I Picked Up My First Hitchhiker Today

A Long Drive

He always dreaded the trip back home. Not being home, of course. But just driving there. It was a 9-hour drive from Mississippi to Kentucky, and all he had to keep him company was the satellite radio and the stack of 100 CDs at his feet. He always silently thanked a heavenly power before each trip for even having the choice of music to play, much less 100 funky jams he's been collecting since high school and XM's myriad music stations. And today was a Saturday, and a Saturday on Labor Day weekend means college football. So if all else fails, at least there'd be a game to listen to while making the monotonous slog up the interstate.

There were only two choices he could make- either take the I-20 East to Birmingham and then ride the I-65 North all the way up to his hometown's exit, or take I-55 North to Memphis, I-40 East to Nashville, and ride the 65 the rest of the way. The 55 route was a smidge longer, but at least he felt like he was getting somewhere. That trip was in three legs, while the I-20/I-65 route was just an endless stretch of concrete for hours and hours, before an even more endless stretch of concrete. For an energetic and easily-distracted guy like him, the best trip was the one with the most turns and most cities to drive through. So he made the decision to take the Memphis route.

It was about 11 AM CDT, and he figured that accounting for the time zone change, he'd be home by 9 or so if he drove the speed limit. He sipped his mug of coffee and riffed through his CD stack before settling on Too Short's "Get In Where You Fit In," the loud, explicit rap lyrics pleasantly blasting from his open windows into the tamed suburban ears of his tame, suburban neighbors. The trip may be a long one, but good music, as always, will ultimately prevail.

He sang along to the insanely outrageous lyrics until all of the album's good songs had been played, and he casually pressed eject, waiting for the CD to pop out while using his free hand to turn the XM knob to the blues station. The air conditioning was starting to slightly chill the tips of his nose and fingers, so he shut it off and pressed the DOWN button on the power windows instead, both driver and passenger side.

Muddy Waters' "Big Leg Woman" blared over the car speakers, and he then shifted his free hand to the sunroof and pressed down on the rooftop button until the sunroof had fully extended outward.

There, much better.

He somehow couldn't stand the closed-off feeling of a car when all the windows were rolled up and the sunroof not in use, especially on a beautiful Southern Summer morning like this one. He turned the stereo up as loud as it could go, and unabashedly crowed out Muddy Waters' lyrics while others drove by, ogling.

It would always surprise him that other people were so serious in their cars all the time, especially by themselves. The way he saw it, if you can't have fun and let loose in your own car with nobody in there but you, then when can you ever be free? Why were people so serious while driving? Why weren't they also blasting their favorite tunes, singing loudly and foolishly, belting out their own harmonies with nobody else to judge them? And more importantly, why are people judging other drivers having fun behind the wheel? Whether it was at a red light or on the interstate, he always found it quite off-putting that whenever he looked at a passing driver while in the midst of musical reverie, they always had an astonished "well-I-never" sort of expression. He felt life was too short to be so unhappy all the time. If you've got good music, enjoy it. Wanna dance in your seat at a red light? Play air guitar? Drum along to that drum solo? Go for it. And screw anyone else who hates on you for having fun in your own vehicle.

He'd been on the road for about three hours at this point, and was getting near Memphis. Usually a little after passing through Memphis was when he made his first bathroom break/fillup of the long way home. The line marking how much fuel was left in the tank lingered just under the 1/4 mark. Maybe another hour or so to go before the next fillup. He wasn't in any hurry. It was a beautiful day, and he wouldn't be home until nightfall. Maybe he'd stop for food before getting to Memphis- the next exit had a chinese buffet close by. Eat at one of those around one, and he'd be good until 9 that night.

A Long Walk

At a gas station outside of Memphis, Tennessee, the man giving young Dillon a ride from Little Rock opens the door of his truck, and steps outside to pump. Dillon sighs, runs a hand through his hair, slings his backpack over his shoulder, puts Ruby in the re-usable Wal-Mart tote bag, and thanks the man who drove him Eastward on the I-40.

It was a brutally hot one today; the heat index had to be in the nineties, which shouldn't be happening in September. Back in Maine, where Dillon was from, even the hottest August days rarely reached 80. And even then, there was always a cool breeze blowing down from Canada. Here in the South, all Dillon had to go with the oppressive heat was the sweltering humidity; the sun pounded down upon his long hair and pale face, while the black asphalt, reeking of a fresh layer of tar, blasted the heat collected from the sun upwards into Dillon's makeshift denim shorts, which used to be jeans once upon a time.

To make matters worse, poor Ruby looked up at him with those adorable 4 month-old puppy dog eyes and whimpered as they set out on foot from the gas station to the exit ramp. She was a trooper, and could walk for about a mile or so before simply stopping, cocking her head, and whimpering for Dillon to pick her up and carry her more. She made for good company on the road, and was extremely protective. The nights he spent sleeping in the woods were a little easier with her love and comfort, and safer too, as she growled when even a squirrel came within a 30-foot range of her master. Ruby was also the deciding factor in a carload of 17 year-old girls picking up the 21 year-old long-haired hitchhiker with the smelly green t-shirt, torn jeans and scraggly beard. He loved his dog, and she loved him.

Dillon found out right away that Tennessee was not the friendliest state toward hitchhikers. It was somehow even worse than Spokane, where the police officer had told him straight away while waiting on the ramp that if he came by again and he was still trying to hitch a ride, he'd be arrested and jailed. At least in Spokane, people acknowledged Dillon's existence. In Memphis, Dillon had been lucky to even get a bird flipped at him from drivers passing by on the ramp. He did his best to make sure people saw that he was wearing a backpack, meaning that he had some semblance of a destination in mind and had made preparations for the trip. He also made sure people saw Ruby. He figured having a cute puppy in his arms would make drivers more apt to at least slow down and look.

