Saturday, October 31, 2015

JM - 9

I will always be mentally ill
                        taken advantage of
                        a loser
                        a cuckold
                        the son of DPs

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

JM - 8

My first real kiss occurred in 7th grade.  I say "real" because a decade earlier, my parents were friends with neighbors who had a girl a year younger than me.  The adults were forever posing us kissing each other (on the cheek) and taking pictures.

The kiss in 7th grade was my first hormone-driven one.  I can't remember how, but somehow I ended up double dating with the girl I had a super crush on, and another couple.  We went to the movies, which were then downtown.  I don't remember what was playing.

Om our way home, I kissed my date.  Nothing spectacular, more like a peck, but it was my first.  I was so elated, I literally felt like I was walking on Cloud 9 on my home.  There was a smile a mile wide plastered on my face.  I walked home thinking about the girl I'd just kissed.  It was pretty damned nice.

When I arrived home, I came upon a scene wherein my mother was in her bedclothes, passed out on the living room floor.  She was surround by a mess of pills I didn't recognize.

My dad was passed out at the kitchen table.

My mother wouldn't rouse and trying to wake up my father and getting some straight answers from him was almost impossible.  Not knowing what had gone down beforehand, I did the only thing I could do: I called for an ambulance.  They arrived and took mother to the ER where they pimped out her stomach.

The pills were some sort of over the counter diet pills.  They didn't think she had ingested enough to harm herself and that her lethargy was due mostly to alcohol.  They pumped out her stomach as a precaution.

The next day, my mom returned home with a friend from work.  Mom was smoking,  I had never seen her do that before.

That's the story of my first kiss.


"Van Halen - 'Runnin' With The Devil' (Official Music Video)"

Diamond Dave at his screeching best.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

JM - 7

My psychiatrist made me promise that before I'd do anything to hurt myself, I'd go the ER and tell them I'm suicidal.  Actually, at Wheaton Franciscan ER they'd probably unintentionally help me along.

What would happen is that they would "chapter" me.  Chapter refers to some chapter of a health or penal code or something.  It's like a mini commitment. The cops come and they take you to the nut ward where you can be held for up to three days against your will.  During that time, a judge is supposed to look at your case and decide what further actions, if any, are necessary.

Btw, the nut ward is this one:  You don't get well there; you get the hell out as soon as possible.

I don't know what they do with suicidal patients.  Probably drug the hell out of them.  I base that on the behavior of a guy I knew in AA who tried to kill himself.  He was already seeing a psychiatrist and on psych meds.  He didn't talk much, but when he did, it was always spot on and he'd have a little smile at the end.  When I saw him after the nut ward, he was the walking dead.  Totally zombied-out on heavy duty psych drugs. So, yeah, he wasn't trying to kill himself anymore, but I don't think he could do much of anything in that state.  It's like he'd have to be told when to sit down and when to stand up.

There's no fucking way I want to end up like that.  The lesson I take from this is to be sure you kill yourself.  During those times that I've felt the closest to killing myself, going to the ER is the last thing on my mind.  I just want it all to be over, now.  I don't want to be a part of it anymore.

After I sobered up, I was happiest in the landscape.  I loved to work planting trees, pruning shrubs, spreading mulch, etc.  Then my mother broke her hip and I took on the daily duties of her care.  No more landscape for me.  For years, I saw her daily, sometimes twice a day, took her to medical appointments, did her shopping and laundry, and, eventually, some meal prep.  I was filled with resentment that I was doing this rather than landscape work.  Slowly, surely, it twisted me until I broke.

As any child of an alcoholic will tell you, there are times when you, the child, must be the "parent" to your drunk parent.  I did that for two decades growing up, always on alert for problems.  Then, in my adult life, I end up babysitting the same woman again.  She wanted us to live together, but that would have resulted in God-knows-what.  I ended up with cataclysmic stomach problems because of my mental problems.  I felt that the only reason my mother had me was to cover her ass while drunk and/or old.  I was totally demoralized.  After my mother passed away, I looked back to see huge chunks of my life that were missing, taken by her.  When I looked ahead, it was bleak.

While "normal" people built their lives over the years, I chugged booze.  I accept responsibility for that.  No one poured it down my throat.  At the age of 42, I finally took alcohol recovery and AA seriously.  I sobered up and slowly started to build a life. I'm a "low bottom" alcoholic, so it took some time.  Later, that was "taken" from me by my mother's broken hip.

By the time the smoke cleared, everyone was dead except for me.  I wish I had gone, too.

Two things keep me from killing myself today: my cat and my life insurance policy.  I couldn't bear to see Charlie go unless it was to a very loving home.

The other thing that keeps me from offing myself is my life insurance policy.  Over two decades ago, after I sobered up, I did the "responsible thing" and got life insurance.  It paid out $5000, unless there was a suicide in the first year.  20-year term.  Last year, the insurance company reminded me that the term of my policy would expire in a year.  They then offered a $10,000, 20-year term policy for one dollar more per monthly premiums.  I took it.

