Had he only contacted me I would have told him that my mother-in-law and sister-in-law aren’t involved with El Chapo, Los Hermanos Arrellano Felix or La Reyna Del Pacifico so at least he would know his declaration was false. By definition folks involved with these groups are ’narcos’ or involved in the drug trade. Those that aren’t, aren’t. Hopefully Rep. Tancredo puts down his bong long enough and lets that simple fact sink in.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law belong to an extremist group called Los Testigos de Jehovah or in English, Jehovah’s Witnesses. These radicals are trying their best to get rid of beer and cantinas and mota and everything else the good Congressman does and more. But that’s not the half of it. Furthermore they are against all fiestas including Cinco de Mayo and Christmas. Needless to say you can imagine what a hoot it is New Year’s Eve at their casa.

I’m sure if El Chapo himself came up and offered a lucrative drug territory to my relatives they would start telling him about the Mark of the Beast and Armageddon. El Chapo would not know what to say when they describe the beast rising up out of the ocean and coming on land to take care of business.

El Chapo could be talking about great big bags of cocaine and they would be quoting Bible verses. They will wear him out. And they don’t tire. Once they quote the whole Bible they don’t feel the least bit embarrassed about doing it all over again. Day after day. Week after week. They don’t do drugs; they quote the Bible.

And then there are my Maya pals. Yes, Rep. Tancredo, I do have a hut in a Maya village with my Mexican wife of 35 years who didn’t know who El Chapo was either until I told her.

Now my question to the mentally compromised Rep. Tancredo is this: if everyone is involved in the lucrative drug trade, why are all my Maya neighbors so poor? Not one has a Mercedes, jet, pool, spa, bodyguard or small arms firing range. Not one has a Swedish trophy wife that lounges around the hut in a bikini. Not one of their kids is a spring breaker. Que pasa?

So much for the facts. The problem is that irresponsible statements can actually hurt bilateral relations. The Congressman is portrayed as somewhat brain damaged by all three Mexican parties: the PAN, the PRI and the PRD. To get these three groups to agree on anything is next to impossible. But they did all agree to denounce the mental faculties of the good Congressman.

Santiago Creel and Ruth Green Macias of the Mexican Congress in La Cronica newspaper characterized Congressman’s Tancredo’s statements as odd since many of Congressman’s constituents are drug users. In fact, they make the point that if the Congressman’s constituents stopped consuming drugs, the drug cartels everywhere would just go away. Reduced demand means reduced supply.

Is it any less righteous of me to accuse the good senator of snorting a few lines in the Congressional loo then it is for him to accuse my relatives and every other Mexican of being a drug trafficker?

What is truly ironic is that just as the Congressman’s accusations were hitting the Mexican websites another story broke about how armed drug cartel assassins killed four police in an ambush. I’m certain if these police had been members of the drug cartel then the cartel would not have killed them. In fact, the feeds were saying that two cops were slain as they innocently tried to stop the killers in another town.

Now, if I’m the mother or father of one of these slain cops and I read what the stoned Rep. Tancredo is saying then I get a bit ticked. I get angry at Rep. Tancredo and all his drug using constituents that support the cartels that killed my son in the line of duty.

So, fare Congressman, not all Mexicans are drug dealers. And I’ll even bet not all your constituents are drug users either. When you accuse a neighbor and friend of something as strong as being a drug dealer you damn better well have proof or somebody is going to call your bluff.

Because sooner or later that great big sea monster at Armageddon time is going to come up and take care of all those that spread malicious lies and rumors about their good neighbors. My Jehovah’s Witness mother in law would say that if the good Congressman apologizes and promises to mend his ways then we should forgive and forget. That’s what Jesus wants us to do.

But as for me, I think it’s sea monster time.

Obviously not Sutter Medical who bought the property. The fourteen acres in question is private property, Sutter bought it and end of story. Well, not quite the end of the story. The flea community may soon be dissolved but the people will still continue. These are the small business people, collectors, farmworkers, recyclers, junk men, families, hobbyists, lonely hearts and the mentally borderline who want or need something other than ball games and political TV gossip on the weekends. Folks that make the world go round.

Folks like Lupe, a 41 year old farmworker mother that sells to make ends meet yet always wants to give us free stuff. And Sam, a 62 year old retiree that dislikes his wife so he spends flea market days flirting with anyone that will pay him attention. And Marvin, a 44 year old mentally disabled man that visits the market to socialize since almost all his time is spent by himself in his room.