After more than an hour in the oppressive Tennessee heat, Dillon decided to start walking. Maybe people at the next exit ramp were a little friendlier. Surely they would react to the puppy, and be more receptive to Dillon's best attempts to look non-threatening. The walk started off optimistic; Dillon didn't bother sticking his thumb out. The drivers whizzing by at 70 miles per hour, even if they were the kind of folks who picked up strangers, just didn't have the means to pull over immediately, let Dillon aboard, and merge back into the path of thousands of cars traveling at 100 feet per second.

One mile became two. Two miles became four, and five, and then six. Dillon passed another ramp, but this one didn't have any nearby gas stations or restaurants, so trying to thumb a ride there would likely be futile. The heat only seemed to build in intensity. The cars that flew by only cast more warm air at him, his matted, oily hair becoming more disheveled, Ruby huddling deep inside of the bag, the sound of the monstrous diesel engines of the 18-wheelers undoubtedly making her squirm.

All Dillon wanted was to get home to his parents; this trip had been three or so years off and on, from East Coast to West Coast and back. His open-minded New England family was surprisingly encouraging when he told them of his plans to see the country via hitchhiking and depending completely on the hospitality and altruism of total strangers. Sure, there were come creeps out there, but Dillon's friends who had hitchhiked before just told him to trust his gut. If the driver who wants to pick you up seems like the kind of guy who would rape, stab and rob you, then don't get in. If it's too dark, pitch your bedroll and find a scattering of trees out of sight from where anybody would see you. Drink lots of water. He'd be just fine, they all said. And so since age 18, Dillon had enjoyed his life on the road. It was somewhat stressful not knowing how or when your next meal would come, but it was also incredibly liberating to be off the grid, to not pay rent, to not worry about day-to-day obligations with which the career-oriented folks were consumed. And every once in a while, Dillon would make it back home to Maine, and always had a bed to sleep on, family to love on him, plenty of food to eat, and familiar faces around the community. He hadn't been home since May, and the last few months had been especially trying.

By mile thirteen, Dillon's energy and patience had slowed to a trickle. It was mid-afternoon, and Dillon's body ached from the walk. His water jug had emptied around the ten-mile mark, and his thighs started to chafe from the same boxer shorts rubbing the insides of his legs raw. His belly rumbled, but his pockets were empty. He felt like he should be sweating more considering the weight on his back and the convection oven of heat he was trudging through, being attacked on all sides, from above and below, by triple-digit temperatures. Nobody even showed the slightest interest in even slowing down, let alone stopping.

He finally stopped on a ramp just outside of an Exxon station outside of Memphis. It was still another 50 or 60 miles to Jackson, TN from here. Easy. All he wanted to do was get to Knoxville; his map showed that there was a road there that connected to I-69, and if he hopped on that, he could miss Virginia entirely and head straight to Pennsylvania. But first, he had to wait and hope a car getting back on the road would be willing to open its doors to a smelly stranger with a ponytail, a dog and a backpack.

Two and a half long, hot hours passed, and not one driver even looked his way. Dillon was on the verge of once again slinging his bag over his shoulder and trekking along the interstate, having to be content with making incremental progress and sleeping off a day of stomping on concrete. Would he ever get out of Tennessee?

Taking the Risk

The needle hit the empty line, and his car beeped annoyingly as his mileage meter was replaced with a message proclaiming "LOW FUEL." The driver pressed the trip reset button on the dash to clear the message, grumbling.

"I KNOW I'm out of gas, baby, just hang with me," the driver said to himself, oblivious to the absurdity of talking to machinery. The next exit was the Arlington/Collierville exit, just a few miles outside of Memphis. He figured it was good enough for a stop, as the bulk of the Memphis traffic had thinned out at this point. It was a good 50 or 60 miles to Jackson, TN from here, and it'd be another 100 or so to Nashville. And after Nashville it was easy as pie to cross over to Kentucky and drive the final leg to Elizabethtown.

The clock on his dash read 2:55 PM. It was on Central time, albeit 25 minutes later than the actual time. He figured this stop and maybe one more down the road, and he'd be home right like he'd scheduled.

He stepped out of the Saturn and briefly admired the collection of bumper stickers he had accumulated over the months thanks to the number of online grassroots issues and causes he aligned himself with. He hoped the "BOYCOTT BP" and "BP: Billionaire Polluters" stickers would serve as a healthy balance of public discourse on the road, considering the number of "DRILL HERE, DRILL NOW, PAY LESS" stickers he'd seen in Tennessee.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he impulsively bought a green tea tallboy before prepaying for gas.

"That'll be $1.08," the cashier informed him. "That gonna be all for y'all?"

"Naw," the driver replied, doing quick math in his head. "Lemme get this and...$23.92 on pump 4."

"25 even, bud." The cashier swiped his card and handed the driver his receipt, which the driver politely declined with a wave of his hand as he made his way toward the door.

The driver held his finger lossely on the pump's trigger as the gas flowed into his tank, careful not to squeeze too much air into the tank. He recalled reading somewhere that squeezing the pump too hard means more air and less gas, meaning less bang for your buck. Unemployment and bills were squeezing him pretty tight as it was, so he was content watching the numbers tick upward slower than usual. The man at the pump behind him gave him a glare as they made eye contact. The young driver told himself it was either his Mississippi license plate or one of his bumper stickers. Hell, maybe it could've been the soccer jersey he was wearing. Or maybe the guy glaring at him was just a dick.

The pump stopped at $23.92, just under 9 gallons. At 32 mpg on the highway, 9 gallons would take him almost all the way home. Awesome. The driver hung up the pump, dilaed around the XM dial to find the SEC channel where Kentucky and Louisville were facing off in the second quarter, and started off down the exit ramp.