I don't know anything about the insurance business, but I assumed they'd attach a rider to the original policy to make it worth $10,000. Which they did,  however, they then wrote a whole new policy when the first policy expired.  The policy has two stipulations: the policy won't pay if there is suicide or an "accident" in the first two years.  Wtf.

So, I have to survive till November of next year for the policy to pay out if I kill myself.  I think maybe after the elections and holiday season would be a good time.  Those searingly cold days with 6 hours of sunlight.  Then, that would be a good time.

"Former Park 6 to be razed"

From The Journal

6 hours ago  • 
"RACINE — The wrecking ball awaits the former Park 6 building that was at the heart of the recently settled lawsuit against the city.

"The vacant three-story structure at 500 Sixth St. is owned by Talmer Bank. The Michigan-based bank acquired the building last September from former owners Jim and Lisa Spodick during their personal bankruptcy.

"When the building was constructed in 1915, it was named the Klinkert Building and still bears that name. It was the home of Grant Furniture Co., a store that stayed in business until 1974, according to the Racine Heritage Museum.

"The building last housed the Park 6 nightclub. After many police calls and incidents at the bar over an extended period of time, the city shut it down.

"Partly in response to that action, Park 6’s former owner Thomas Holmes and six other minority plaintiffs sued in federal district court. Their suit accused Mayor John Dickert and more than 15 other defendants of a plot to force minority bar owners out of business and give their liquor licenses to white bar owners.

"The 18-month legal battle ended earlier this month when the city settled for $1.3 million — with no admission of wrongdoing, and the vast majority of the insurance-funded payout going to the plaintiffs’ lawyers."

Read more:

Friday, October 23, 2015

"Does High IQ Increase the Risk of Depression and Mental Disorders?"

Credit -

"Blame it on movies or books, but we have fallen into the habit of stereotyping. Popular culture portrays highly intelligent men and women as moody, secretive people who have so much going on in their minds that they are mentally always on the edge. There is probably a point here because psychiatrists are tinkering with the idea of a connection between high intelligence and depression and mental illness.

"The super-brainy computer programmer, the scientist, or the nerdy professor is supposed to be a social misfit. He turns up at parties with unkempt hair and disheveled attire and spends the evening hunched up in a corner. The brilliant artist is a recluse with dark moods. When he is not creating masterpieces on canvas or the piano, he is cradling the bottle and spewing rage all around. Are these false preconceptions, or is there some truth to the stereotype?"

Read more:

Broken pieces

Broken pieces,
All that's left of me,
Aren't enough,
Aren't even close.


Thursday, October 22, 2015

"The Pretenders - 'Thin Line Between Love And Hate' (Digital Remaster - 1080p)"

"the banana splits adventure hour (original intro)"

This is the song we drunkenly sang as we danced down the halls of the Wisconsin Hotel during our high school basketball playoffs in Milwaukee in 1969.  I missed one game because I was puking my guts out (yes, even then), but got to see the rest and our team go undefeated.  Of course, all of this became possible when St. Cat's stole Jim Chones from Park.

"'Narcos' - Opening Credits - Netflix [HD]"

I got hooked on this series and have seen all episodes so far. I especially enjoy the opening song, above, by Rodrigo Amarante.

JM - 5

At our house, the Saturday Night Fights were'nt just on TV.  My parents got drunk and fought on Saturday night.  Actually, any time both of them were drunk there was the possibility of a fight, but Saturday almost guaranteed it.  They had all day to liquor up, and a day to recover.

It usually ended up with my father seated at his place at the kitchen table while my mother zoomed in and out of the room spewing invective.  Dad would eventually lean forward and cradle his head in his arms, if he was allowed to.  As often as not, my father would weep.  No wail or the gnashing of teeth, but just a little trembling of the head in the arms.

It was my understanding that my father was considered a mama's boy back in the old country.  His relationship with his mother ran deep.

Whenever my drunken mother saw my drunken father weeping at the table, she started right in with the mama's boy bullshit.  "Why are you crying, little boy?  Do you miss your mommy?" my mother would sneer at my father.  It was brutal, and my father's only reply was, "No cry.  I no cry," when it was obvious that he was crying.

The fighting would continue until they both ran out of steam, my mother in her bedclothes and bed, asleep, and my father passed out at the kitchen table.

Funny thing is, I cry for my mother every night now.      

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Monday, October 19, 2015

JM - 4

My then-wife and I lived in Chicago during the entire decade of the 1980's. We'd moved there from Milwaukee when she was offered a full time job at a greeting card company. She'd been doing freelance work for them for years. Interestingly, their offer arrived on the same day that I was laid off from my job in the J.C. Penney Midwestern Catalog Distribution Warehouse, or whatever it's called. It's way the hell out on Burleigh.