And Carl, an antiques dealer who for 20 years has been shopping the flea for antiques and collectibles for his store. Sara, an antiques dealer that started liquidating her inventory ever since the antiques and collectibles market started to slip. Nguyen, a student at San Jose State who sells cheap goods out of a box van to pay his way through college.

Josefina, a Salinas mother of two, sells fruits and vegetables to augment her family’s income from the fields and teach her children a strong work ethic. Jacobo works as a custodian for the flea in the winters when there is no field work. Jake works as a market security guard to support his wife and three children. Cindy works in the concession stand to pay her way through Cabrillo Junior College.

Laughing John, a reseller of curios and collectibles, drives each Sunday all the way from Fremont. Bartolo, a locker buyer from Castroville who has been dealing junk for over 30 years, will have to find a new line of work. Arn, who visits his ex-students and stops to talk art with those he meets, will no longer be able to regularly see so many of his old friends. Bill, an artist and furniture maker who buys old and damaged furniture, fixes it up and sells it to supplement his social security, will obviously have to find a new source.

Intellectual Pat, one of the most knowledgeable antiques dealers around has been instructing his ’students’ at the flea market for decades. No mas. Bob and Julie drive from Turlock to sell almonds from their orchard. Linda the hat lady arrives in her VW rabbit with hats stacked to the roof. Amanda sells cheap LA warehouse surplus so she and her husband can go to Reno and gamble.

David, who sells designer pants and shirts at about the best prices around, drives from Milpitas and has a wife and two kids. Bill from the Westside has been selling tools, music and just about anything else at the flea for over 25 years. Elvy, just about the sweetest lady you will ever meet, buys stuff at garage sales on Saturdays that she resells on Sundays to help pay for clothes and expenses for her three school-aged daughters.

Jack, whose witticisms and art BS often made my day, will have to take his small talk somewhere else. Trevor, an antiques dealer who would fight to the last peso and then some, can’t get any more good deals. Dean, an old locker auction buddy who taught me lots about junk, people and how to make the best of a lousy situation, will survive. Like most flea folks, Dean is a survivor.

So is Maria, whose sole source of support is the flea, who will now have to drive to Hollister or San Jose with her box van of goodies. And Joe, whose easy going demeanor and people skills helped him sell truckload after truckload of junk, will have to find another way to finance his kid’s music lessons.

And there’s Frank, whose mental instability, persecution complex and short temper, have recently made him only a part time vendor as his flashbacks and sense of reality have started to merge in his senior years. No doubt he will show up one Sunday and not realize or remember the flea has closed. I guess maybe Sutter Medical will have to deal with him.

Managers Anna and Carlos will have to find new jobs. Mike, a daguerreotype photo collector and electronics tinkerer, will have to go elsewhere to buy parts for projects he builds with his sons. Adrian, who sells at the flea when not working at the carwash, sells CDs with Aurora to support their three sons in school. Tom, who makes his living selling flea stuff on EBay, will have to go elsewhere. Juan, a local chef who brings his daughter Daniela to the flea as family entertainment, lets her stay with us when she gets tired. We’ve watched her grow up.

And of course you, who want to find a place to sell off your stuff, make a few bucks, add to your collections, meet old friends, meet new friends and search for treasures, will now have to drive to another county. So will we.

Unfortunately the new parking lot will require downing some redwood trees and this is something UCSC has consistently taught its students is a big naughty. The protesters are only being good students and incorporating into their behaviors what they have learned in their studies. Recently the University gassed and clubbed them in an effort to dislodge from the trees area but they refused to go. Again, simply reflecting what they have been taught.

The savvy University strategists gassed and clubbed them using the old ’rile up the natives’ strategy from the Old School Procedures Manual. However, the same sharpies that ordered the 1) gassing and 2) clubbing forgot to read in the Procedures Manual the next step which is 3) haul their butts away. Granted hauling someone down from a hundred foot high platform on a redwood tree is problematic. At a hundred feet up it is important that the University be sensitive with the gassing and clubbing. The University isn’t totally stupid even if their people forgot to read Step Three in the manual.

Getting clubbed and gassed is a rite of passage that many of us baby boomers can remember. We protested against Vietnam and Kent State and racism but I never remember tree protests. I am also not real clear about redwoods having their own spirituality even though ex Santa Cruz Mayor Scott claimed she regularly talked with redwoods when she had a city problem. I can even in some bizarre mental contortion understand that; always available, never interrupts, listens attentively, recycles… What I have trouble with is the doom and gloom. Where did that come from?

