Chapter 2
I remember the county. It’s not really personal with them, nothing is..unless you make it that; but it always feels personal, even though, when you break it down it’s not, the devil is in the details. And it’s only about the money; it’s always been about the money, and power over the underserved to subjugate, and achieve the goal of increasing wealth..without being caught. In a way it’s subtle; until you’re there in their claws. The destruction of dreams is merely a by-product of material ambitions and raw greed with the county; and their soft totalitarianism, coupled with efficient bureaucratic methods of confiscating personal property, for fun and profit..constantly evolving, adapting. That’s the county in a nut-shell, County of San Bernardino. Here’s some names: Supervisor Barbara Reardon – who resigned from scandals – followed by Dennis Hansberger, who mastered the art of Clean/Dirty Politics (they got help with their oppressions from Congressman Jerry Lewis..the big guy); There was a Sheriff Gary Penrod and another one before him whose name escapes me for now, but he (famously..Floyd Tidwell!) gave guns from out of the evidence lock-up to all his friends, and when it was noticed – as a remedy – amnesty was offered to anyone who voluntarily surrendered the illegal weapons..the ‘honor’ system, SB County style. If memory serves, one or two pistols were (anonymously) returned, of over 500 missing items that were known to have disappeared; and no further action followed. It’s been much the same with all insider rapprochements when crimes, such as murder, even, are involved. It just seems with The County, to me at least, that certain individuals are above the law. And here, an interesting distinction arises, concerning those who are not granted such special accommodations in this regard, just the everyday folks, as you might call them; guys like me and Steve, to give you some vivid examples of how this works.
At the local level there’s lots more names: Fire Chief’s like Brad Laine, and Van Leuven (you can look up the crook who’s currently in charge); Directors, like (all these names I forget) elected to the Community Services District which is our only voter decided body in this unincorporated area of the county of San Bernardino..cultural wasteland; which, by the way, is touted as being the largest county in the country; and then the Grunts! code enforcement sinecures and their handlers, charged with maintaining order for the real estate and related interests in a sea of unregulation, a sort of ‘Wild West’ called Big Bear City, which is a No-go zone for the unprotected, in terms of gang culture. How do I spell San Bernardino? M-A-F-I-A..so there’s that. Blood, sweat, and tears the daily menu, soup du jour. But I’m out of coffee. When we first moved up here, we had our dream to have an espresso-bar/art gallery happening place in the heart of Bear City and it was called the Fine Arts Cafe; until we discovered that after all the fees and licenses, and inspections by the various agencies and everyone, and their permits, with no guarantee, by the way that we would even get the desired clearance without paying a few of the non-enumerated extra charges, called bribing the official..and in all cases, as we were quickly learning, an uncertain outcome with the powers that bees. At best. So with that sobering realization we immediately modified, regrouped the troops, and gave away the coffee, NO CHARGE saving the bundle it would cost us..way more than we could ever make back in our lifetime’s (playing by the rukes). Our sign – it said ART! it used to say “EAT” a gift from my father-in-law’s erstwhile fast-food drive-up – flashed furiously at the flow of the traffic, driving past us through the snow..causing snow blindness for some. I was freshly dropped out of USC/SOFA (School of Fine Art), four classes short to get my bachelor’s degree, and we landed with our moving truck and feet on the ground, running..running into small-town politics hell. I left out names of the local ‘heavies’, foot soldiers like Marge MacDonald and hench-person Schatz, the coke-sniffing code enforcement assistant to Marge, Marge, the Father of modern Code Enforcement. I think that racket got created by The Powers just to deal with us after we got there. Anyway, the sun is getting higher above the hills now, the same sun that years ago looked down on Steve, pitilessly! stopped by a rotten CHP in our parking-lot that cold December day, taken out of his root-beer brown Cadillac, perfunctorily handcuffed, and rudely transported to the local Big Bear Lake lock-up..on charges of monkeying with his tags, so he could drive – undetected it was hoped – in the wake of having his drivers’ license revoked by DMV (department of motor-nazis) because of his bad eyes; and all of the rest of it.
