or supervisor he smarted off that his boss was in "Washington"; but, gathering my unwavering intent on writing a letter, the real icing on the cake came when the braggadocious bastard exclaimed: So what! I'm still getting paid either way! And he repeated it for good measure. I'm still getting paid! 

Doesn't his attitude just say it all. 

He then made a photocopy of my passport for rebuttal purposes to my complaint. A trip to the Customs & Border Patrol (CBP) website provides for complaints to be made in one of two ways: anonymous or non-anonymous. I filled in mine with my name and age because I wanted to get a response on this smartass jerk. (I have the impression they expect persons to write anonymously; that way CBP doesn't have to get back to you and if they don't have to get back to you, then why bother claiming to investigate the complaint? It's a no brainer when you think about it. Govt workers don't want to work. That's why they applied for work in the govt in the first place. Remember: I'm still getting paid! ) 

Weeks went by with nothing but lip service from the Supervisory Program Manager at San Diego's field office, a Mssss Wilson, who, again, requested my name and date of birth.

if they [CBP] don't have to get back to you, then why would they bother to investigate the complaint?

Then, well over a month later, this Wilson chick emails she has a response -- and would like to mail it to me. Say what? All of sudden email wouldn't do?...
See, rather than police the police these cocksuckers want to sweep misdeeds under the rug and, instead, get something on those who complain about pig behaviour. I kindly assured Msssss Wilson it was all right to continue corresponding electronically but that, in lieu of such, she was welcome to address the letter to me via ACLU's San Diego office and provided their street address for her convenience.

Still haven't heard back from the cunt yet. 

Travelling to America

Some asslines now charge for carry-on. Say what?!

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Some Airlines are now charging for carry-on bags. Oh you didn't know? Well...they conveniently neglected to inform consumers on this policy change. Seems enough travellers heeded the suggestion to pack light and forewent flying with bags for cargo. The asslines weren't making money. Solution: rewrite the rules and "make" small carry-ons too big. 

When the official decree  comes out - if it were already so, then all airlines would be subjected to this FAA regulation versus a few - I'm sure it will be attributed to Islamophobic terrorism.  

Click on the above link to get a heads-up on which fuckers have found a new way to nickle-and-dime consumers. 

PS: It doesn't matter if you fly business class either.

@TWPTilden

Gun play

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I wrote on this months ago upon seeing a massive billboard in Berlin for the latest installment to the Grand Theft Auto video game but I guess if it doesn't come from TMZ or Washington Post or FOX News, then it doesn't matter.

Talk about mixing with a white crowd!

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Well I'll be a monkey's uncle! America has a black president AND a black klansman? Shiiiet. No, not that has-been hack Michael Steele but a real, live black Klu Klux Klan member by the name of Ron Stallworth. And here, throughout my travels, I thought I was always around white people.

But hold on to your multiculturalist applause. There's a caveat: Mr Stallworth was an undercover policeman. But who, you ask, did he manage to stay under the sheet without even failed presidential candidate David Duke finding out? Read the Huffington Post article here. 

Better still, visit his personal web log
Black Klansman.

What's next! Men marrying men??

High cost of living in cheap Mexico

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It may be cheaper to pitch tent in Tijuana but needing to cross the border is hurting my income. And blood pressure. With that sort of bottom line it ain't worth it. This mode of life is for the Mexicans. Next up: Adios to Tijuana.

Sweet home Indiana. (Cover your mouth!)

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There are times I miss Indiana. As a rule, it is during winter season; but the new worthy exception to that rule is a little thing called MERS. Yikes!

HANDICAP ONLY ~ Border crossing (San Ysidro)

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Imagine: You are in standing traffic on a hot, hot day and surrounded by an indefatigable stream of beggars - physically deformed humans, small dirty children, worn mothers, old people, musicians, drunkards - all, ostensibly, selling you stuff to which you make a point of saying no  while trying not to say yes to the equally plentiful legitimate vendors selling ice cream, cold drinks including beer, sweet smelling hot gorditas right off the grill -- and you are stuck in this traffic jam for the next foreseeable hour. At least. More than once you glance over at the drivers around you and say to yourself, I wish I was in a car. Then I'd be there already.