Take recent UCSC grad Cindy. I spoke with Cindy this week and she said she has to move out of Santa Cruz because the density is bad. I asked her what was density and she said she wasn’t sure because she missed that lecture. But Santa Cruz and Cupertino have it. Mt. Shasta doesn’t. She had a bad dream and went to her spiritual adviser who advised her to leave town ASAP. And she is. My God, now she and her spiritual advisor have me worried about the Big One here in earthquake country…

She’s going to Mt. Shasta where the gentle and spiritual folks go. A sacred Native American natural holy place. I asked her could Mt. Shasta become Mt. St. Helens II and she said she did not know, probably missed that lecture too. I was just curious since moving from an earthquake to a volcano did not seem like my idea of lessening density; again, whatever that density may in fact be.

She seemed to think that living in a spiritual place near Indians would solve all her problems. She learned this gem of wisdom in her advanced studies at UC Santa Cruz. I explained to her that my wife and I have a palapa hut in a Maya village in the jungle and I’ve never had any sense at all that my Maya pals could solve any of my problems and they all claim to be indigenous Indians. They all speak Maya. Besides, even if I go to my ranch deep in the jungle to get away from it all I’ve still got problems. Bugs, heat, humidity, boas, crocodiles, jaguars…Indians or no Indians.

Cindy said my jungle ranch was truly undense and this led us right into the treesitters which presents a real dilemma for her. Should she do like her guru says and split or stay and support the treesitters? She asked me could I envision something for her and I replied the only thing I could envision was the Big One knocking down those trees. With that comment she gave me one of those ’you’re just like my parents’ looks. Actually someone like me that protested Kent State is more likely her grandpa now…

So I put on my thinking cap, alerted my network of international intellectuals and saw what we could collectively whiteboard to ease the stress on people, trees and densities whatever they may be.

So here are some possible solutions: 1) Transplant the redwoods with treesitters still attached. Big downer: requires NASA’s space shuttle ground transport carrier 2) get affluent UCSC students and affluent UCSC staff to give up their Audis. Big downer: less likely than a NASA chauffeured redwood transplant. 3) Chant, meditate, teach-in, tele-communicate, fairy dance, bong, bop, bing and align everyone’s chakras. Big Plus: it’s cheap, stylish and requires no additional training or 4) chop those suckers down treesitters and all. Big Minus: the densities get all out of whack.

And just how would you feel if your kid was up in that tree? Would you truly be non-judgmental? At a hundred feet up unless he grew up in a lumberjack camp you would have to be worried and wished as a concerned parent he had gone to Texas A&M. Oh to be an Aggie right now…

We should do a little fairy dance so one of those nasty winter storms doesn’t hit this week and knock the treesitters out of their tree. And maybe another fairy dance so the Big One doesn’t come and shake them out before the University figures out what to do or somebody on staff actually reads the Procedures Manual. But remember when the density patterns start to shift strange things happen…just ask Cindy.

Could this be the convergence of intelligent design and natural intelligence? I’d ask Cindy but she probably missed the lecture. Maybe I should ask the redwoods…

Peace.

Why do you feel like you’ve entered the twilight zone of arrested development and whatever potential you once had left with your divorce settlement?

OK. I know. You are expecting some words of comfort and sensitivity. Forget it. You made the huge booboo of dumbing down. Now at almost any depth your logic and reasoning falters. You have been called an intellectual wienie by your co-workers, neighbors and immediate family, all of whom are your biggest fans. That should tell you something.

You are the bane of Silicon Valley. Employers hire you because they need bodies. They know that at your best you’re good for showing up and behaving somewhat responsibly until you leave. That’s it. You are known as a generic sheep with a herd instinct.

At some point in your life, probably just before or after puberty, you lost the locus of control on yourself. You ceased to be the one in control of your destiny and have instead decided to let others do it for you, a task which they have always eagerly accepted.

Over a relatively short period of time, your perceptions have become increasingly distorted. You come to conclusions like the sky is falling, everything is the fault of the government and everything in the universe is equal to everything else.

As your thinking further deteriorates, you begin to fantasize that everything in the whole world is driven by oil, the U.S. is always wrong and any negative news about the U.S. is in some twisted way, good news.