MEANWHILE..OUTSIDE OF OUR HOLE-IN-THE-WALL MOUNTAIN HIDE-OUT, down at the liberties-crushing county ground floor (the actual seat of power), Jeff Wright, Esq., and a small band of merry resistors, had, for some time, been heckling the County Supervisors at their monthly meetings, a forum for the flow of county business, hashing out details of local proposals to VOTE! the rubber-stamp on various kickback schemes for the benefit of a few. These meetings, ostensibly, are accessible to the public as provided for, Constitutionally, and specifically by the Brown Act; and in, for, and around the County of San Bernardino violations of the Brown Act by the local officials and their selected cronies are conspicuously common, routine, even! and, for them, are like Mother’s milk; however, space not permitting, here, we shall agree for now that these encroachments are numerous as flies of summer, in and around the backyard chicken-coop. But, if I still may have the floor, I will merely quote the California First Amendment Coalition’s summation, in brilliant, lawyerly terms accompanying their annual Black Hole Award earned that year by the San B. County, quote: A county like no other, where a citizen’s insistence on gaining the attention of an official risks greater loss of liberty than an official’s readiness to accept contractors’ favors (end of quote). This would seem to be in reference to Jeff Wright and his cohorts after the fact of their being effectively banned from attending the meetings; while paying a veneer of obeisance to the Brown Act. Jeff and the Family pulled a lot of nice stunts at these deals, like every month, at some point waving a time worn copy of the Magna Carta in the faces of these nat-zee’s, and some nicely timed, just plain hysterical outbursts, and mostly out of order..a minor violation of legal decorum that had gone overlooked until such time as a plan to correct them had been cobbled together by the elected officials; and having finally had enough of it, –and a plan in place, the supervisors arranged for Mr. Wright to be the focus of some bogus charge of getting closer than one hundred feet to a supervisor, in violation of a fake restraining order they had dummied up with a county judge, sympathetic to their need. Wright wrongly got sentenced to 18 months for all his trouble, annoying the tyranny’s and what-not. When Hansberger was aksed for a response to that action, he had coyly responded that the sentence seemed to him “a little” harsh; however our supervisor did not intervene to suggest a more appropriate corrective penalty for the offense to the county, so there, in Rancho Cucamonga’s central jail, Jeff languished for most of the full term of the 18 months; until an unexpected early release happened, and he was temporarily breathing the free air again, only to be re-arrested at his girlfriend’s house – with a search warrant! – and returned to County Jail to serve the remainder of his sentence; because his early release had been an accident, in error..so they said.
But the upshot in all of it was yet another revelation of how low the county can sink to make a mockery of Constitutional law, and our supposed egalitarian system..of such. Error or whatever, the warrant had stipulated that the executors of the search were searching for an alleged cassette tape containing a suspected illegally recorded conversation between the erstwhile inmate, his g.f., and..the dog-catcher! If you think politics halts at the steps of the county dog-pound you better think again. That, as a matter of fact, is where they tend to become most visible (dealing with the Animal Control). We will review my own experiences concerning* that at a future point in this, nostalgic reverie..reverie, in waking consciousness, an emotionally stirring review of events past, evoking phantoms, alternately charming, or horrifying (depending which). But at this juncture, I have to take us – me and you readers, if so there bee’s any – down a rabbit-hole because of what has just occurred and is now a so-called ‘hot’ situation..hot on my heart, that is; and just for a time-stamp, this is contemporaneous with the recent school shootings in Texas, which no doubt the democrats have something to do with..they, if they did not pre-plan it, will certainly use it to foment hostility against conservative people’s who still understand The US Constitution is our last best hope to retain the semblance of a once bullet-proof and resilient Republic. But I digress.