I got home and said to my wife, "There's something I have to tell you." She said, "There's something I have to tell you, too." "No," I said, "Mine is very important. I was laid off today." She just smiled and smiled. "What the fuck?" I thought. She announced that the greeting card company had offered her a full time job, and even moving expenses.

We celebrated that night.

A few years later, my wife said she couldn't stand her job anymore and she was going to quit and see what kind of freelance money she could make.

For me, that meant: batter up!

I answered an ad in one of those neighborhood newspapers for an assistant manager at a muffler shop.  I got the job.  It was way the hell out west, but I rode the bus every day, Monday through Saturday, until I saved up enough for a beat up Mercury Montego.

Once I got promoted to manager (by turning in my thieving boss), things got crazy.

My top technician, Mike, was also a coke dealer.  He fed me coke, I fed him jobs.

I was very proud of our shop.  We were on disputed gang turf: Latin Kings vs. Latin Lovers.  The headquarters for the local police district, Shakespeare District (love it), was nearby. For me, it was a game of keeping all three happy. If you kept the gangbangers happy, then you reduce the risk of attack or robbery from them.  If you give the cops a really good deal, they might spend more time watching out for your shop. (And you.  More on that some other time.)

The job taxed all of my facilities, and I loved it.  Mostly it was putting out fires, running from one problem to the next and solving them.  My childhood of putting out mom and dad's fires made me a good fit for the job.

I truly bonded with the job and the place.  It was an old building, made of cement blocks.  Most auto repair facilities today have rows of service bays emanating from the office.  In our old style building, there were large overhead doors at the front and back of the shop.  They were electrically controlled.  Cars were driven into the shop and then onto one of the vehicle lifts angling off at 45% degrees,  There was a waiting room and office up front.

My assistant manager opened the shop and left at 4 pm.  I arrived at 10 am and stayed till closing and all the paperwork was done.  Most of our trade was in cash.  The Puerto Ricans weren't hot on credit cards  We didn't do night deposits because the neighborhood was too risky.  I'd be mugged the moment I left the shop. Instead, we made drops into a Brinks safe which they emptied three times a week.

One morning my assistant manager called me at home at 8 am, shop opening time.  He asked me if "we had some sort of construction going on in the rear of the shop."  There were a few cement blocks knocked out next to the steel door/emergency exit.

"Al," I said, "we've been robbed.  Call the police.  I'll be right over."

They didn't get away with much: the small TV and microwave from the backroom, an "electric impact gun," and a few other things.  None of the guys' toolboxes were tampered with.  I thought that odd.  That's the first place I'd go if I was robbing the shop.

The owner and I were both "miffed" with the alarm company.  Almost every night a big rig would roll by the shop and the damn sensors in the windows would go off.  The alarm company would call me.  I'd go to the shop and there would be nothing wrong.  This happened dozens of times.  But here we had a situation where individuals unknown had knocked in cement blocks and walked all over the shop and the alarm never went off.  The owner fired them and got a new company.

I went up to Mike and told him to find out who did it, if it was a local job.  Mike knew everybody in the neighborhood.  Being a coke dealer got him around.

One day I came to work and Mike had to talk to me right away.  We stepped outside, next to the building.  Mike said he'd found out that one of the neighborhood guys and couple of bangers were parked in our lot that night, smoking God knows what. The kid wanted into the gang, so the bangers told him to break into our shop.  He drove his car into the steel emergency door, intending to knock it down.  Instead, the cement blocks gave way.

Best of all, Mike said, is the car is right there, next to the shop.  It was a blue Grand Am.  Beat up.  I walked around to the front and the nose was punched in.  The car didn't have any rear window glass.

Ironically, one of my mechanics owned a blue Grand Am, about the same year as the burglary car.  His was souped up and lovingly cared for.  He could lay rubber for the length of the shop.

I thanked Mike for the information and went back to work.  That weekend, on Sunday afternoon, I sat out on our apartment's balcony drinking heavily.  I think it was vodka and 7-up at the time.  The more I drank, the angrier I became.  I was infuriated that anyone would dare to hit our shop, especially someone from the neighborhood.

A lot of things happened in the shop's parking lot at night.  We didn't care so long as it was cleared by opening time.  I myself had parked there one night when I had proposed doing some coke to a friend.  I meant snort it, but he was already tying off.  I told him never again.  I didn't want to be around IV drug use.

Back to that Sunday afternoon, I got quite blitzed and pissed.  I wanted to send out a message to the neighborhood that we weren't to be fucked with.  I got up and walked through the house to the front door without saying a word to my wife.  I went out to the neighborhood convenience store and bought a plastic gasoline container and a gallon of gas.  I drove to the shop and parked in front, with the engine running.  It was a sunny mid-afternoon and I remember seeing a girl sitting on the fire hydrant across the street.  I approached the Grand Am that had been used to break into the shop.  I took the cap off of the gallon of gasoline and threw it through the nonexistent rear window.  Then I lit a book of matches and threw them in.

I turned around to return to my car and I could see that the girl from the fire hydrant was now running down the block.  I got in my car and left.