In the advanced stages you feel you are qualified to judge people by their looks, opinions and political party affiliation. Despite being such a cynic, you paradoxically think your candidate is the one candidate that is different than all the others that ever were. You have long stopped judging candidates by what they believe and instead judge them on who they know. You are the culture wars.

At work, you drive your boss nuts. You always show up and you always do what you are told but you produce little and contribute little. Your creativity and innovation is zip. Several times you have been passed over for promotions assuming you would have the decency to quit, but you didn’t. As your opinions, attitudes and beliefs become more hardened and negative, you find more and more folks getting irritated simply by your presence.

At first you just accept a simple concept such as ’all societies are equal and just.’ As you mentally repeat this idea over a period of time you start to believe it. This causes the neurons in your hippocampus to turn to a dark, green liquid and folks start to suggest you take a vacation to recuperate since they can see your mental capacity is declining.

Eventually you deny yourself any sense of excitement or accomplishment as you are convinced it is bad to ever do anything solely for yourself, except of course the bathroom visits. Because of your skewed and depressing views; active, productive folks start avoiding you altogether and start making up excuses like they just came down with the plague and want to be a good amigo and not spread it to you.

As you finally descend into the category of ’loser’ you find that anyone that is not a loser avoids you as if you actually did have the plague. The only ones that can stand to be around you are your fellow losers and there comes a point where even they stop seeming very friendly…

Like the critics that criticize because they can’t create, you criticize those that stand out and haven’t succumbed to the ’we are all dumbed down’ credo. They in turn don’t do business with you, hire you, marry you, socialize with you, befriend you or help you when you can’t figure out the right spreadsheet formula.

If your spouse hasn’t joined you on this dumbing down quest then she will soon be leaving you. Another sign of this is when one starts regularly grinding his teeth. The person they hoped they could change when they got married turned out to be a bigger fool than they imagined. To make things worse she doesn’t necessarily even leave you for another man or another woman, they just leave. They don’t need an excuse let alone a reason…

In the end you turn bitter because no one buys into your baloney anymore. You lose interest in that which does not support your fantasies and over time the effect becomes more pronounced. As you lose your interest, you become less interesting. Sadly, at some point you begin to realize that you are such un-fun that all your friends and family are trying to avoid you. They see you as mix of sad, stupid and goofy.

Like Buddha says, a hundred years from now who the heck will care. But if you want to get admitted, get the job, get the promotion, get the sale, get married, get the contract or just about get anything else, just remember that your collective thinking is all your fault.

Understanding that it is all your fault might not make you feel any better but that insight just might be your only way out.

On the Democratic side we have the Clintons, Obama (aka Osama) and Proletarian John. What a country! What a cast! Lately the Clintons have been sliding as Osama takes advantage of name recognition and voter confusion. Fully three quarters of Americans recognize the name Osama though less than half can remember in what context. The Rev. Jesse Jackson also helped Obama by stating that Obama was not black enough giving Osama supporters hope that he could actually win. The Lord most definitely works in mysterious ways…

As Obama attacks, the Clintons defend and deflect and take courage from Bill’s strong stand on his principles: "I did it because I could." Not even Hillary could argue with that sharp strategy. Talk about mental horsepower…remember that in a poker game you always want Bill on your side.

Meanwhile Comrade Edwards starts to rot as only even 15% of the Demos still believe he is a proletarian. Dennis Kucinich, the sentimental favorite, is gaining ground as voters admire his determination at finding a date any which way he can. (Ever been to Tijuana, cowboy?) Senators Joseph Biden of Delaware and former New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson will maintain a longstanding Democratic tradition as being by far the most qualified Democratic candidates yet having no chance whatsoever at the nomination.

To sum things up, we have a cat fight on our hands. Or at least half a cat fight. As the party faithful begin to wonder can Hillary stop the gaffes and can Bill stop butting in and can the Clintons in fact win, many are looking at who else could go up against Rudy and Mitt. Mark these words: watch out for a late surge by Dennis Kucinich. You heard it first from me.

On the other side, it’s Rudy and Mitt and sometimes John. Yet these guys are much more sociable, likable and less belligerent than their counterparts. Part of this trio’s confidence derives from the fact they’ve got tons of dirt on the Clintons and it will be a mud fest. It looks like John just didn’t quite put it all together and it will be Rudy and Mitt or Mitt and Rudy.