A top-of-the-morning topic at our house having to to with the aforementioned dept. of motor-nazis, has been, in the last week, pertaining to the business of a car registration..a sordid matter in all cases! (with booby-traps). This staple in the lifestyle of all southern Californians, to wit, driving YOUR car within their framework of their so-called legality (see Schaeffer vs. the State of CA for more on the origins of automotive terrorism by the DOM, and their depredations against modern civilization by the winnowing of personal enumerated liberties), used to be a relatively simple matter to have taken care of..so you fix it, and it’s handled; and you don’t have to worry. Not now, ‘The Fix’ is on. They have taken great pains to ensure that every turn of the dice at the window gets CRAPS! for a result. There is now no way you can’t lose. So, this morning, when Mary went to act on the urgent matter of the 99 Camry’s registration..which is far more than minorly complicated in each of several ways, all of which birthing from smog requirements by the state of Commiefornia and sister fascists, the EPA! she opened a can of worms, a can of DMV worms that proceeded to signal an intention to start eating us out of house and home (the worms..as usual). To explain it all is like the early days of writing a computer program when there was no platform already available and it was like blazing new trails into some kind of virtual b.s. with each algebraic line following the previous one; and you better have your dot-commies all in a row. When we used to share our miseries, RE:THE GOVERNMENT with our dearly departed and most loyal and sympathetic friend Steve, he would listen intently without interrupting, letting the last words of the narrative detailing our entry in the soulless lines leading to the holocaust of Big Brother’s regulatory demands fade into the cosmos of undetectable reverb, beyond the ability of the human ear, –then would follow a solemn silence, thoughtful and reasoned; and next, looking me earnestly in the eye – the good one, on my left side – he would invariably utter these two words: THOSE BASTARDS! Later on, though, as Steve looked past this mortal coil, gazing upon eternity..separated by a yawning chasm dropping into the abyss..he would say simply, and with all circumspect sincerity of soul; and minus his trademark edgy, growling inflections..half whispered, “My goodness.” It was a startling change, but a needful one; as our Saviour the Lord Jesus Christ commands us to forgive our enemies. Well I only had just about every surgery known to man, and more than once! (sometimes, whole arrays of them going in time, after time) but I’m not yet fully prepared to go yet..so let me dwell on DVM a little longer (those mangey mutt’s!) And no, “I’m not f_____g f_____g around!” How about that for utility? a dual use of the F-word in a adjective-verb combination, back to back; and a direct quuote attributed to a local wigger named Kathy, Kathy Chandler, a.k.a., ‘Leather’ Kathy, or Kathy the wigger who I came to head-buttings with over a local rental situation on the main drag, the Boulevard, the fabulous Strip! there in Bear City back in the days when renting was simpler, relatively; and landlords were burned routinely. She had for her KUSTOM leather work a solitary VIKING sewing machine she was very proud of and which Burris, the shoe repair and leather guy mocked unreservedly, implying it was for ‘light’ duty only..i.e., it was a girls’ rig; which also connects us to a whole bunch of other crap in a series of events starting just outside the gate of that property, including illegal aliens and a traffic collision; from taking short-cuts driving their Camaro on the shoulder to my outside, towing a junk trailer and energetically arm signaling my right turn, -SCRUNCH! anchor-babies-in-waiting, and their mexican mafia buddy’s harassing phone-calls to try and collect for damages to the car, you name it; plus a FREE used refrigerator for a consolation-prize to the newlywed’s, once, having studied the CHP report it..contradicted my initial impression I was at fault, to which, at the scene of the accident, involving emotions, I had hastily agreed to..that, incorrect analysis but now, his responsibility being certified by law enforcement, I realized I was not culpable, for the wreck, nor financially beholden to the migrants; and, in light of my innocence, reneged..but, as a gesture of good will gave ’em the fridge. Another day in paradise. But I digressed.
So for todays business with dmv, we found, when we found we were late on re-renewing our current invalid non-registration status – I’ll get to that – we discovered that they had no record of our late payment – with penalties! – from last year (because they no longer send you a courtesy renewal notice and bill for the amount they require so that one may enjoy legal status while operating one’s vehicle on the public streets and roads of the state of California; and also carrying documemtation that you possess the proper, government proscribed personal insurance policy, offered at no small cost to thee consumer, so that when you are T-boned by an illegal alien migrant hispanic used to driving in their foreign country, not mindful of such legal niceties, whom, when confronted by law enforcement in such situations is quickly dismissed with no further need of anything, “Si, senior!”..according to an unofficial yet far reaching and established policy, honored statewide among law enforcement agencies in the empire of disparities for the legal working class citizen, –in the event of such contingency).
