I’m RL Crabb And I Approve This Monologue

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Send Lawyers, Guns & Money

Some of my friends are shocked that some of their friends are supporting this little shit shooter. It was like that at Kent State as well. Burning cities are the kind of thing that got Nixon reelected with 49 states in 1972.

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Plodding Toward September

Assemblyman Kevin Kiley attempted to pass a bill repealing AB5 today. As the list of people (including me) who supported the effort was handed to Gonzalez, she tossed  it onto the floor.

The “clean up” bill amending many of AB5’s restrictions will pass, and Governor Nuisance has promised to sign it, but there are still many professions left out in the cold. Thanks for nothing, Lorena.

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Whose America Is It, Anyway?

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It’s Not A Contest

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Famous Last Words

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Old Lightning Rod Strikes

Ben and that wanker Tom Paine were America’s founding socialists. Thank Jesus Donald Trump is here to set things straight.

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“THEY R COMING!”

Some people around here don’t think the locals are up to protesting on their own. There must be outsiders pulling the strings, right?

And if there are some of those urban agitators in the crowd, so what? Marching down the street and banging on pots and pans is hardly a capital offense, and is covered by the 1st amendment. After watching Eric Christen and Reinette Senum encouraging the crowd at the Capitol to come to their protest at the Rood Center, it only seems fair to invite the opposition.

If anything, the thugs that took to the street to defend mom and apple pie only made the noisy protesters more sympathetic. The local BLM was beginning to wear out their welcome with their never ending marches and street blockages. Now the viral photo of a black woman being manhandled has gone viral, along with the mug shot of the grinning idiot who allegedly did the mauling.

I’ve asked several times if anyone in Grass Valley or Nevada City has been told to relinquish their property or pay tribute to BLM, and I’m still waiting for a response. The main thrust of the local protests appear to be aimed at keeping the issue of racism in the spotlight and demand police reform.  Other than some lipstick on the window of the Old Town restaurant, I haven’t seen any scenes reminiscent of Portland or Seattle, despite what Ted Cruz says.

And I see George Rebane has taken me to task for my piece on the Country Pie debacle of 1970. George seems to remember a different political climate in those days. I suppose I could just as easily rewrite the story of his past fleeing across Europe during WWII, being chased by Germans and Russians while being strafed by the allies. In the new version, we’ll say the Nazis weren’t all that bad, because, hey, at least they weren’t the gadamn antifa commies.

And because George wasn’t anywhere near Nevada City in 1970, he wouldn’t know about Melissa, who with her biracial child was gifted with a brick through the window of her Nevada City apartment. He wouldn’t have known about hippie Bob getting his beard ripped out by the roots. There were plenty of other examples.

George doesn’t believe the hippies of yesteryear are anything like the current crop of Black Lives Matter protesters, mainly due to the current neo-marxist rhetoric. It’s hard to believe George lived in the sixties. The entire back to the land movement was centered on communal living. Ho Chi Minh and Che Guevara were more popular than Nixon, and Martin Luther King was the godfather of social justice.

I’ve known George for the better part of a decade. We broke bread together several times, at his home and mine, and discussed politics in a civil manner. We agree on a variety of issues. I am steadfastly against the overreach of the woke cancel culture that has been germinating on college campuses for a good twenty years. I’d like to see the details before we start defunding police. Although I understand the aversion black people have for confederate statues, I believe the good done by Washington and the other founding fathers gives them a second chance at redemption. While I support the concept of black lives mattering, I won’t be sending a check to the home office.

I trust the Democrats as far as I can throw them. I am especially hostile to Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez for her ill-conceived AB5, and I’m angered by the Governor dedicating $20M to enforcing it while we are in the middle of a crushing recession where every job counts.

But it irks old George and his cronies that for years I’ve sought a middle ground to try to salvage what’s left of our democratic republic. According to the right, I’m a dupe of the collectivists because I like Medicare and the post office. How can you reason with people would rather see families die in the streets than get medical care and strangle the post office to win an election?

My democratic socialist friends give me grief when I suggest that government can’t fix all the ills of the world, and their need to regulate every aspect of our lives is as wrong-headed as doing away with all regulations.  It turns out I’m either too liberal or too conservative to be part of any current political party.

And on most days it looks like my critics will win the day, because we’ve come to a place where both sides have convinced themselves that only by winning it all can the country survive. No mention of what to do with the 60 million losers who vote the wrong way.

And frankly, I don’t see how there is much of a future for anyone if we can’t get along any better than this. If anyone thinks this will be settled in November, I’ve got a bridge that’s on fire and sinking in a swamp I’d like to sell you.

 

Posted in Inept vs. Insane 2020, Local, Politics | 3 Comments

The Curse of 2020?

I am currently experiencing technical problems with posting comments. If you have commented, the messages are still here, but not showing up on the posts. Hopefully, this problem will be resolved soon. Argh!

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Whose Town Is It, Anyway?