See also:

" Happy Halloween"

From LiveLeak:

Trick or treat!

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Why I didn't have kids.


so I have to work late it is an emergency it is always an emergency everything is always forever an emergency it has to be done right now it has to be done it is the most important thing on the face of the earth we’re all going to die and crumble to dust but this is more important always so I’m late and don’t make my regular AA meeting OK I go to the library instead where there’s this new poetry thing in session now every other week they’re reading poems and stuff I guess so I walk there to the library and check this out and it is mostly young kids getting up there pretty gutsy and reading their stuff and generally having a good time and a few older ones too get up and strut their stuff it is all pretty good I guess and then it’s over and here I am in the library so why not check out the shelves the literature see what stuff is up there ey and I look and see and the quick take is that it is the same old same old nothing effing new and I end up taking home some Buk and some Kerouac big surprise I walk home thinking at least the reading got me thinking the trees streetside in the cold dark look haunted I can tell most of them by genus and species now what a miracle Ginkgo biloba, Crataegus something or the other some sort of hawthorn shit if I know the boot heels click and clack past the funeral home and I’m walking home with books in hand for probably the first time in a few years but will I read them do I care do I know on and on it goes



your report the weather I find so true
the suicidal sunshine in sky lethal blue
goddamn bird chirping treed in revolt
greenery and shrubbery at my throat
well scrubbed smiles dotting the streets
healthy babies wealthy maybes happy tax cheats

circa 1998

She Was Walking Her Dog

She was walking her dog when she met him. 
Her dog liked him. 
They fell in love and married.

After her dog died, things didn’t seem the same. 
Their relationship started to deteriorate. 
He drank. 
She saw a counselor.
He drank more.
It ended badly, with much reproach and recrimination.
She got another dog and remarried. 
He got a cat and drank himself to death.

3/26/2012 3:04 AM 


sit sit sit here a thousand times
sit here
I’m reading some good poetry again
the first time in years
decades maybe I dunno I was so drunk
good poetry sit sit
and now again finally again now I finally want to write
sit sit sit at the typewriter
no it’s the nineties
no it’s not it’s the new millennium
I’m sober and I want to write again
eagerly finally finally again
I’m sober in the next century and I’ve forgotten how to write
forgotten what I was going to say
blacked out for twenty years
or so
and now I sit sit reading some really good poetry again
and I
and I sit at the word processor the computer
and I sit sit sit
the bright white screen throbbing
I cannot remember what I was going to write
I was so drunk
so long
so long ago
I was sitting
sit sit sitting
I sit sit thinking of what I forgot to say


Shingles Selfie

See that shit near my armpit?  That wraps around to my back. but there's no one else here to take a back photo but me and Charlie.  I tried a few times and gave up.  The shit follows neural pathways.  If you touch it, it hurts like hell. Wearing clothing is painful.

20 % of shingles sufferers suffer permanent nerve damage from the disease.  And it can reappear, in the same or different locations.  I was told today that triggers include a low immune system (not that I'm aware of) and stress.  Bingo!  Stress is coming out of every orifice of my body.  If they could convert stress to electricity, I could probably light up a mid-sized town.

I remember asking my physician about the shingles vaccine last year.  He didn't seem too enthused.  Check out this site:  Even the CDC admits that the shingles vaccine is only about 60% effective.

So, we'll see how this progresses and take it from there.  Hopefully I got on the anti-viral soon enough.  Whatever, once I'm healthy again, I think I'll get the shingles shot if my insurance covers it.  I heard it's expensive.  But if there's anything I can do to avoid a repeat of this, I'm going for it.

I hear it can take a long, long time for shingles to heal.  I don't know if I have that much time left.

Thursday, October 15, 2015


From Pattern or Practice:

Posted: October 13, 2015 in The Film

"While there is a lot of reading, you as a reader can go behind the scenes and feel the clumsily staging of the Racine Mayor, the probing of the attorneys as they seek out the racketeering that was included in the complaint. The puzzle pieces begin to fit together winding thru the other depositions. After reading these you will see why they settled."
Read more:

JM - 3

Poverty grinds a person down, like bone on bone, grind, grind, grind, dust.  In my life, my "wealth" has been a roller coaster ride.  I believe that children learn money skills from their parents, and mine weren't very good.  They spent as much money, if not more, on booze than on their children.

Don't get me wrong.  I never lacked necessities growing up, and I didn't consider us poor.  My father was a hell of a machinist and brought home the bacon (and the booze).  When things got tough, mom would get a job to help out.  Jobs were plentiful then.  Mom worked as a cook and waitress at "Whitey's," long gone.  She also worked at Rainfair, also long gone.  And Eisendrath Tannery, also long gone.  Then she worked in the laundry at the old St. Mary's hospital, also long gone.  I also worked there part-time while in college.

I couldn't have everything I wanted as a child (like a race car), but there was always something to eat, clothes to wear, etc., etc.