The driver noticed right away a guy wearing a plain-looking green t-shirt, with long, greasy hair and a backpack. He was carrying a puppy in his arms. The driver remembered the words of a couchsurfer from the Czech Republic he hosted, who had made his way from New York City to Mexico by thumbing rides.

"Never pick up a guy who isn't carrying anything. Chances are likely that he's shady. But I can guarantee you that just about everybody carrying a backpack has somewhere to go, and someplace to come back to. So they aren't gonna kill you, because they actually need a ride."

Even though the driver never picked up a hitchhiker before, he felt strangely at ease as he pulled up onto the shoulder and rolled down the passenger side window.

"Where you headed, my brotha?"

"Knoxville, man," the hitchhiker said. "But I'll go wherever you're going."

"Well, I'm headed East to Nashville, and the 24 picks up there and takes you right to Knoxville. Hop in, dude!"

And with that, the hitchhiker climbed inside the Saturn, put his backpack in his lap, and cradled the puppy in his arms while the driver took off down I-40, putting more miles between them and Memphis.

"Man, thank you SO much for picking me up. You have no idea how long I waited," the hitchhiker said.

"No prob. You looked like you could use a hand. And I figure a dude carrying a backpack and a dog can't be all that dangerous. You know you're the first hitchhiker I've ever picked up?" The driver said to his new passenger.

"That's cool, man. I'm glad you did. I was seriously about to start walking down the 40. I just walked 13 miles from Memphis, dude. I'm wore out. My name's Dillon, by the way."

The driver shook his hand and told him his own name.

"What about your little buddy there?" The driver asked, scratching the tired puppy's head as she dangled it over her master's lap. "What's his name?"

"Her name's Ruby. I got her while I was on the road; there was a father and son selling a whole litter of puppies, so I got the cutest one."

"Sheeit, I'll bet that gets you all kinds of rides, eh?" The driver chided.

"It depends, man. Certainly not in Tennessee. Nobody picks up hitchhikers here. You're the first one since Little Rock."

And with that, Dillon filled in the driver on the details of his trip, how he'd chosen vagrancy and travel since age 18, and about which places were better for hitchhiker's luck, and which ones weren't. The driver sat entranced, listening to the hitchhiker's stories while he riffed through his CD collection, looking for a mix that he felt would vibe most harmoniously with Dillon's style.

Making a New Friend

"Hey man, you like the blues?" The driver asked.

"I don't know much about it, but I like what I hear so far, I guess."

The driver popped in a homemade CD, and a simple, almost tribal-sounding wailing blues guitar riff blared over the car stereo.

"This is T-Model Ford. Probably one of the coolest bluesmen still alive. He's 90 years old, doesn't remember his birthday, can't read or write, did time on a chain gang for killin' a man, and didn't pick up a guitar until he was 58."

"No shit? Where's he from?"

"Forest, Mississippi," The driver said proudly. "Mississippi's the home of the blues. Memphis tries to claim the blues and Elvis, but they got nothin', because both of those things came from The Sip. T-Model was probably one of the coolest interviews I've ever had with anyone."

Dillon asked the driver his story, and as the miles piled on the odometer, the driver told his new friend the story of him moving to Mississippi to take a job and falling head over heels in love with the state, her people and her culture in the meantime.

The CDs rotated in and out of the player, one by one, and the mid-afternoon haze steadily morphed into the milky gold of early dusk, where the sun is right in one's line of vision. The flat Western Tennessee landscape soon transformed into steady rolling hills dotted with the lightest accents of early Autumn on the very tips of some of the trees as they drew nearer to Nashville. The driver took time relaying the last few months of current events to his passenger, who sat silently as his ride prattled on about the Gulf oil spill, the state of the economy and his own projections for what would come out of the upcoming midterm elections. He told Dillon about the book he had written, and the one he planned on writing if he ended up going on a grand bohemian adventure of reckless vagrancy of his own.

At the driver's request, Dillon, in turn, filled him in on what his family was like, his part of Maine, his likes and dislikes, what he carried in his pack for a cross-country hitchhiking journey and the various blessings and hardships of life on the road. Much of the time Dillon simply spent sitting quietly, enjoying the feeling of air conditioning on his unwashed face and of Ruby's affection. Occasionally she would climb over to the driver's lap, lean against him and lick his face while he drove. The driver would eventually hand her back to her master when she started putting her paws on the steering wheel.

Before long, darkness had set in and the two had talked their way through Nashville and all the way to the Kentucky/Tennessee border.

"Hold on, I'm gonna call my boy real quick," the driver said, pulling out a cellphone.

After a short conversation, the driver informed Dillon that they would be meeting his friend at "a hellacious BBQ joint" just outside of Elizabethtown, in nearby Munfordville, just across the time zone border. Time was meaningless to Dillon, who hadn't owned a watch since age 18. After telling his ride, the driver laughed in disbelief. The driver told Dillon he thought it remarkable that two people living in the same country, speaking the same language, could have such vastly different lives.

The two made excellent time, Munfordville being their first stop since Dillon had first gotten picked up outside of the service station roughly five hours ago. Neither had been hungry or thirsty or needed to use the bathroom, and Ruby slept soundly the entire way. Dillon had a brief conversation with the driver's friend from Munfordville, while the driver walked into a small shack just off the exit ramp, sporting a sign that read "BIG BUBBA BUCK'S BELLY-BUSTIN' BBQ- TASTES SO GOOD YOU'LL SMACK YA MAMMA!"

The driver emerged carrying a sandwich wrapped in foil and a handful of napkins.

"It's pulled pork, hope you're not a vegetarian or anything," the driver said. "The barbecue here is really good, you'll see cars from all kinds of states in the parking lot here."