It was a lazy summer afternoon in 1970 Nevada City. The little section of Pine Street between Broad and Commercial Streets had been closed off for Country Pie, a crafts fair sponsored by Gary and Alan Rogers.

Local artisans were going on about their business, hawking pottery, candles and other handmade wares, while being observed by a group of locals who had gathered in front of Eddie’s Broiler across Broad Street. There was much grumbling among the mostly unemployed or retired loggers and miners about the hippies who they felt were invading “their” town.

A young fellow with long blond hair and a beard known only as Hippie Bob was crossing Broad Street when he stopped midway to talk to a friend. A truck driven by local logger Jake Graham patiently waited for the two to move along, but after a few minutes he pulled forward and told the hippies to get out of the way.

Hippie Bob responded with a few choice words and a one-finger salute, which infuriated Graham. He parked his vehicle and returned to the scene, where he joined the growing crowd of likeminded locals who had been taunting the artisans at the street fair.

It was a situation that had been building since the Summer of Love in 1967, when young longhaired folks began moving to the area in search of an alternate lifestyle away from the stifling constraints of city life. Land was cheap, and various communes sprung up in the hills, along with illegal marijuana farms.

Not everyone was unhappy with the newcomers. New businesses were filling empty storefronts and paying much needed sales tax. The cash generated from the pot farms bought farming equipment and building materials at the local lumberyards and hardware stores. Wads of dollars may have raised a few eyebrows, but hey, it was still profit and profit is what business is about.

The group on the corner didn’t care about any of that. They were not going to be pushed aside by a bunch of commies from Berkeley, and so they confronted Alan Rogers, who with his brother Gary had helped organize Country Pie. The brothers were also proprietors of the Rogers Frame Shop, which was located on Pine Street at the time.

As Alan remembers it, “They were big guys, loggers and miners, and they demanded an end to the street closure.”

“They didn’t intimidate me. I was young and in pretty good shape, so I met them toe to toe.”

Still, Alan didn’t want to see his friends’ hard work destroyed by a gang of vandals, so it was agreed the fair would close down.

The issue was put on the agenda for the next city council meeting. An overflow crowd of concerned citizens forced the meeting to move to the Elk’s Hall, at that time above Friar Tucks.

Then- city manager Beryl Robinson said he was surprised by the reaction and the vitriol hurled at him for allowing the event to take place on city streets. He recalled having to walk through a gauntlet of angry constituents to get in the building.

From The Union, June 15:

Freemont “Jake” Graham unofficially ran the two-hour meeting. The main subject was the townspeople’s complaint that dirty, half-naked people with “ugly armpits” as one woman described them, were allowed to stand and sit on the sidewalks in front of businesses and “driving legitimate customers away. Police Chief Moon and assistant DA Ron MacMillen stated that any local ordinances had been voided by state law.

For a few minutes, the meeting bogged down into the length of time each speaker had lived in Nevada City. Graham, who has spent his life to date in the town, quizzed each speaker about his length of time in Nevada City.

Councilman Bob Paine, who had also spent his life here said “39 years.” Dr. Leland Lewis yelled “You can’t simply legislate against long hair and clothing.” He answered Graham’s question, “Six years, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Richard Hotchkiss spoke for the craftsmen who organized Country Pie. He said he was a lifelong resident of the county. His wife has been a teacher in the Nevada City school system for six years and “this has been the best place for our child to grow up -until this fiasco.”

After almost two hours of everyone having their say, each councilman made a remark. The council wouldn’t have issued a permit for the two-day show “if we had known what would happen.”

“We did it to bring in business,” Councilman Lon Cooper said, and Arch McPherson echoed his feelings.

Mrs. Elliot remarked that a sign should be placed at the city limits saying “Clean People Only Wanted.” Some wag said it would have to be a historical sign, which brought laughter from the 300 in attendance.

The tension between the old and new residents simmered for the remainder of that summer. There were stories of harassment and a few fistfights in the bars, and some folks from both sides decided that Nevada City wasn’t quite the nice little town they thought it was and chose to move on to greener pastures.

Those newcomers who remained became the business owners and artists who shaped the town  through the next half century, to this place we call home today.

So it is disappointing to see history repeat itself on these same streets. Most, if not all the participants in last Sunday’s melee were not even born when the Country Pie debacle dominated the news in 1970.

Nevada city, Grass Valley and the county surrounding it do not belong to any faction or generation. We have our differences. We always have and always will, but we all breathe the same air. We all drive the same roads. We all shop in the same stores. And we all love our community.

When some fool shoots an Airsoft rifle at Back the Blue protestors, it’s a crime against all of us. When someone assaults a Black Lives Matter protestor, it’s a crime against all of us. You want to make a difference? Do it in your church, your charity, your vote, but give your neighbor the same respect you want him or her to give you in return.

And the next time you are in Nevada City, stop and read the words on the plaque embedded on the front of city hall.

 

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