The San Ysidro border crossing, notorious for being America's - if not one of the world's - busiest and most congested ports of entry, has become moreso in the past ten days. The reason being, since two weeks ago, U.S. Border Control took the step of limiting one of their four designated pedestrian lanes to handicap persons only. Even the armchair traveler can well imagine how fewer handicapped persons than non-handicapped persons pass through any sphere of public facilities let alone border crossings. If you guessed the HANDICAP ONLY lane is virtually empty, you are right. If you can guess why American border patrol took this move, I would love to hear it -- because they, the border control, are not forthcoming.*

Until roughly two weeks ago there were four designated lanes: 

1. Handicap/Bus passengers (e.g., people traveling on Greyhound wherein they unboard with all of their belongings, pass through Immigration and then, if not detained, reboard on the other side) 
2. General Public (passport holders)
3. Ready Lane (holders of special identification cards for "rapid" passage such as Mexican citizens who commute daily for work or Americans with passport cards) 
4. Travelers possessing Sentri cards. 

With the elimination of the shared line for charter bus passengers those travelers no longer unboard near the front of the border crossing but, rather, at the back -- like everyone else. As a result the waiting line, which though typically long was infrequently standstill, is now visibly longer round the clock and significantly much, much slower -- round the clock. 

I heard the horror stories of crossing into southern California from Tijuana but, personally and irregardless of the hour I went to the border crossing, I never waited more than fifty minutes to pass through be it on foot or bus. What once consumed an hour - maximum - now drags on for around three hours or more. By some impersonal entity's measure this move from "not so bad" to worse is progress; but not for those of us who stand waiting in line.

the time it takes me to walk through the border crossing from Tijuana a motorist could drive from Los Angeles to southern San Diego

Blake R. is a young American who moved to Tijuana two years ago for the affordable living. He works in a bar in San Diego. He recognizes the change in crossing into San Ysidro. His boss is lenient with minor tardiness too because, like Blake, he also is an expat living in Tijuana. "This is insane! We should've been up at the gate by now," he says, referring to  the demarcation of U.S. soil. He's on his third cigarette since we've been chatting in line. "Before, we were talking and laughing. Now look how quiet everyone is." The change was noticeable. "I feel tired and I haven't done anything...and still got to go to work. This [expletive] sucks! And I have to do this every day...." 

He and so many others. Health and transportation industries now recognize the reality of commuter stress. The US Census Bureau gathers working adults commute an average of 25 minutes each way (not bad, right?) with extreme commutes in the definitive ballpark of 90 minutes upwards. The foot crossing at San Ysidro takes more than twice the time of extreme commute. (Does this warrant an 'extreme, extreme commute' definition?) To put it in perspective, for the time it takes me to walk through the border crossing from Tijuana into California, a motorist could drive from Valporaiso University in Valporaiso, Indiana, to Indiana University in Bloomington in roughly three hours; or, say, from Los Angeles to southern San Diego. According to a psychology study by Stephanie Lynne Morrow the hassle of daily commuting can seem harmless enough (after all not everyone can work from home) but the "impact of chronic exposure to minor stressors over time can be quite deleterious to well-being." She goes on to quote other research that suggests daily hassles "may be even more relevant than actue, dramatic life events in relating to physical and psychological health."

Thankfully my crossing is not a daily one. But I have missed two work assignments owing to the bureaucracy of hurry up-and-wait. Nothing sticks in your crawl like being prepared and making sure every t is crossed and i, dotted just to then be handed another form to be filled out in triplicate. Maria, Blake and I are in our 20s and 30s. Many people in line are much older. I tried asking some of the Mexican elderly near me but they weren't too forthcoming. "Ridiculo" and "gobierno!" was the general verdict as they wagged their heads in dismay. 

In addition to the eeking foot traffic, the border agency - and it is heavily manned - operates only one of their two X-ray machines for all bags, irregardless of size, passing into the United States. As a result the four designated lanes eventually merge into one as each person holding anything must wait his turn to place the bag/suitcase/purse/package on the conveyor belt while four agents sit and watch the screen on the opposite side of the machine. It is hard to comprehend the improvement accomplished in taking more time to complete a task. Then again, maybe, like Blake, I am just too tired to think about. 