The air outside was much cooler, compared to the blistering mid-afternoon heat in Memphis. The driver, clad in shorts and a soccer jersey, shivered slightly. Ruby, restrained to a leash, was suddenly energetic after eating a bite of Dillon's sandwich. She jumped on the driver, eager to be petted and glad to walk around. The three of them stood outside of the restaurant, Dillon smoking a cigarette he had bummed from the driver's friend. Night had fully set in at this point, and the only lights around were the faint glow of the fluorescent lights of nearby gas stations and the moon overhead.

"Is your sleeping bag warm enough?" The driver asked. "It's a lot colder up here that it was in Mississippi this morning."

"I'm from Maine, so this is nothing," Dillon assured the driver.

After a few more minutes of conversation, the driver wished his friend well and climbed back into the car with Dillon and the puppy, heading down the road.

"So how does one hitchhike at night?" The driver asked.

"You don't," Dillon said with a polite chuckle. "You don't want to ride with anyone who would pick up hitchhikers at night, and no normal driving at night would stop to pick up a hitchhiker. I just sleep in the woods. Ruby keeps me company."

The driver put on a Jazz CD, and the two rode on in silence as the sound of ride cymbals and saxophones pierced through the night air and the steady hum of the tires on the road. Dillon watched the different signs go by as the Saturn traveled onward through Southern Kentucky- Kentucky Down Under, Horse Cave, Glasgow, Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace. The driver filled Dillon in proudly about his home state's claims to fame; the Kentucky Derby, Bourbon whiskey, fried chicken, tobacco and college basketball.

"Kentucky is a state that bases its economy and culture on gamblin', drinkin' and smokin'," The driver had said casually. "That's why we're all so crazy."

The driver maneuvered the Saturn onto exit 94, going up the ramp toward Elizabethtown. The Saturn stopped at a red light a half mile down the road, the turn signal blinking almost exactly in time with the beat of the Jazz in the background. Ruby whimpered softly in Dillon's lap, sensing that she was about to leave the comfort of the warm car where she'd been for the bulk of the day.

"This is home for me, bro. I'd say you can come on in and sleep on the couch and be warm, but I'm not sure how my parents or my cats would feel about me bringing in a hitchhiker and his dog late at night. But I'm gonna drop you off at a trailhead down the road, you should be alright there."

"Oh, don't even worry about it, man. This ride really helped me out. And all I need is a sleeping bag and some tree cover anyway," Dillon said.

And just as soon as he had climbed in the car in Memphis, Dillon climbed out, puppy in his arms, backpack on his shoulder, and opened the passenger door. The driver offered his hand and told him his name once more.

"Stay safe, bro. Hope you get back to Maine in one piece."

Dillon thanked the driver once more, and disappeared into the woods.

The People's Tax Cut: How the Democrats Can Win in 2010

Sick of the Deficit Hawks

"Deficits don't matter."
-Dick Cheney, former Vice President

Who else, besides me, is sick of hearing the far right moan and gripe about the deficit, after completely disregarding the deficit for their eight years in power? It's mind-numbing to consider the fact that Congressional Republicans cite the deficit as reason for denying the unemployed and their families the only safety net they have, along with their desire to punish the elderly with the rationing of Medicare, not to mention their goals of privatizing social security (which is funded from our paychecks, not from federal tax dollars), and leaving the financial future of my generation in the hands of highway robbers like Goldman Sachs.

However, Republicans like Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell had no problem at all turning Clinton's surplus into a multi-trillion dollar deficit with the legislation they championed. Bush's tax cuts for the wealthy, $2.5 trillion in ten years. Two wars of aggression. $1 trillion to date. The Medicare prescription medication donut hole. Another $550 billion. Not to mention their annual "cost of living" salary increases they give themselves- we may be unemployed, desperate dumpster-divers thanks to the recession that Republican policies created, but our federal lawmakers are making out like bandits.

The people have spoken- we want to stop fronting hundreds of billions of our hard-earned dollars to put a cushion under the rich, who used our money to fatten their own pockets over the last ten years instead of create jobs with the extra dough. The right's only economic plan is to continue the disastrous economic policies we had under George W. Bush. Cut spending on social welfare programs. Give millionaires even more tax cuts. By the way, this plan would add billions to the deficit, not reduce it.

The bottom line: The Republicans' desires to extend tax cuts for the wealthy is more than DOUBLE the amount spent in the Democrats' health care reform legislation.

It's time for the right to put up or shut up. One brilliant economist has come up with a way for Congressional Republicans, who wave the populist banner at every opportunity and advocate the importance of tax cuts, to eat their words.

Robert Reich calls it "The People's Tax Cut." It's a bomb the Democrats need to drop this month, in preparation for the November midterms.

The People's Tax Cut

"When the accumulation of wealth is no longer of high social importance, there will be great changes in the code of morals."
-John Maynard Keynes

Robert Reich contends that because 80 percent of Americans pay more in payroll taxes than they do in income taxes, a great number of us could do the economy a lot of good with a little more change in our pocket. His proposal is simple; eliminate payroll taxes for all income under $20,000 (the federal poverty line for a family of four is $21,874) and make up for the lost revenue by adding to the payroll taxes of all incomes over $250,000.

Even though Social Security's funds are at a $2.5 trillion surplus, benefits will have to start being decreased incrementally beginning in 2037. Which means that by the time my generation retires, we won't be getting our fair share of all the money we put in while we were working and being productive. The people's tax cut would insure our future, and it'd also be a great burden lifted from the shoulders of the working poor when they're at the most risk. The extra money in people's pockets would likely benefit local businesses, as opposed to tax cuts for the wealthy being invested overseas. It would be great fun to watch the Republicans explain why they're go against the People's Tax Cut, especially so close to the midterm election.