About a year out the polls are showing a dead heat between frontrunners The Clintons and Rudy. Most Republicans wonder why they are so close and most Demos are starting to squirm a la 2000 and 2004.

If enough progressives bolt from The Clintons and the ultra right rally around a pro-choice candidate, Rudy stands a good chance. Out here in California we would call Rudy an Arnold Republican. At this point there are no serious Independents although Ralph Nader may jump in if he feels The Clintons can win.

OK I hear you shouting and demanding to know where I stand and I’m going to tell you simply because I can. I have been a lifelong registered Democrat. I have not always voted Democrat and even voted once for Ross Perot. I can’t remember ever having voted a straight ticket.

Right now I’m undecided between Obama, Mitt and Kucinich. I have to give the edge to Obama as anyone that is a friend of Oprah’s is way overqualified for the job anyway.

On the Republican side I’m going with Mormon Mitt. I like the way Mitt laughs at religion but says his faith is his guiding light. It takes a real astute politician to pull that one off.

The truth of the matter is both sides have several very qualified candidates. Whether these godsends get the nomination or not is another matter. For my party, petty internal politics and bad judgment lost the past two elections. That and Al not calling for a statewide recall. And John saying he voted for the war but really didn’t…

But hey, the truth really doesn’t matter. All these cultural wars and election angsts are irrelevant. The USA is going to do what it damn well pleases because it is a free country despite who it elects!

What is strange is the statement above is humorous and silly when taken in context. Taken out of context in a country like Cuba, or Venezuela or Iran, that simple statement could land me in jail. Or worse.

So let’s laugh and have a good time and carry on but lest we forget, we get what we deserve and we deserve what we elect here in the greatest nation in the universe.

I wonder if our man Kucinich would stand up to Emperor Hugo Chavez or would he surrender in the first minute?

But alas. Eddie got caught dealing graft with former Democratic Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards and they both went down. The good Guvner went upriver for a laundry list of stuff; Eddie got banned from football. The NFL said it was normal and expected behavior for southern Democratic governors to be bathed in graft but unlike southern Democratic governors the NFL had an image to maintain. The team’s management passed on to Eddie’s sister.

We fans should have known that giving the reins over to a girl was a mistake. Being the girl that she is, she immediately turned the team over to her clueless husband, a certain mysterious Dr. York. Hence the team became infamously known as the House of York.

As I sit here at halftime in what has to be the most disastrous performance by any team in the history of Monday Night Football, I lament. As I look across the halftime stats online we tank in every single category. We don’t have one bright spot. The only categories we lead in are turnovers and penalties. At one point in the second quarter three and out was a plus since we didn’t lose yardage on penalties and/or fumble it away. Now I’m not saying the problem was with a girl mismanaging the franchise; the problem began when she turned it over to her clueless husband.

For some reason this eccentric Dr. York liked Terry Donahue, an ex-UCLA coach that never really got the program there going. I remember Terry standing on the sidelines as the Bruins lost with this befuddled look on his face. How a mediocre college performance like Terry’s translates into a superior NFL performance remains a mystery to me. As soon as Terry took over everything began to slide. Duh. The profile of nice, smart, intelligent, clear record, no tattoos was set. Unfortunately the profile was also one of ’loser’.

After a string of duds we picked Mike Nolan as coach whose father Dick was actually the Niners coach in the seventies. Everyone that knew Dick said he was the nicest fellow in the NFL and everyone respected him. He couldn’t win football games, but boy was he sure nice. Hello? Any similarities here boys?

Tonight before the game our coach Mike was quoted as saying our team has a problem but no one can seem to put the finger on just what the problem is. Hello? As I scan the halftime stats online I think I have discovered the answer! Eureka! That’s because the problem is everywhere…in every category. We just don’t stink in certain areas…we stink across the board.

Because rather than pick a dope smoking, dog fighting, ghetto blasting Hip Hopper quarterback that can play, the Niner front office thought it better to pick a clean image guy that would stay away from jail, slimy women and bad boy PR. If not a Mormon maybe playing from a Mormon state. The House of York thought that if a clean image didn’t win games at least it was well, a clean image. Or something like that. So we pick Alex Smith who in his ’blossom’ third year is on bottom of NFL stats.

