Wednesday, June 3, 2009
How Affordable is Housing?
The latest from MJ Perry. Low interest rate, tanking housing prices. Ah, if only the macro-economic fundamentals of the economy were sound. Also, keep in mind markets can over-adjust.
19 May 09
The Death of Marcia Powell (by Lifer Renee)
Renee - She was only a teenager when she received a sixty-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. Fourteen years into her sentence, Renee is writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
“Did you hear Marcia died?” Sally asked.
We were perched on a slope because there is no shade on the yard whatsoever.
“No,” I replied, shocked by yet another death. “I heard they took her to the hospital. What happened?”
“Yesterday, Marcia was in the rec cage, and the property clerk was down there, and Marcia asked her, ‘Hey, can you tell Officer A****d I need some water?’ Well, you know it was 107° yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. I came outside for a minute. I couldn’t take it. It was too hot.”
“The property clerk goes and tells the officer, ‘Hey, Powell is asking for water.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I’m busy right now.’ That was at 11, and no one knows how long she’d already been in the rec cage. So anyways, another girl that was working down there, the same thing happened. Marcia asked her to tell Officer A****d she needs some water. So the girl goes to the control box, and says, ‘Officer A****d, Powell is asking for water.’ He says, ‘Yeah, I’m busy right now. I’ll get to it.’ Anyways, the call came over the radio sometime close to 3pm that she was passed out in the rec enclosure. No one knows how long she was in there because it wasn’t logged. She died of heatstroke.”
I went to say something and heard the click of the intercom. “Lockdown! We’re under ICS!”
I’ve been doing time with Marcia now for 15 years. She had no one. No home, family, that I know of. On the streets, she was always homeless. She was mentally challenged, but she was always nice, always smiling.
When she would see me: “Hi, Renee! Hi, Renee! Renee, hi! How’re you doing?”
“Great, Marcia, how’re you?”
“You’re so pretty, Renee. Can I get a cup of coffee?”
“If you’ll comb your hair for me today.”
“OK. OK. I will sing for you. Do you want me to sing for you?”
Sometimes she would sing to me just because, but it was always the same song. “Rappers Delight” by the Sugar Hill Gang. She knew every word and never missed a beat. It is sad.
There was chatter that our deputy warden was escorted off the property today.
I hear the helicopters flying over right now. I wonder if it is the news. Looking out of my window, I see the women who live in Building 23 gathered outside, waving towards the sky.
Hold on, I just looked at the TV and our prison is on the news. Will they spew lies or tell the truth? It turned out to be a little bit of both.
Our deputy warden, captain, and shift commander are on administrative leave. I don’t know why them and not the officers who were working the yard. CO2 M**a, CO2 A****d, and CO2 M****s.
The news said the temperatures that day were between 105° to 110°. The director, Charles Ryan, stated there may have been negligence and they are investigating. Marcia was in the cage waiting to be transported to CDU [Complex Detention Unit]. She was in the cage for more than two hours longer than the maximum amount of time the Arizona Department of Corrections’ policy allows for an outside enclosure. They also said they are investigating how an inmate died in his cell at the Lewis prison, Buckeye.
It’s crazy. But it is life, at least the one I know.
Click here for Renee’s previous blog about a woman prisoner with AIDS biting another prisoner.
Click here for the news story on the death of Marcia Powell.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Renee to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
The Death of Marcia Powell (by Lifer Renee)
Renee - She was only a teenager when she received a sixty-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. Fourteen years into her sentence, Renee is writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
“Did you hear Marcia died?” Sally asked.
We were perched on a slope because there is no shade on the yard whatsoever.
“No,” I replied, shocked by yet another death. “I heard they took her to the hospital. What happened?”
“Yesterday, Marcia was in the rec cage, and the property clerk was down there, and Marcia asked her, ‘Hey, can you tell Officer A****d I need some water?’ Well, you know it was 107° yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. I came outside for a minute. I couldn’t take it. It was too hot.”