In my adult life, I've walked the street gutters of Austin, TX, looking for cigarette butts while my wife would scour the other side.  When we were done, I got the straight tobacco and she got the mentholated.

I've also lived comfortably at times like when I managed a muffler and brake shop in Chicago.  I received a base salary plus commission.  I was making $40-$45K a year there. My wife's free lance work also brought in a couple thousand a year. This was in the late 1980's, so we were doing well.  My boss called me a "schmuck" for not buying a house. but I could never see further than the end of the day when I could go to Bunky's, a neighborhood bar, and get hammered.

So my income has gone up and down over the years.  While I didn't intend to retire a millionaire, I also didn't intend for this mess. If everything in my budget would just hold their costs, I might come out with enough to live on and pay off debts.  But something always happens.  The truck's brake pedal drops to the floor, so I borrow so that I can get it fixed.  Always something, always something.  Oops, forgot to budget for the $75 renewal fee for my truck's registration.  It looks like my truck and apartment insurance premiums might remain the same in the coming year, but everything else will go up.  Healthcare will be the worst.  Costs will rise considerably, I believe.

I find borrowing money demeaning.  I'm pretty sure that's due to my strong work ethic.  There was always a job available somewhere in Racine so I didn't have debts.  That's not true anymore.  Nor am I the man I was even ten years ago.  Getting old is a bitch.  I can't stand for long periods of time due to the arthritis in my hips and poor circulation in my left leg.  I get winded running up one flight of stairs.  My back snaps, crackles, and pops.  To top it off, I can't see a damn thing unless I get my face in it.  Then there's my stomach troubles . . .

I wonder how many jobs, given those parameters, you can find today.  Don't bother looking, I already have.  The answer is zero.  Every year, spring through autumn, 1 hear and smell the landscaping that I gave up to take care of mom.  In my mind, there never was a question about sacrificing self for my mother, who gave me life.  Still, every spring, landscaping beckons to me.  I see, hear, and smell it, but those days are gone for me.  Betrayed by my body.

So, I live on a fixed income in an un-fixed world.  I'll get a slight increase, maybe, for next year.  Whatever I do get, if anything, will be more than offset by the rise in prices of everything else.  I've been losing ground for years.  It's been slow and I plugged a lot of leaks with credit cards.  Now I'm in the middle of a bankruptcy.  This will "disappear" those credit card bills, but I start losing ground again from day one after the bankruptcy.  It's also very expensive to go bankrupt.  It's inane.  If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't go bankrupt.  So, more borrowing.  More staring at the ground while speaking to someone.  It just makes me feel more worthless, more of a piece of shit.  I'll be in debt for years because of my bankruptcy.  WTF?  Nothing makes sense anymore.

Peter Francis Geraci, the patron saint of bankruptcy, said he got into the business after witnessing the aftermath of a man blowing his brains out over money problems.  It's not that uncommon.  What are you supposed to do when you are squeezed from all sides?

That's what poverty is: pressure.  How much pressure can you stand?    

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

"'Mommy, Am I Gonna Die?': Cop Aims For Dog, Shoots 4 Year Old, After Injured Mom Calls 911

Tyler Durden's picture

As The Columbus Dispatch reports, Andrea also revealed that the cop never apologized or asked if Ava was okay and immediately left after shooting her.
A Columbus police officer accidentally wounded a 4-year-old girl in Whitehall on Friday when he fired at a charging dog, police said.

A neighbor and the girl’s uncle identified her as Ava Ellis, who was taken to Nationwide Children’s Hospital, where police said she was in stable condition.

The officer was at a house in the 4100 block of Chandler Drive investigating a hit-and-run case about 3:10 p.m., Columbus police spokeswoman Denise Alex-Bouzounis said.

As the officer was walking from the home to his patrol car, a woman a few houses away called out to him, saying her sister and the girl’s mother, Andrea Ellis, had cut herself.

The officer was at the doorway when a dog charged at him, Alex-Bouzounis said.

The officer fired once, missing the animal but striking the girl in the right leg. It was unclear whether the girl was hit directly or by a ricochet. The officer has not been identified.
Neighbors say the officer walked back to his patrol car after the shooting.
“He seemed a little disoriented, like he was really bothered,” said Norman Jones, who called the police after hearing the shot. Columbus and Whitehall police arrived at the scene shortly afterward.

“Mommy, am I gonna die?” four-year-old Ava Ellis asked her mother.
The family created a Facebook page for Ava.

As Salon reports, her mother Andrea wrote her account of the incident in a post. She names the police officer who shot her child, Jonathan Thomas, and says that, as soon as he saw the dog, who was eight to 10 feet away from him, he fired — in the direction of her eight-year-old niece and Ava.

Read more:

What's the deal with cops and dogs lately?