And if the Democrats want to show they're serious about the deficit, they need only look to eliminating the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy, and slashing military spending; these two are by far the biggest drains on federal revenue, which needs to instead be spent boosting the green energy industry, job growth in the public and private sectors, and providing more loans to small businesses and entrepreneurs. $960 billion could be slashed from the Pentagon's budget over a ten-year period by simply phasing out Cold War-era programs, putting off hastily thought-out missions and ending expensive, unnecessary weapons programs.

Everything is at stake this November; we cannot allow the Teapublicans to govern. As I explained here their brand of government is far too extreme and far too dangerous to allow them any more power than they already have. However, if the Teapublicans are soundly defeated this November, I believe we'll see the right steadily become more moderate, finally convinced that unbridled extremism only loses elections and divides the population. The key to defeating the extreme right is for Democrats to fly the populist flag and claim the moral upper hand.

Call the Capitol switchboard, right now. Pull out your cellphones, punch in (202) 224-3121, and ask for your Congressman and Senators. Leave a message at their office saying you support ending the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy, and that you support eliminating payroll taxes on the working poor.

Will you do it? More importantly, will you spread the word and get all of your friends to do it?

Our voices will not be ignored.

How climate change is burning Russia and flooding Pakistan

Disclaimer
This will not be a happy post, but it is nonetheless important, and thanks for taking the time to read it. As I stated here, I am no longer debating whether or not climate change is happening or if humanity has an effect on the climate. Like with evolution and the theory of biological reproduction, an overwhelming consensus of scientists with expertise on the subject have reached the conclusion that yes, the planet is warming, and yes, we are adversely affecting the atmosphere. And we need to move the discussion forward.

I welcome all comments, and understand that in science, new evidence can always overturn old evidence. But just like with climatologists around the Earth, the theory of anthropogenic global warming is established, and findings to that conclusion have been around since 1896. Instead of, "My oil company-funded think tanks disagree with your scientists," the discussion now needs to be, "how can we help?"

Awareness is the first step, and I like to think that's where this post comes in. Hopefully with awareness, comes action. And with action comes solutions.

August's Deadly Heat

"These are the most bitter days of my life."
-Iltaz Begum, 15 year-old Pakistani orphan

In August of 2003, 52,000 people died after a brutal heat wave that spread across Europe. In France alone, 15,000 people died, most of them elderly. Because of a usually temperate climate there, Summers are mild, and even in August, the nights are cool, so air conditioning wasn't seen as a necessity there. But combine 104-degree fahrenheit temperatures with metal and tin roofs on Parisian homes with no air condtioning, and the inside of the home becomes an oven. Bodies cooked and rotted in the August sun, some of them not collected until almost a month after the heatwave, as many government employees were on their August vacation.

In August of 2010, a brutal heat wave has left large swaths of Russia charred from unprecedented wildfires. It's been three weeks, and fires are still raging across the country. Approximately 10% of Russia's land mass was on fire at one point, and 500 conflagrations still blaze through the country's forests. So far, the wildfires have killed 50 people and torched 2,000 homes. A third of the country's wheat crop is gone, which has raised grain prices sky-high across the globe as the Russian government has temporarily banned exports.

But what is being called the worst environmental disaster to date also happened in August of 2010. While Russia burns to the north, 6 million of their neighbors in Pakistan are without a stable water supply after massive flooding destroyed homes and crippled an already unstable infrastructure. Children are without parents, left to fend for themselves in government refugee camps, while rushing waters and a continuous downpour leave 1/5th of the country underwater. 20 million Pakistanis have been affected by the flooding. It's estimated that $460 million is needed for flood relief, but only $93 million has been gathered. Pakistan is in desperate need. These floods are worse than the Haiti earthquake, worse than the 2004 tsunamis, and worse than the 2005 earthquake in the same country.

So why is all of this happening?

Climate Change Comes Home to Roost

"Life was always so difficult, but now we're doomed."
-Abdul Ghani, 14 year-old Pakistani orphan, oldest of seven siblings

Extreme weather patterns are becoming the norm. Heat waves are capable of killing tens of thousands of people used to temperate climates. And in the wintertime, 49 US states all had seen snowfall at one point. Even in Texas. Even in Florida. Even in Mississippi. Some climate change deniers said this was proof that global warming wasn't real, which as Bill Maher pointed out, is kind of like saying the sun doesn't exist at night because it's dark outside.

The millions in Pakistan are the latest of a group we'll be hearing a lot more of- environmental refugees. U.N. figures estimate there to be close to 25 million worldwide displaced because of ecological disasters. And with events like the 2004 tsunamis, flooding in Mozambique, the recent quake in Haiti, and the millions now homeless and wandering Pakistan, that number is on track and is expected to swell past 150 million in the next 40 years. And in 10 years, an ice sheet in Greenland could break off into the Arctic ocean if the temperature rises between 2C and 7C, which could happen under current rates of consumption, fossil fuel use and overpopulation. This would cause sea levels to rise by 23 feet, and that 150 million number could very well double or even triple in size should coastal cities see similar floods.

So, again, how is all of this causing the floods and the fires?

As sea levels rise with things like 100-mile ice sheets breaking off, that causes changes in the jetstream, thus changing the way winds blow. Take a look at the picture below.



On the left, you see wind patterns in the Russia/Pakistan area under normal jetstream conditions. From 1968 to 1996, these conditions remained largely the same. There's a polar jetstream on the Northern side, and a tropical jetstream on the Southern side. But in the 2010 graph, we see a very oddly strong polar wind blowing North of Russia around Moscow, going directly South into Pakistan. So how do these jetstreams affect weather patterns?