“The property clerk goes and tells the officer, ‘Hey, Powell is asking for water.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I’m busy right now.’ That was at 11, and no one knows how long she’d already been in the rec cage. So anyways, another girl that was working down there, the same thing happened. Marcia asked her to tell Officer A****d she needs some water. So the girl goes to the control box, and says, ‘Officer A****d, Powell is asking for water.’ He says, ‘Yeah, I’m busy right now. I’ll get to it.’ Anyways, the call came over the radio sometime close to 3pm that she was passed out in the rec enclosure. No one knows how long she was in there because it wasn’t logged. She died of heatstroke.”
I went to say something and heard the click of the intercom. “Lockdown! We’re under ICS!”
I’ve been doing time with Marcia now for 15 years. She had no one. No home, family, that I know of. On the streets, she was always homeless. She was mentally challenged, but she was always nice, always smiling.
When she would see me: “Hi, Renee! Hi, Renee! Renee, hi! How’re you doing?”
“Great, Marcia, how’re you?”
“You’re so pretty, Renee. Can I get a cup of coffee?”
“If you’ll comb your hair for me today.”
“OK. OK. I will sing for you. Do you want me to sing for you?”
Sometimes she would sing to me just because, but it was always the same song. “Rappers Delight” by the Sugar Hill Gang. She knew every word and never missed a beat. It is sad.
There was chatter that our deputy warden was escorted off the property today.
I hear the helicopters flying over right now. I wonder if it is the news. Looking out of my window, I see the women who live in Building 23 gathered outside, waving towards the sky.
Hold on, I just looked at the TV and our prison is on the news. Will they spew lies or tell the truth? It turned out to be a little bit of both.
Our deputy warden, captain, and shift commander are on administrative leave. I don’t know why them and not the officers who were working the yard. CO2 M**a, CO2 A****d, and CO2 M****s.
The news said the temperatures that day were between 105° to 110°. The director, Charles Ryan, stated there may have been negligence and they are investigating. Marcia was in the cage waiting to be transported to CDU [Complex Detention Unit]. She was in the cage for more than two hours longer than the maximum amount of time the Arizona Department of Corrections’ policy allows for an outside enclosure. They also said they are investigating how an inmate died in his cell at the Lewis prison, Buckeye.
It’s crazy. But it is life, at least the one I know.
Click here for Renee’s previous blog about a woman prisoner with AIDS biting another prisoner.
Click here for the news story on the death of Marcia Powell.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Renee to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
"Everyone Welcome"
I was in my old neighborhood today, driving around on the motorcycle, thanking Obama for making it not worth my time to get a day time job, thusly forcing me into semi-retirement and thusly forcing me to enjoy the perfect weather. But before I got onto the West River Parkway (a scenic parkway that follows the Mississippi) I saw the Seward Coop, a local food coop, and on the building it said;
"Everyone Welcome."
And as I sat there at the light looking at the sign, it occurred to me that this sign was much more telling about leftist mentality that at first glance in that WHAT FREAKING GROCERY STORE DOESN'T WELCOME EVERYONE?
Do you know of a company that does NOT welcome everyone?
Isn't that the goal of commerce is to get EVERYONE into your store so they spend their money?
I never saw Rainbow or Cub Foods (large "evil" corporate grocerers) with signs saying, "Only Tall People Allowed."
Or Target that said, "Only Jews on Thursdays, Christians on Fridays, Aethiests of Saturdays and Muslims on Mondays."
The statement is inane. But here we can peer into the delusional psychology of the left.
Understand it isn't enough to just simply welcome everyone just like everyone else does and not make a big stink about it. No, you have to wear this badge of altruism for all to see. To show how accepting of all peoples, races and cultures that you are. Forget that "welcoming everyone" is SOP, if not the most sought after goal of marketing and every business. No, you have to be special and SHOW to the world that you "Welcome everyone."
Additionally, in bragging about how they "welcome everyone" they are implying that somehow other grocerers don't. That Rainbow and Cub and Lund's and Byerly's are all racist, sexist, homophobic, bigots. Not that this was their intention, but the logical deduction is "Well if they welcome EVERYONE, then obviously other grocers don't."
Regardless the point here is the vital leftist pscyhosis of symbolism over substance. It doesn't matter that grocers don't discriminate. It doesn't matter that there hasn't been any problems with different people being able to get service at various grocers. It all simply boils down to the people who run the coop want to feel good about themselves, but without really doing anything productive or that has actual tangible worth.