"Wisconsin 3rd in number of minors recovered as part of trafficking operation"

From JSOnline:

By Breann Schossow

"Wisconsin tied for third in the nation in the total number of underage trafficking victims recovered as part of a nationwide human trafficking operation, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"The FBI announced the results Tuesday of the operation that was conducted throughout the country last week. In Wisconsin, nine underage victims were recovered and 11 pimps arrested, according to a news release. More than 50 adults were also recovered.

"The total results of the operation in Wisconsin include:

"■ Racine: 20 adults recovered, one trafficker arrested."

Read more:

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

"Thursday Oct. 15th - Stop Bullying Rally"

From RacineUncovered:

Filed under: Community Calendar,Local News |

"On Thursday October 15th the Racine Family YMCA P.R.E.P is holding a Stop Bully Rally 'Stand up, Speak Out.' It is being held at the Martin Luther King Center 1134 Martin Luther King Drive, Racine from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m."

 Read more:

Good. I hate bullies.  I'm so glad that this 'cause' came to light.  Bullying can leave psychological/emotional scars that follow a person throughout their life.

"Another strip club seeks to open in downtown Milwaukee"

From JSOnline:

So how come Milwaukee's downtown is booming and ours has for rent and sale signs? 


From Racine County Corruption:

"A five thousand dollar reward has been offered by the Kenosha County Sheriff’s department for information leading to the arrest of Andrew Obregon.

"During the last few weeks, Mr. Obregon has proven to be elusive by avoiding capture.  Both the Racine and Kenosha Sheriff’s departments have failed to arrest him, slipping thru their fingers like buttered corn.

"Several residents have offered to help the impaired law enforcement community, including the use of a drone to scout the tall cornfields.
"Grand Theft AutoRacine and Kenosha style!"

"The Racine and Kenosha Sheriff Departments have placed a high priority on arresting Town of Brighton resident criminal Andrew Obregon.

"During the month of October, Obregon has eluded local authorities on high speed chases in both counties numerous times, allegedly in stolen vehicles.

"Obregon's intimate knowledge of Racine and Kenosha's streets and off road dirt trails have played an important role of eluding the pursuing police.
It appears plenty of people have been rendering aid to Mr. Obregon during his run.

"Despite the full focus of the sheriff's department's personnel, including the use of K-9's and helicopters, Obregon has successfully avoided capture.

"Mr Obregon has developed a following the likes of the infamous "Run Bambi Run" Lawrencia Bembenek.

"Mr. Obregon is wanted for questioning in the homicide of Tywon Anderson.

"Tywon Anderson was acquainted with Obregon and reported missing on Sept. 19th., found dead in a cornfield off of Hwy A in Kenosha County.


"Unconfirmed reports have been circulating that Obregon may have been involved in the death of  Fox Lake 
police officer
 Lt. Joseph Gliniewicz ,
who last reported 
was pursuing three suspicious suspects before he was found dead by fellow officers of gunshot wounds by the officer's own gun. 

"If you see Mr. Obregon, inform him that both the Racine and Kenosha Sheriff's Offices wishes to give him a ride to the........."

Monday, October 12, 2015

JM - 2

This Friday past was National Depression Screening Day.  I marked it with a post on the JTI,  , containing a link to the full story on the Journal Times site.  I did quote a snatch of the article: "'It feels sad every day,' said Todd. He battled depression for 18 months before he finally got help."

I suspect that most people consider that to be depression: "feeling sad" all of the time.  Maybe it is, and I'm not doubting Todd Hopkins' diagnosis.  Like I said, maybe this is what "depression" is to other people.  Unfortunately, I'm not that lucky.  My depression is aggressive and unforgiving.  It's trying to kill me.

I was sick with gastrointestinal problems for over three years.  I lost 30 lbs.  My gastroenterologist examined my GI track from top to bottom. I received an endoscopy, a colonoscopy, and CT scans (with the nasty tasting dye) of the middle of the GI tract where they can't see with the other tests.

After all tests were in, my gastroenterologist said, "There's no organic cause for your problems.  They must be psychological, probably your depression."  I felt utterly defeated.  This was during a time when I wasn't seeing a psychiatrist.  When I asked the doctor to recommend a psychiatrist, he demurred, saying that he knows psychiatrists but he doesn't know if they're any good.

My puking and diarrhea continued.  "Luckily," my sister's husband died a few years earlier and now she was more available to take care of mom.  This was a big step.  My sister hated my mother.  Always had.  But she would be civil towards mom, most of the time.  I saw mom almost every day for years and I was the one who promised to keep her out of the nursing home for as long as possible, but my stomach problems were interfering.  My sister had wanted to put mom in a "home" as soon as mom broke her hip.

I had continued the meds I was on from my first psychiatrist by having my primary care physician prescribe them.   I remember my primary care doctor once saying, "Don't be surprised if you need a psychiatrist again."  Luckily, I found one not too far away from where I lived and I started seeing her.  She's a psychiatric nurse practitioner.   