The Northern polar jetstream usually brings extratropical lows and cyclones that make up the bulk of the precipitation in that geographical region of the world, and serves as the boundary between cold Northern air and hot Southern air. When it goes suddenly Northward like this past July, that leaves those exposed areas unusally hot and dry and prevented necessary rain, making the area ripe for conditions like the wildfires currently raging in the forests near Moscow.

So where did those rain patterns go? Follow the graphic, and you see that after blowing far Northward, they dove suddenly Southward toward Pakistan, causing heavy rainfall and widespread flooding, in the midst of their already rainy monsoon season.

Conclusion

"There are no passengers on Spaceship Earth. We are all crew."
-Marshall McLuhan

Does anybody see a pattern here? I'll lay it out very simply.

-Excessive amounts of CO2, emitted largely by industrialized countries who burn fossil fuels, are becoming mired in our atmosphere, channeling the sun's heat on the North pole.
-Warming of the arctic causes ice to melt, which causes oceans to become warmer and saltier, which leads to more ice melting.
-Ice melting leads to changes in sea level.
-Changes in sea level lead to changes in the jetstream.
-Changes in the jetstream lead to drastic ecological crises like the fires in Russia and the floods in Pakistan.

If, for some reason, you still doubt the theory of anthropogenic (man-made) global warming, even after reading this post and perusing the links I cited to back up my claims, can we at least agree that our environment is worth preserving for future generations?

Can we agree to bike more, and drive less?
To turn off and unplug unused appliances?
To swear off plastic bottles?
To shut off the A/C when we leave home?
To grow our own food, or buy locally-grown food? Or to eat out less?
To buy cars that get good gas mileage, so we pump less gas?
To call our senators and congressmen and tell them that you, their constituent, support legislation to mitigate the effects of climate change?

True change starts with ourselves and our communities. What are you doing to help?

Former Marine: "I am sorry for the monster I once was."

An Unwinnable War on Terror

"This man was innocent. I don't know his name...He was walking back to his house, and I shot him in front of his friend and father."
-Jon Michael Turner

Picture this, if you can-

It's 3:00 AM in a neighborhood just outside of Baghdad, and you're a 12 year-old Iraqi child fast asleep in your home. Perhaps you're the oldest, and you're sleeping in the same room as your siblings. All of you huddled together to share whatever blankets and pillows you may have.

Then without warning, the wooden door of your home shatters, splinters of wood exploding outward into the living room while giant, hulking men wearing alien clothing and wielding fearsome-looking automatic rifles stomp into your home in combat boots, shouting in a foreign tongue. They look American, but they aren't wearing flags on their shoulders, but instead the emblem of a private corporation that answers to no government.

They force you and your terrified younger brothers and sisters against the wall with your mother. Your father rushes up to the men to stop them, and they grab him by the throat until he can no longer breathe. Or maybe they slam his head into the wall and he falls to the ground, limp, while the armed men ransack your home, accusing you of terrorism. They leave just as quickly as they had entered, without apology, without explanation. Do you try and go back to sleep after such an experience? Do you stay awake, telling your little brothers and sisters that the men are gone, to stop crying? Do you rush to check on your father's wounds?

What would happen the next day, if you were approached by a man who asked if you wanted to get back at the Americans? That you could join a growing movement to push out the imperialists by force if they chose not to leave? What would you do? Would you go back home, powerless and afraid, always fearful of another late-night invasion? Or would you grit your teeth, nod somberly and ask the man what you could do to help?

The war we are waging against terrorism is unwinnable, because the method in which it is waged fosters more terrorism. The only goal this war is meant to accomplish is to continue feeding our addiction to cheap oil, and the military-industrial complex's addiction to money. The "surge" never worked, it just exacerbated already deplorable conditions. Hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians are dead. 4 million more are wandering refugees. Tens of thousands are jailed without trial and tortured. Women's rights are even more at risk in Iraq than ever before. Health care and education for the Iraqis are still in shambles. Trade unions are banned. Baghdad is now divided by 1,500 blast walls and checkpoints. Utility infrastructure is in complete disrepair. The streets are more unsafe than ever. The U.S. embassy in Iraq is now larger than Vatican City. And as we phase out American enlisted soldiers, we phase in private mercenaries; killing machines paid with U.S. tax dollars who answer to no flag.

This war is not meant to be won. It is meant to be sustained.

Daily Atrocities for Corporate Cash

"We were all congratulated after we had our first kills...my company commander personally congratulated me as he did everyone else in our company. This is the same individual who had stated that whoever gets their first kill by stabbing them to death gets a four-day pass when we get back from Iraq."
-Jon Michael Turner, former Marine

To accomplish the military-industrial complex's goal of sustained warfare, they need a constant supply of fresh, warm-blooded men and women to guard Iraqi oilfields. These young men and women are trained daily to turn off their morality and conscience so they can become effective killers, and continue to kill in spite of no clear end objective and under growing resistance from the local population. While the president states that we're winding troops down, and while that may be true, our permanent occupation of Iraq has just begun.

Last year, a dozen foreign companies won 20-year contracts to control Iraqi oil fields. According to the above article, 60% of Iraq's oil reserves are now under foreign control, and the market can be manipulated to slash global oil prices to the point of breaking OPEC state's control on Middle Eastern oil. We're keeping 50,000 troops there for now for "advising" and "providing security" although most of them are stationed near oil fields, or "protecting U.S. interests," as the Pentagon would prefer us to say.

While the Iraqi government told us that U.S. troops had to be gone by 2011, our occupation will continue through a coming surge of private contractors. When you wage endless wars where an average of 6 die every month with no draft, eventually someone needs to be there to do the dying so oil companies can continue exporting Iraqi crude. So who does the dying right now?