"Look, we put a sign up showing everybody that we welcome everybody!"
What exact problem did that solve?
The answer, nothing, there was never a problem to begin with.
But hey, they got warm fuzzies and they can pat themselves on the back (without having to do something tangible, like contribute to GDP).
Yes, I'm sure that will help us turn this country around.
"Everyone Welcome."
And as I sat there at the light looking at the sign, it occurred to me that this sign was much more telling about leftist mentality that at first glance in that WHAT FREAKING GROCERY STORE DOESN'T WELCOME EVERYONE?
Do you know of a company that does NOT welcome everyone?
Isn't that the goal of commerce is to get EVERYONE into your store so they spend their money?
I never saw Rainbow or Cub Foods (large "evil" corporate grocerers) with signs saying, "Only Tall People Allowed."
Or Target that said, "Only Jews on Thursdays, Christians on Fridays, Aethiests of Saturdays and Muslims on Mondays."
The statement is inane. But here we can peer into the delusional psychology of the left.
Understand it isn't enough to just simply welcome everyone just like everyone else does and not make a big stink about it. No, you have to wear this badge of altruism for all to see. To show how accepting of all peoples, races and cultures that you are. Forget that "welcoming everyone" is SOP, if not the most sought after goal of marketing and every business. No, you have to be special and SHOW to the world that you "Welcome everyone."
Additionally, in bragging about how they "welcome everyone" they are implying that somehow other grocerers don't. That Rainbow and Cub and Lund's and Byerly's are all racist, sexist, homophobic, bigots. Not that this was their intention, but the logical deduction is "Well if they welcome EVERYONE, then obviously other grocers don't."
Regardless the point here is the vital leftist pscyhosis of symbolism over substance. It doesn't matter that grocers don't discriminate. It doesn't matter that there hasn't been any problems with different people being able to get service at various grocers. It all simply boils down to the people who run the coop want to feel good about themselves, but without really doing anything productive or that has actual tangible worth.
"Look, we put a sign up showing everybody that we welcome everybody!"
What exact problem did that solve?
The answer, nothing, there was never a problem to begin with.
But hey, they got warm fuzzies and they can pat themselves on the back (without having to do something tangible, like contribute to GDP).
Yes, I'm sure that will help us turn this country around.
Jacqui Smith
Ah, and this is the "anchor of morality" that was going to decide who and who should not be able to visit the UK, specifically banning Michael Savage from the UK.
I refused to visit the UK when former Mayor Livingstone of London slammed the US. Then once he lost his re-election I thought I would visit London again.
Not until Michael Savage gets an apology will I set foot in the country or for that matter buy British goods.
I refused to visit the UK when former Mayor Livingstone of London slammed the US. Then once he lost his re-election I thought I would visit London again.
Not until Michael Savage gets an apology will I set foot in the country or for that matter buy British goods.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Best of Captain Capitalism - Jim Still Wears His Ring
My buddy John hasn't bought a new shirt in about 20 years. And the reason he hasn't bought a new shirt in 20 years is because he buys used shirts at the Disabled Vietnam Vet store.
His logic is irrefutable;
"I don't care to find a wife. I don't go out to bars or clubs. So why spend $20 on a new shirt that will just go out of style in a year when I can buy a used shirt for $1 and help out the disabled vets?"
But his logic also applies to other wares and services, especially when you don't care to go to boomchicaboom bars and just want a beer or just want a burger.
God bless the VFW and American Legion.
For if there are establishments that stand to gain from a recession, it will be the American Legion and the VFW.
I've started frequenting the VFW's and American Legion's in the area simply because of three reasons;
1. I don't "go out" anymore "trying to meet girls" and therefore have no reason to pay $9 for a martini.
2. You can not only get a martini, but a burger, fries, a soda and tip for $9 at an American Legion or VFW.
3. I'd rather give my $9 to the vets than some young preppy putz on daddy's dime who thinks they're going to make it big by setting up a bar and charging $10 for a martini in down town. Additionally the conversation and company of veterans is insanely more intellectual and less painful than trying to converse with Bambi the cosmetology major about who should be voted off Teen Idol.
And that's why I like Jim.