So! Mary’s on the phone, now that we’ve caught up with the realization that we are once again going to be robbed by the imposition of a bogus late penalty, to register a car we can’t legally operate; because it needs some mysteries solved before it can pass smog! because they don’t send renewal notices no more, and if you forget where you’re at before the renewal deadline..your dead meat. DMV how do I hate thee! let me count the ways. And by the way I am not a hater; because if everybody that hates the DVM is a hater then that is probably everyone of us here in California who, consumed with hate, –for the IDEA! are impotently raging because of no other emotional outlet, and most likely including a sizable number from the rank and file of the DMV it’s self..if the truth be told. So she’s talking to Tripple-AAA. They have a simulated DMV window to bypass all the crap you encounter when you go to an actual dmv office. You, the member, at AAA, can take care of a majority of the kinds of robberies they hand you at dmv..without the unpleasantness of being in their building; but this morning, at the other end of the telephone lines they are pecking at their computer and not seeing any record of the transactions in question that were paid in order so that we could not drive the car; because SMOG. And, you know, it’s been a year since the last theft happened at their hands, so our memories is foggy – don’t drive in fog!! So the bottom line is WE OWE A BIG BOTTOM LINE assuming we didn’t pay the registration for the last two years; and can’t prove it..BY THEM. You probably, like, are all going, like, “Well why didn’t you just non-op it instead of payinf for registration and insurance for two years..when you couldn’t even drive the car (legally) BECAUSE SMOG. DON’T AKS!! So AAA, at this point can’t handle it, it’s too special for them, and we are advised to make an appointmwent – on-line – with DMV
So anyway, that’s the wall we back away from and Mary starts the process of locating any of the paperwork concerning this to document we did pay the last two years, so we don’t just have to have them dig us a hole we can drive the car in and watch them bulldoze us under a nice blanket of warm, southern Californian dirt; because the back registration fees are astronomical allowing no wiggle room to be able to pay them; which is how millions of us Californian’s lose our cars every year! (Well, one of the ways, it gets even creepier when you get into all the variants.) So there’s the ways to cross-check: Bank-book records, she always pays with a check (not found); DMV-AAA paperwork (nope); bank records on-line, –ZIP! on all of that. So she sends me down to the auto, to check the contents in the glove-box and i return with a hand-full of paper for her to start going through; and suddenly! there it is..the evidence. They are wrong, we paid it. But maybe showing them that will only make them mad; and then they’ll come back at us seven other ways, and our last state is worst than the forst..Right?? (probly) Well, that’s enough of that. There’s lots more, but what is the profit in any of it? So that’s just look at what happened this morning, and if they accept our proof from their own printer, we only owe a month’s late fee, to..re-re-reregister a car we still can’t drive. Still, it costs less than going non-op with them in some cases (we learned that lesson from our JEEP experience). We’ll see. Now where were we? and what about the Pinto? the 1974 Pinto wagon in the garage up on blocks for ten years that used to cost $24 bucks to register it, and last time i checked they factored in a multiplier of X5 on it (24.00X5; or actually, a little more than that if you did the math, correctly, there’s +a fraction, the cents part..and a couple of bucks).
TO BE CONTINUED, WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT, MEANWHILE..HERE’S A HAIKU
Steve, me
Church, and poor people
give the food, get abuse..God
Good!
Steve and me we worked together. His jobs, my jobs, their jobs. We worked at the church pantry. It was pleasant. Mostly. Pastor always makes you be nice to mean people, something about not returning evil for evil, but doing good, no matter to whom. Anyway, there was some episodes that seem funny in hindsight.
Scruffy's..Blurgh! 