I linked above to a video of Jon Michael Turner, a former Marine who became disgusted with the war and how it transformed him into someone else. He continues, his voice audibly choking up during certain parts.

"A lot of raids and patrols we did at night around 3:00 in the morning...And what we would do is just kick in the doors and terrorize the families...If the men of the household were giving us problems, we'd go ahead and take care of them anyway we felt necessary, whether it was choking them or slamming their head against the walls."

When describing his first confirmed kill, Turner talked about shooting an innocent unknown person he called "the fat man" in the neck, in front of the man's father and friend. He described the man's screams after being shot, looking at his buddy and saying, "Well, we can't have that," and finishing the job with one more shot.

Turner's third confirmed kill was an innocent man riding a bicycle. The entire video is basically him admitting to wanton murder of innocents, but this is particularly chilling.

"We were excited about the firefight we had just gotten into, and we didn't have a cameraman with us...Anytime we had embedded reporters with us, our actions would change drastically...the man on the bicycle was in the street for about ten minutes before we realized we needed to leave where we were...his body was thrown behind a rock wall, and his bicycle was thrown on top of him."

I think it's telling that these enlisted men admit to acting differently when they're being videotaped, and how much differently they must act when there's no media around to videotape any potential war crimes. And it makes me wonder how different the coverage of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars are compared to the coverage of the Vietnam war, which spurred massive street demonstrations. When the blood and guts are whitewashed from your TV screen and when corporate media outlets can dictate what can and can't be shown, it's no wonder the media hardly ever does any stories about war crimes that don't come from a wikileaks post.

Late in the video, Turner talks about how after being attacked by insurgents and one of their own suffering wounds, they take their aggression out by shooting up the minaret of a mosque. It's illegal to shoot at a mosque unless you're sure that you're being fired upon from the inside. 6 minutes into the video, Turner shows footage of a minaret being completely decimated by bullets and artillery due to sheer hate and bottled-up aggression, not out of any fear for their own safety. The ex-Marine ended his testimony with tears in his eyes and emotion thick in his voice.

"I am sorry for the hate and destruction that I have inflicted on innocent people...I am no longer the monster I once was."

What Must Follow

"we went to the market where all the hadji shop,
pulled out our machetes and we began to chop,

"we went to the playground where all the hadji play,
pulled out our machine guns and we began to spray,

"we went to the mosque where all the hadji pray,
threw in a hand grenade and blew them all away."
-Marine Ethan McCord, reciting a marching cadence

In a truly free society where Democratic principles were upheld, there would be accountability for sending young men and women off to die in a war that was never meant to end. There would be accountability for stripping these human beings of their humanity, sending them thousands of miles away from their families and reducing them to beasts who kill innocents without remorse. In a free society, anyone who was caught lying or manipulating evidence to justify invading a sovereign nation would be tried in The Hague for war crimes and crimes against humanity. A free society would call that imperialism, or colonial occupation. They certainly wouldn't call it freedom.

In a free society and a just world, at least one person would be rotting in jail for putting corporate profit margins above life, culture, family and religion.

And one group of Iraq Veterans is calling for the indictment and prosecution of the Bush administration for doing what they did. From the article above:

"The growing body of evidence, including testimony from British officials in the ongoing Chilcot Inquiry, indicates that Bush officials could be charged with criminal offenses against the United States and violations of international law for making false claims to national self-defense.

"Article 1, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution vests the power to authorize use of military force in the Legislative Branch, not the Executive. In order to do so responsibly the Congress must be provided with accurate and objective intelligence. Bush officials' alleged distortion of the intelligence picture created a climate of fear and uncertainty in which the constitutional power of Congress was subverted."

IVAW also comes out swinging against the Bush regime for violating international law in drafting a new Iraqi constitution that favors U.S. corporations, and also through violating Geneva Convention rights given to prisoners. These are all very serious war crimes, and there is more than enough evidence to at least indict top Bush officials, if not convict them.

IVAW further alleges that the Bush administration's alterations to Iraqi laws were made for the intended benefit of U.S. multinational corporations and are illegal under international law. Efforts to pressure Iraqi officials to open up the country's oil industry to foreign investment exacerbated the insurgency and undermined the U.S. military's ostensible mission there.

IVAW finally asserts that senior Bush officials are responsible for the illegal treatment of Iraqi and Afghan officials in U.S. custody and that this treatment was detrimental to the security of American citizens.

If we are to truly repair our international reputation, if we strive to be the free society our founders intended us to be, if we as a people truly value freedom, then we must all collectively demand our leaders be held accountable for their actions. And we must stop deluding ourselves into thinking that oppressing people thousands of miles away somehow makes our country safer.

GOP: More For Me, Less For You

More for Me, Less For You

"This upper-crust of extremely wealthy families are hell-bent on destroying the democratic vision of a strong middle-class which has made the United States the envy of the world. In its place they are determined to create an oligarchy in which a small number of families control the economic and political life of our country."
-Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-VT)

Andrea Orcel is one of the guys who Republicans are fighting for. He's a millionaire banker who worked for Merrill Lynch for a few days before it was bought out by Bank of America. To reward his few days of work, Orcel was given a $25M golden parachute. He's used that to buy a $37M apartment on Park Avenue in New York City. He made $558M in 2008 alone. Republicans in the House and Senate want to extend Bush's tax cuts, which only really cut taxes for guys like him. And it costs the rest of us hundreds of billions in tax dollars per year to give a cushy tax break for the wealthiest two percent.

Know who the Republicans aren't fighting for? You.