Alex is such a nice young man and so well spoken. He even wore a tie as he introduced his teammates at the beginning of the show. He’s the kind of young man you want to have over for Thanksgiving to meet your daughter. He’s the kind of young man you actually trust more than you trust your daughter. And he can lose with more grace than just about anybody…

It’s as if we really don’t want to be seen trying to win because as we all know it’s not winning it’s how you play the game and moreover winning is too much about self indulgent me. So from the opening kickoff the House of York strategy is play to lose.

That’s fine. But let’s not call it competition, which is something the House of York obviously doesn’t feel very strongly about. Why indeed? How can I really ever feel really good if winning is just all about me?

Why indeed play the stupid game? Why have your foolish loyal fans slavishly following your every miscue and bonehead management decision? And more amazingly, why do we idiot fans continue to endure it?

Why? To paraphrase ex-President Clinton, we do it because we can. That, and because no matter how hard we try, some of us fans just haven’t fully adjusted to the WNBA.

At the end of the day or as we say here in Silicon Valley, the net net, there is no rule in the NFL that says a team has to win. Right after The House of York took over the Niners they authorized secret research into the most inner workings of the NFL. After compiling all the data from every game in NFL history, the House of York discovered that just as many teams lose as win. We can only imagine how healing that was to their management team.

As the season agonizingly comes to a halt we can rest assured that our guys will be the most articulate at optimistically explaining our infinitesimal chances for winning any games next season. But you really have to admit that we do it with such class…

As a parent you ’know’ and feel it’s the public school’s responsibility to teach kids English. That is what you are led to believe. In fact, there is a law in California that prohibits schools from teaching in Spanish. Well, most of the time. If the parents petition the school they can get a waiver that allows the student to attend classes half of the time in English and half in Spanish.

If the average student is actively participating in English class only 10% of that half time, then that means the average Spanish speaking student is actively involved in learning English from 15 to 20 minutes a day. No Saturdays, Sundays, Fourth of July, Cinco de Mayo or summer vacation. What results can we expect from such a shortsighted strategy?

When a child enters public schools they are given an English proficiency test. Those that pass go on to regular classes conducted in English. Those that don’t pass go into a class with other Spanish speakers. Students in this class will stay there until their English becomes proficient enough to enter regular class or ’mainstream’ or they drop out.

At the Pajaro Valley Unified School District in Central Coast California this English proficiency process can take from four to six years. That means that if a non-English speaking student enters the first grade they will not be mainstreaming until sometime after the fourth grade. Maybe until Junior High or Middle School. By the time the child is that far behind they get frustrated and often give up. What happened to No Child Left Behind? Many drop out and their prime cause of failure is lack of English. They are not mentally handicapped as the current system implies.

It seems everyone involved has a stake in maintaining this Twilight Zone status quo. The students like it because learning English is very hard. The parents like it because they can reassure themselves that it is the school’s responsibility and it’s doing a good job. The teachers like it because it’s easier. The administrators like it because they can demonstrate everyone is doing the best they can and the standardized test scores somehow show it. The school boards like it as long as they get compliance and continued funding. The Latino politicians and community leaders don’t have to take a stand and show their record on English.

While English is mandated in No Child Left Behind it is not regulated. There are no guidelines. That’s because it is a State regulated issue. In California, with billions in State Education funds, all those bright folks in the California Department of Education and all those six figure PhDs can’t figure out what English proficiency is so they push the decision down to school districts like the Pajaro Valley Unified School District.

Clearly the PVUSD is struggling. The school board, a group of well meaning citizens, had to hire a newspaper reporter to give bimonthly reports on board activities. It’s not that the Board is collectively stupid. One of the members is an executive in a large corporation. They are all bright and caring folks. They just endlessly bicker, have other agendas and some are clueless. They either do not understand the gravity of the situation or are simply not willing to stand up and defend the very kids they were elected to represent.

They buy all the excuses. They buy the argument that culture and diversity and self esteem are more important than getting down and dirty and learning English the way non-English speakers always have. They agree with many of the politicians, intellectuals, advocates and teachers that Spanish speaking kids have bruised egos and shouldn’t be overstressed by being forced to learn English. The result is Spanish speaking kids are put in special ’English Proficiency’ programs and treated as if they were disabled or handicapped.

Stress? Self-esteem? On what planet are these well meaning folks coming from?

Stress is going to a job or college interview and being told come back when you have improved your English. Stress is having a co-worker get the promotion you wanted because you couldn’t speak English well enough. Stress is not being able to go to Junior College until you learn English. Stress is having to disappoint your parents by following them to work in the fields.