*I explained to a few of the idle-looking agents that I was writing a travel piece and, naturally, wanted to submit accurate information for print but none of them imparted anything other than the obvious: there was no more special lane for bus travelers.

The cyclical sickness of trusting coyotes

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Seems to me if you can scratch together thousands of dollars you can improve your lot where you are -- unless you're running from the mob or gov't or some organization bent on killing you. Otherwise, with that much money, one can develop a business (with oodles of marketing/public relations frills), go to college or take correspondence courses, hire private tutors, or, at the very least, move his ass to a better part of town -- anything but give it away to human traffickers to sneak him into AMERICA so that one can live the good life of being a human pack mule and indentured servant. 

Latin Americans risk life to get to USA to live the "American dream." Can anyone say stupid?

Latin America makes a helluva lot of noise against capitalism yet Latin Americans risk life, family estrangement and sanity to get to USA to live the "American dream" which is, apparently, rooted in capitalism. Can anyone say stupid or full of shit? Because that is just what it is when, time and again, these people put their faith and cough up THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS into the hands of scumbags who they know to be dishonest, ruthless, cold-hearted.

But America/Americans are the bad guys? Bitch, please. 
Sad, pitiful, insane, and pathetic come to mind. This running to America via human smugglers amounts to a cyclical sickness.

(Another round of illegal immigrants raided in Texas)

I get the for-a-better-life argument; what I don't get is why that argument is only plausible to U.S. soil. And why, upon settling in America, do these desperate peoples refuse to acclimate, to become Americanized, to leave their pasts, which they so earnestly run from, behind rather than cluster and morph into a hyphenated and pseudo America? Where are the shouts of Viva America! Instead, local gov'ts and schools, in the name of multiculturalism, patronize Independence Days for this and that sovereign nation. And, years later, Juan Carlos still pays arbitrary interest to the coyotes (human smugglers) who made his American slavery a reality. And he still can't speak English. Viva...!   

What Boston Marathon bombing?

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A year since the Boston Marathon bombing?
Wow, really? It does not feel like 365 days have gone by. When the bombing happened I was on the other side of the nation in Los Angeles. In fact, I was walking around Hollywood. As I passed the open door of one or two bars I caught that the televisions were broadcasting BREAKING NEWS having something to do with Boston. It didn't seem to be a big deal, though...there was no cluster of people riveted to the newscast. The ticker tape on the CNN building on Sunset Blvd also left much to be known. 

Maybe, I figured, a Kennedy died. 

Some time later back at the hostel I learned what all the excitement was about; only, I have to admit, there was no excitement in the overly large city on the West coast. Not one person did I overhear chatting about the terrible finale of the race. There were no exclamations of "Oh my God!" "Can you believe it!" or "Another terrorist attack" The folks in L.A. were blissfully unaware (or desensitized, but that seems sadly cynical even for dog-eat-dog L.A.)
As the manhunt took weight so, too, were people's attention arrested. Or, at least, coverage of it dominated the news shows and blogosphere. That's one thing news networks and Hollywood have in common: If the show draws an audience, they'll just keep banging away at it. 

@TWPTilden

Spring Break expose (VIDEO)

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If you have ever been to Spring Break, then you might enjoy this expose presented by Sean Hannity via Jon Stewart:

(VIDEO)

Los Angeles is expensive

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L.A. living is much too expensive. I guess it is doable if either you're raking in the big bucks (entertainment industry) or you're raking someone's lawn (illegals) but for those in-between like me Life, to quote the coffee mug, is a bitch. Also, it was rare that any one returned your queries about their housing ads. Wtf?! Flaky, flaky.... Evidently loads of people can dig it but as far as I'm concerned living in Los Angeles is for the birds. Granted, L.A. County is big enough so that if you move four hours to the other side it may - may - be as affordable and different as night and day.