At the first appointment, they give you and the psychiatrist an hour to get to know each other.  Subsequent visits are 20 minutes each.  At the end of the first appointment, my psychiatrist listed my three major diagnoses as Major Depressive Disorder (Clinical Depression), Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and a "touch" of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  The exact same three my previous psychiatrist had diagnosed me with. However, she was much more willing to change and rearrange my medications.  

My depression makes me loathe myself, makes me forever remorseful for fucking up my life, makes me hate myself.  There's a broken record in my brain that constantly repeats, "You're a piece of shit, you're a piece of shit, you're a piece of shit, . . ."  It's there when I wake up and when I go to sleep.  It never stops, never.  

My depression attacks me in many ways, but some of the symptoms have been reduced greatly, and others eliminated completely.  I don't know whether to credit  my meds, but my anger level has dropped dramatically.  My psychiatrist says depression is hatred turned inwards.  Sometimes, it gets turned outward.  That happened with me a lot, especially in the form of road rage.  I was wiling to fight anyone for any reason.  God, what a lunatic old man.  (Btw, that's the title, "old man," that most of my "enemies" would address me by.)  

My psychiatrist and I worked on knocking down some of these symptoms. She doubled my dosage of Buspar, and scripted me one-and-a-half times Lexapro's supposed therapeutic dosage.   She added Seroquel to my regimen and the results appeared quickly.  I was less anxious and far, far less likely to start a fight with you.

I used to hang out of the window screaming at cars.  Now, I might curse them under my breath, but fuckit, it's only traffic.

My  depression is forever finding ways to attack me.  For the past month, I have started to have some urgency issues with my urination.  I had an appointment last week with my  primary care doctor and I told him about it.  He said as we get older, sometimes our bladder spasmsThey're gonna run "tests."  God, they love their tests.  Anyway, I get home and for the ret of the day there's no urgency problem.  Since then, I've had a little, but I think just hearing that it's probably normal was enough to end the constant pees.  

Do you have any idea of how to get proper healthcare when your subconscious can and will decoy you with some sort of suffering?  How much self-hate does it take before something explodes?  I have no idea what my body will do.  It's insane.  I'm insane.

"You're a piece of shit, you're a piece of shit, you're a piece of shit, . . ."        

Saturday, October 10, 2015


From Racine Community Media:


How appropriate for National Depression Screening Day.

JM - 1

My buddy is on me to start writing, serious writing. He says I should write a book. I don't know how to write a book. So, I thought maybe some blogs/journals/stream-of-consciousness might be the way to go. I mean, to get into a groove for writing.

I don't see myself ever siting down and writing an outline of a book before I write it.  I have no idea where my writing will go.  I have no idea of a lot of things.

Kerouac wrote On the Road in three speed-infested weeks.

Bukowski wrote Post Office, his first novel, in a weekend.

I have no idea how they did it.

I think the internet has shortened the attention span of my already damaged brain.  I can't stay on one subject for long, and I'm always seeking a video hook.

I learned in school in the time before the internet, before personal computers.  You learned in class and you learned by paying attention, reading your books, and doing your assignments.  I went to Catholic elementary and high schools.  I earned a BA in English from UW - Parkside.  The education I received appears light years ahead of what I see today.  I know there's plenty of great kids who work hard to get their grades, and I know there's plenty of kids that don't give a damn.  They get pushed along just because they're taking up space.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

"Misread License Plate Leads to Officer-Involved Shooting"

From LiveLeak:

"Fairfield, IA - Two officers discharged their weapons at a car occupied by two teens on June 2, 2015. DashCam footage, just released shows the vehicle pursuit that led up to the officer-involved shooting.

"The pursuit began when Officer Kathryn Blumhagen misread a license plate. Due to the error, Officer Blumhagen initially believed that the plates did not match the car.

"According to Fairfield Police Department’s Pursuit Policy, the pursuit should have never happened.

"'Procedure: Vehicle pursuit is justified only when the officer knows he has reasonable grounds to believe the suspect is attempting to evade apprehension and the suspect, if allowed to escape, may present a danger to human life or cause serious injury to other people.'

"However, Fairfield Police Chief Dave Thomas stands behind his officers’ decision to pursue the vehicle despite the portions of the pursuit policy The Post quoted during the interview.

"'We just didn’t know if there was a felony involved, or what was going on. Public safety is paramount. Quite frankly, [officers] weren’t sure what they had. Every law enforcement office in the country struggles with this, [the officers] were well within our policies. You are reading from one policy and only one policy and our general operating procedures say that these are general guidelines and not strict policies,' said Chief Thomas.

"However, the Fairfield Police Department’s Pursuit Policy begins with the following statements.

"PURPOSE: To establish guidelines and responsibilities for vehicle pursuits requiring emergency operation of Fairfield Police Department vehicles.

"POLICY: Emergency operations of police department vehicles shall be conducted in strict accordance with existing statutes, rules and procedures."


"Cyndi Lauper - 'Money Changes Everything'"

"In new statement, city calls settlement ‘hard fought’"

From The Journal

4 hours ago  • 

"RACINE — The city of Racine has issued a new statement regarding a $1.35 million settlement in the bars lawsuit.