The emperor is wearing no clothes. The system is flawed, broken and cannot be fixed by changing ’standards’ or inventing more tests. Or more focus groups. No committees or online discussion groups can fix it. No need in throwing more money at this black hole or fooling ourselves that everything remains ’muy bueno.’ From Governor Arnold on down everybody passes the buck until there is no accountability. The buck is passed down and down until it stops with a school board that can’t even write its own reports let alone understand that English is the showstopper.

These are the facts: a moderately intelligent Spanish speaking student can learn a basic conversational English of about 2500 words in six months and be conversationally fluent in one year.

English? To paraphrase Mexican author B. Traven and Latino American playwright Luis Valdez: English? We don’t need no stinking English!

Well, maybe the politicos and community leaders and Latino intellectuals don’t need any stinking English. But for Spanish speaking Latino kids in California, English is their opportunity showstopper. It’s time Latino leaders stand up, acknowledge this fact and fix it. It’s time English becomes the priority. California’s Latino Spanish speaking school children deserve better from their own ’raza’. And California deserves better…

Basta!

That day in 1989 I was heading to get some hamburgers for the start of Game One when it hit. I had left early for the game but a number of employees were still in the building when it struck. My first thought was they had to be under the rubble and after checking on my family, I raced downtown.

Downtown Santa Cruz was devastated and I believe ten died; most buried under the rubble of unreinforced buildings over 50 years old. All our people were safe. But business was never the same.

That night we camped out in our backyard as the aftershocks continued. At about 3:00 I took off my shoes and stood barefoot on the ground. It was quivering like a bowl of Jell-O.

Just the other day my neighbor and I were recounting the post earthquake days. Some people took it very hard and actually got depressed even though no one in their family was hurt and the damages to their property were minimal. Why did some people just breeze right through it and others need months and years of counseling to cope?

And how could all this be? If there was ever anything in the universe that was secure it had to be terra firma or the ground beneath our very feet. At least that’s what I thought up until then.

At that precise moment my perception was forever changed. No longer would I ever assume that the earth was solid beneath my feet. I knew that at any moment it could jump and roll and turn to a liquid nightmare. I don’t worry about it but I know it can happen at anytime. And if the ground beneath my feet cannot be counted on, what can?

We just don’t know when Al-Qaeda will attack, a drunk driver will hit us or the ground will turn liquid. How can we be presumptuous enough to feel we can avoid these and numerous other threats and risks to our security? Will the United Nations Security Council keep me and mine secure? And how about Social Security? And the National Security Council? Homeland Security? The security net

Helen Keller said that security does not exist in nature and therefore does not exist in mankind. We build bigger fences, more elaborate alarms and even hire "Security" companies to help us keep what we got because it seems there are a lot of folks out there that want what is not theirs. They don’t want you and me to have security and to pay higher prices.

"It’s a war and the shoplifters and crooked employees will steal everything," says Armand Aranda of Enterprise Protective Services. "Losses can approach 10%. These people are nuts; it’s like they’re crazy and angry. At that point the actual viability of the business is compromised. Employee theft can reach 50% of total theft; we’ve caught them loading up their pick-ups."

Great. So we have met the enemy and he’s us. Our own people selling us out; sort of how Dog must have felt after he got shafted. How do we secure ourselves from ourselves? Do we call the security guard on ourselves? Code Blue, hurry quick, we’re stealing from ourselves! Did Dog think he was secure?

So you see, there really is no security. When we feel secure we should start worrying because that is when Al-Qaeda or the Extremist Supremist Utopian groups do their harm. Actually we would be doing ourselves a favor by not getting too comfy. Like Dog you never really know who ends up coming after you…

"It’s bad enough when it’s your employees," laments Aranda, "but think what it’s like when we have a video of your family stealing from your business."

My family? Egads. I never thought of that. One more security worry. Maybe the wife is stealing from me and I don’t know it. She’s definitely smart enough to figure out a way to drain me dry. You know, go through my wallet when I’m asleep and that sort of thing. Maybe I need to hire a security company. I’d have to get her permission first. Better not wake her up and ask her about it just yet. She probably would not be pleased.

"Security, that’s a good one" she would laugh, "after roaming the world through all kinds of adventures and ups and downs you actually think I need security? What would I do with this security of yours when the Big Shaker hits? Will it protect my store from looters?" She would have a point there. And she would laugh until tears ran down her cheeks.