Cigarette Woman vs. Pot Belly (SAN FRANCISCO)

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I almost forgot to share this funny New Years Eve story:

I was downtown waiting on Market Street for the streetcar to take me uptown. I really like riding San Francisco's streetcars. They are so comfortable and cute; designed at a time when citizens were civilized and cute...so if I'm in no particular hurry I'll wait around for a streetcar over the 'regular' city buses. Very bright and sunny day it was, too. Some vulgar woman whose best days were decades (and several addictions) behind her was yapping nearby, talking to no one in particular but not exactly talking to herself either (and that's saying much for San Francisco!). Her face was made up enough to put John Wayne Gacy to shame and her vulgar mouth had the obligatory fag dangling from it. Frightful woman.

And Pot Belly meant business: he used both his hands. Whoomp! 

Along came a pot belly man squeezed inside of some youthful T-shirt. 
Evidently the two weirdos started an unfriendly exchange. Something to do with her cigarette. I gathered he was complaining about it being against the city ordinance - Californians can be so touchy - and she was complaining about his complaints. Then the barbs flew and Pot Belly got up to stomp off to more breathable pastures. "That's right you faggot!" Cigarette Woman screeched with grrrreat emphasis on the name. Well! The faggot did not like being called a faggot one bit - or, at least, being screamed one by a smoking tramp - and he spun round faster than I thought a fat man could and, unbeknownst to Cigarette Woman because the hag was dumb enough to turn her back to him, pushed the woman smack down into the street. And Pot Belly meant business: he used both his hands. Whoomp! "You bitch," he shouted. "Don't you talk to me that way!" Her fag flew to one side and she, to the other. At this she became that occasional specimen the 'offended lady'. Bitches are always an 'offended lady' on the occasions they don't get their way or get their comeuppance.      

I stood their and applauded. Really I did. It found it quite entertaining. Two male employees ran across the street. "Whoa, whoa! Man you can't push a woman in the street," they cried. "Police are out today," they cautioned. "They swooping out hard today. They swooping." "Well let 'em swoop," said Pot Belly. "She was in my face telling me all of this crap and then called me a faggot. I don't have to take this abuse! I'm not going to take that shit. And I'll tell you another thing: I don't go in for all of this political correct fascism eating away at our society."
Cigarette Woman was, all the while, steadily yapping and yapping and yapping, cursing empty threats. By this point even the two service workers who had come to her defense told her to shut-up. I don't know what hurt her more: losing the cigarette, meeting the ground, or breaking her cheap sunglasses. She at last shut up -- because she was on bus. I expect Pot Belly had a fabulous anecdote for his cocktail party. And my streetcar finally arrived.  

Witnessed a 'funny' street exchange lately?

Bum on CTA (CHICAGO)

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Back in the Middle West and, baby, it's cold outside!
Upon departing from L.A. on Virgin America - which has to be the gayest airlines going - the voice from the cockpit informed us that the current temperature in Chicago was "One." Brrrr.

I saw the following garbage heap on the Brown Line.
Would you believe there's a human being under there! Admittedly the subway was a heck of a lot warmer than the frigid outside. Maniacal giggling and mumbling emitted from beneath the beige part. And every new group of people that entered the car shot a startled look at the unbelievable sight and quickly headed the other way. I'm sure we all thought the same thing: Why haven't the police come and cleaned up this filth?!   

nobody wanted to be near the bum

Cooling off at public pool in Stuttgart

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While in Stuttgart I went to the public pool. Unlike the earlier post about the lake in Berlin, we had to pay an entrance fee of 4.50euros. It's sort of like a water park...just without all the slides and pool toys and unnecessary animation. And, unlike American water parks, the prices at the concession stands were very, very reasonable. The cost of French fries or Fanta (Germans love the stuff!) or hot dogs or ice creams were not jacked up at all. On the street an order of fries might cost 1.50 and at the pool it cost 2.50. Reasonable.

I think the pool was longer than Olympic size and, oh yeah, the views were gorgeous too!

 cakes from the side

  cakes from behind 

 

plenty of visions to leave a man blind

Hollywood, California (PICS)

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...Because there is also a Hollywood, Florida (so if you didn't know, then now you know).

 ain't all what it's

cracked up to be, folks

 the famous museum of incredible stuff!

and under the Pacific in...2018?