"'This was a long and hard fought piece of litigation,' said City Attorney Scott Letteney in the statement issued Thursday afternoon.

"'A good settlement, by definition, is when both sides are equally unhappy with the result. The city is glad to have this matter over with,' he added."

Read more:


From Pattern or Practice:

"A great story of a small attorney firm believing in a civil rights case and teaming with a national firm to  take on racial discrimination and institutionalized racism in a midsize city."

Read more:

They should have gone to trial.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

"City-bar settlement about mitigating risks, city says"

From The Journal

Read: m

What a Crock-O-Shit.  Lying John is becoming Teflon John.  Confidentiality agreements tell taxpayers that  someone has something to hide.  It's our money, but we have no right to know how it's spent.  What a den of thieves

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

"Patti Smith-'Free Money' from Horses"

"$1.3 million deal reached in bars lawsuit"

From The Journal

"RACINE — Seven former minority tavern owners will share a $1.3 million payout with their attorneys in a settlement agreement in the city bars lawsuit approved Tuesday night by the City Council.

"The agreement calls for the city’s liability insurer, the Cities and Villages Municipal Insurance Company or CIVMIC, to pay each plaintiff in the suit $15,000, giving the remaining $1,275,000 to their attorneys: the firms of Kohler & Hart, S.C. and Segal McCambridge Singer & Mahoney, LTD.

"The settlement agreement marks the end of the high-profile 18-month legal battle between the city and former bar owners, requiring the plaintiffs to release and dismiss all claims and allowing the city and other defendants to continue to deny wrongdoing.

"The plaintiffs in the lawsuit first sued the city in February 2014 in the Federal District Court for the Eastern District of Wisconsin in Milwaukee, accusing Mayor John Dickert and more than 15 other defendants of engaging in an elaborate plot to drive minority bar owners out of the city.

"Aldermen — bound by an agreement not to discuss the details of the settlement until after the council took action — did not make any comments before voting 10-2 to approve the deal.

"Alderman Sandy Weidner and former defendant in the suit, Alderman Jeff Coe, voted against approving the deal. Most of the aldermen present for the vote Tuesday, including Weidner and Coe, had attended a closed-door Executive Committee meeting on Monday in which they were informed of the details of the agreement.

"Aldermen Q.A. Shakoor, II and Steve Smetana were excused from the meeting and not present for the vote. Alderman Dennis Wiser served as the chairman of the meeting and did not vote.

"Details of the agreement were released to the media following the vote, but the actual agreement was not made available.

"Dickert was not present during the meeting, but said in a statement issued just after the vote that he was pleased that the matter was resolved despite his belief that the city would prevail at trial.

"'This case was a nuisance to the city and it is good to have it concluded,' the statement read. 'Now it is time get back to growing our city and continuing to build unity among all of our citizens.'

"When asked where Dickert was, City Administrator Tom Friedel said they mayor was attending a conference in Wausau.

"Attempts to reach attorneys for the plaintiffs in the case were unsuccessful Tuesday.

"According to the city press release detailing aspects of the settlement agreement, the plaintiffs’ attorneys incurred approximately $7.2 million in fees and costs."

Read more:

Party on, lying John!

Chicago Field Trips....

Not so funny when you think about it.

"The Tokens - 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' (Wimoweh)"

However, I would not want to be around when the lion wakes up. Talk about an alarm clock . . .

Monday, October 5, 2015

"Settlement deal reached in bars lawsuit"

From The Journal

"RACINE — A settlement agreement has been reached in the city bars lawsuit.

"News of the deal was revealed Monday night after a closed-session meeting of the City Council’s Executive Committee which, according to a posted agenda, had gathered to confer with its legal counsel in the case.

"The committee did not make any vote before coming into open session, but after the meeting City Attorney Scott Letteney confirmed that a settlement deal had been reached.

"Letteney declined to provide further detail, but said the details of the agreement were expected to be presented during Tuesday night’s City Council meeting, where aldermen would be asked to approve the deal.

"The City Council must approve the deal before it can be carried out, Letteney said.

"'The parties have agreed that the terms of the proposed settlement agreement will not be publicly discussed by either side until after the (City) Council takes action,' Letteney said. 'There will be an agenda item recommending approval of the proposed settlement on (Tuesday) night’s council agenda.'

"The seven plaintiffs in the lawsuit first sued the city in February 2014, accusing Mayor John Dickert and more than 15 other defendants of engaging in an elaborate plot to drive minority bar owners out of the city.

"Since that date, the plaintiffs’ case has shrunk dramatically, both in the number of defendants being sued and the violations being claimed.

"The revelation of a deal in the lawsuit comes a week after attorneys for the plaintiffs filed a 126-page motion opposing a motion for summary judgment filed by the city in August. In its motion, the city argued the case should not go to trial, stating there is no proof the city and other defendants racially discriminated against the plaintiffs or their businesses.