On second thought maybe I won’t mention the security thing just yet. We sensitive guys need to make sure the timing is just right, no? And not do stupid things that can compromise what little security we may have. Because you never know when your family will start stealing from you, the vandals will ransack your store and the ground will turn to Jell-o.

What me worry? Security? Anyway, what would I do with it if I actually had it?

California, world economic powerhouse that it is, will be brought to its knees by an ecological disaster of previously unknown proportions. The simple fact is California is going dry. Everybody knows this. We use more water than we have, if that’s possible. The purpose of this article is to establish the parameters for the official closing of the State of California and the opening of California National Park.

To set the stage, let’s look at a little background. If there is one thing we Californians have it is taste. We always have. The rest of the country may be stuck in chicken fried steaksville but we have organic bean curd. California has always set the style scene; just look at Beverly Hills and East LA. Let’s face it, we in California are just hot stuff and everybody everywhere knows it.

The Good Folks in Omaha or Birmingham that aren’t so hip plant puny little flower gardens with stuff like roses and petunias. We affluent and not so affluent Californianos plant the whole damn jungle. We call it the whole damn jungle because it is. Look at Eddie Murphy’s house. You don’t see puny petunias at Eddie’s house. It’s all green; just like the jungle.

"Jungle landscape is not native", says Ken Foster of Terra Nova Ecological Landscaping.

Uh-oh Eddie. When mandatory water rationing hits his barrio Eddie will have to decide which plants or lawns he can water and which he can’t. Of course he could truck in water or maybe not take showers anymore. Or not do laundry. But with Eddie’s bucks he could use Perrier.

I’m not sure how funny Eddie would find that joke; Perrier is not cheap. Is it all doom and gloom?

"We’re hearing the buzz from home buyers," says Foster, "they don’t want a landscape they will have to turn around and replace. Landscapes can run into the tens of thousands of dollars."

Now the eco guy is talking. What we Californians understand most is dollars. Dollars is us. So reading between the lines what it means is an eco landscape is worth more than a dead traditional lawn and dead garden landscape. Uh-oh. Eddie just lost Five Big Ones off his pad’s assessed value.

Now a few heads are turning. Show me the money. If there is one thing we really do understand in California it’s money. And dollars. We understand dollars too.

We understand that a lot of those dollars are in Sacramento where special interests are sparring for a piece of California’s water pie. A lot is at stake. Actually everything is at stake. With no water California turns into a bad Mel Gibson movie and a great National Park.

A big piece in this poker pot is agriculture. A farm is like a car wash in that neither works very well without water. Farmers and Ag interests will continue to fight with suburbs and cities for dwindling water supplies. And water bills keep going up. Is Ag them or us? Somewhere something has got to give.

Unfortunately for us the first thing to give is Government. Government here is laying a big egg all around. Greedy Gridlock is clearly not the answer. Our two political (not people) parties have opposing solutions that involve different scenarios for carving up the water supply pie.

What about us? We meekly inquire.

They’ve even stopped denying they are manipulated by special interests. It doesn’t matter. Nobody wants to stand up. Nobody wants the hot potato. Nobody except folks like Terra Nova Ecological Landscaping crying out in the suburban jungle wilderness.

So most likely we will end up doing nothing of substance to prepare for this approaching Armageddon. Government will wait until we run out of water and then form a committee.

Some of us will welcome the opportunity to catch rain in buckets and not use toilets or shower anymore. Maybe do like the birds and flop around in the dust. There’s a few of those types already camped out in the mountains outside Santa Cruz.

Others like Eddie Murphy will have to sacrifice and cut down the size of their front lawns to 125 acres or less. Families in Turlock and Hollister will become skilled in the finer art of the sponge bath. Farmers from Watsonville and Delano will load up their tractors and head for Oklahoma and Georgia in search of land with water.

California will be declared a new national park and school kids can see the remnants of Disneyland on their field trips. Children, don’t forget your water bottles.

You laugh and think the joke about Eddie Murphy feeding his lawn Perrier during an extended drought is funny. I think it’s funny too. But the very next time you turn on the faucet just think of what it would be like if nothing came out. A Perrier with that shave, monsieur?

Think of the price of a head of lettuce at $9.00, a one day school week and zero golf. Nada. Water, water where hast thou gone? What kind of twilight zone is this?

Welcome to California National Park! And please, don’t forget to bring your water bottles, kiddies.

You just know how those places charge so much for everything once you get inside…