I met Jim at the American Legion in town. He was an older guy, WWII vet and dapperly dressed for his age. We got to talking and I noticed after five minutes of conversation that he had a wedding ring on. The problem was it didn't add up. It was approaching midnight and he was at a bar sipping away at some kind of bourbon talking to my skinny Irish ass. Where was his wife?
Unfortunately I knew the answer, but thought an old guy like him might like to talk about it.
"Where's your wife?"
He paused and with no change or inflection in his tone said, "She's dead."
"How long ago?" I asked.
"Three years." he said.
I didn't want to make a comment about him still wearing his ring. Not that I wanted him to "go out and find another girl" or that "he should get over it and move on." Quite the contrary. If I would have said anything it would have been, "Hey, I respect that you're still wearing that ring and being loyal to your wife, even after her death." But I didn't deem my political observation necessary. Based on how many drinks he had, I figured he was bidding his time and numbing the pain until he could see her again.
That being said, I'll be damned if I don't applaud him here and now. For I could never figure out, for my self anyway, if I got married and my wife were to die, how I could re-marry. Maybe I'm too idealistic. Maybe I've watched too many American movies where the good guys win and there's some semblance of justice or honor. But if I lost my wife, I don't think, let alone see how I could marry another gal. No disrespect to all you other gals out there, but that concept of marrying "the one" (not to get all chicky on you guys) means "the one."
And I tip my hat to Jim for having such a lovely wife that he could accept no substitute.
His logic is irrefutable;
"I don't care to find a wife. I don't go out to bars or clubs. So why spend $20 on a new shirt that will just go out of style in a year when I can buy a used shirt for $1 and help out the disabled vets?"
But his logic also applies to other wares and services, especially when you don't care to go to boomchicaboom bars and just want a beer or just want a burger.
God bless the VFW and American Legion.
For if there are establishments that stand to gain from a recession, it will be the American Legion and the VFW.
I've started frequenting the VFW's and American Legion's in the area simply because of three reasons;
1. I don't "go out" anymore "trying to meet girls" and therefore have no reason to pay $9 for a martini.
2. You can not only get a martini, but a burger, fries, a soda and tip for $9 at an American Legion or VFW.
3. I'd rather give my $9 to the vets than some young preppy putz on daddy's dime who thinks they're going to make it big by setting up a bar and charging $10 for a martini in down town. Additionally the conversation and company of veterans is insanely more intellectual and less painful than trying to converse with Bambi the cosmetology major about who should be voted off Teen Idol.
And that's why I like Jim.
I met Jim at the American Legion in town. He was an older guy, WWII vet and dapperly dressed for his age. We got to talking and I noticed after five minutes of conversation that he had a wedding ring on. The problem was it didn't add up. It was approaching midnight and he was at a bar sipping away at some kind of bourbon talking to my skinny Irish ass. Where was his wife?
Unfortunately I knew the answer, but thought an old guy like him might like to talk about it.
"Where's your wife?"
He paused and with no change or inflection in his tone said, "She's dead."
"How long ago?" I asked.
"Three years." he said.
I didn't want to make a comment about him still wearing his ring. Not that I wanted him to "go out and find another girl" or that "he should get over it and move on." Quite the contrary. If I would have said anything it would have been, "Hey, I respect that you're still wearing that ring and being loyal to your wife, even after her death." But I didn't deem my political observation necessary. Based on how many drinks he had, I figured he was bidding his time and numbing the pain until he could see her again.
That being said, I'll be damned if I don't applaud him here and now. For I could never figure out, for my self anyway, if I got married and my wife were to die, how I could re-marry. Maybe I'm too idealistic. Maybe I've watched too many American movies where the good guys win and there's some semblance of justice or honor. But if I lost my wife, I don't think, let alone see how I could marry another gal. No disrespect to all you other gals out there, but that concept of marrying "the one" (not to get all chicky on you guys) means "the one."
And I tip my hat to Jim for having such a lovely wife that he could accept no substitute.
Dealing with Kim Jong Il
This is pretty much how every real American male below the age of 40 that has not yet been emasculated by society and still has a little John Wayne in him views the situation with North Korea and the utter spinelessness of not just the UN, but the US, Japan, Russia, China and in general our current day leaders.
If you haven't bought your LICD comic book, then I suggest you get on it.
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