House Republicans unanimously voted down the compromise jobs bill, which included $282B in tax cuts for middle-class and upper middle-class families. Working people with jobs, homes, kids, 401Ks and car payments. It was the largest middle-class tax cut in history, and the money folks like us could have saved from taxes would have gone to local businesses and restaurants, instead of offshore tax havens in Switzerland. Every single roll call vote on the measure was rejected by Republicans in the House. Senate Republicans will likely follow suit after the recess.

Essentially, the party that talks about wanting to cut taxes and the importance of tax cuts will only cut them for the richest 2%, not for you.

Know who the Republicans fight for? Rich tax evaders.
Who aren't they fighting for? 9/11 heroes.

Citing the budget deficit and the potential for a tax increase on the pharmaceutical industries who stash away their holdings in Switzerland, House Republicans also voted down a bill that would provide $7B for health care to 9/11 responders. Despite a wide majority vote, Dems failed to get the 2/3rds needed to pass the bill using the procedure they opted for. While Anthony Weiner (D-NY) gave the GOP a good tongue-lashing over their preference for saving rich tax evaders over heroic firemen and police officers, those folks will be on their own when it comes to injuries they sustained while putting their lives at risk to save others.

Who are the Republicans fighting for? Oil companies and the military-industrial complex.
Who are they not fighting for? Senior citizens, teachers, firefighters, policemen and public employees all over the country.

Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) refuses to let Congress go home until they vote on $26B in state aid that was rejected in the compromise jobs bill that Republicans struck down. The bill would help save hundreds of thousands of jobs that would otherwise be cut due to strained state budgets. Most states are reeling from recession, and drastic budget cuts that put public employees like teachers and police out of work not only endanger our kids and our streets, but also strain local economies with nobody spending any of their money. This state aid bill will help regular working folks continue to do jobs they have been trained for, so they can clothe their children, put food on the table, and prop up local businesses.

House Republicans like minority leader John Boehner (R-OH), in the meantime, don't support that kind of spending, calling it a "special interest bailout." There are lots of teachers who would disagree with Rep. Boehner that they are "special interests" looking for "bailouts."

However, some special interests that Republicans are quite fond of include oil companies like BP. They've kept mum about the $35B in subsidies we collectively throw at Big Oil every year. And a study group representing 116 House Republicans criticized Obama for making BP pay for the disaster it helped create.

Republicans are NOT for helping seniors in retirement; in fact, Rep. Boehner has proposed raising the retirement age by 5 years and Rep. Paul Ryan (R-WI) has proposed a budget that would effectively gut Medicare and privatize social security, despite the latter having a $2T surplus and in no need of any reduction in benefits. Boehner has said that the rationing of health care for seniors and killing social security is necessary for fueling wars on two countries that didn't attack us and for giving tax cuts to millionaire bankers.

Oh, but Republicans just don't want to add to the deficit! Right?

Right?

More Republican Hypocrisy

"There's no evidence whatsoever that the Bush tax cuts actually diminished revenue. They increased revenue because of the vibrancy of these tax cuts in the economy."
-Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY)

Mitch McConnell apparently feels he is entitled to his own facts, as well as his own misguided opinions. The CBO established five years ago that tax cuts have a much more adverse effect on the economy than any kind of domestic spending. The bi-partisan Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget estimates that tax cuts are even more costly than waging wars overseas. While Iraq and Afghanistan have cost us over a trillion dollars so far, the Joint Tax Committee estimated that tax cuts for the wealthy will have twice that much impact. To add to the absolute falsehood of Sen. McConnell's statement about the Bush tax cuts, the Brookings Institute has concluded that those tax cuts have deprived us of much-needed revenue and vastly increased the federal deficit.

Republicans like Senator Jon Kyl (R-AZ) have refused to say how they'll keep paying for the Bush tax cuts, especially when confronted with the fact that they refuse to pay for an extension of unemployment benefits for victims of the recession. And they staunchly agree that they will block any attempt to let the Bush tax cuts expire in 2011. Tax cuts and wars are exponentially more costly and add much more to the deficit than any domestic stimulus programs that actually help working folks here in the states. Yet all manufactured concern over the deficit dissipates if it means Republicans can pander to Wall Street, the military-industrial complex and multinational corporations.

Republicans have made it very clear- they are NOT fighting for you, unless you're a multimillionaire banker or corporation. They are NOT fighting for the working poor, the unemployed, the middle class, working families, 9/11 heroes, or senior citizens. Republicans are only interested in carrying on the failed policies of George W. Bush, which voters overwhelmingly rejected in 2006 and 2008.

So in November of 2010, if you'd like to throw the bums out who promise only to fight for the richest and give a middle finger to everyone else, then pull the lever in the vote box for Drive, not Reverse.

Plan on Voting Teapublican in November? Tell Me Why.

(Disclaimer: I'm not pulling any punches here. Teapublicans plan on destroying America, and I'm going to spend this note both calling them out on their dangerous extremism and on proving that the Democrats are our last hope as a society. Regardless of where your politics lie, I want you to read this over, and if you still disagree with me or any of the dozens of links of evidence I have here, come out in the open about it and tell me why. I expect you to have evidence of your own to back up what you say. And I expect your evidence to come from legitimate sources- i.e. not from FOX News or Andrew Breitbart.)

The Rise of the Teapublicans/The Downfall of the GOP

If nobody has yet coined the phrase "Teapublican," then allow me the honor. I think the word is a lot easier than saying "Tea Partier," or "Republican," since the Tea Party and the Republican Party have become synonymous with one another. Tea Party candidates like Rand Paul and Sharron Angle have seemingly spent the last few months trying to outdo each other in who can be the looniest. Rand Paul believes the president criticizing BP on their handling of the Gulf oil gusher is "un-American," and openly advocates lowering already stagnant and insufficient wages for the middle class, but not for the banksters and oil company executives, of course. In Nevada, Sharron Angle has insinuated that she would be in favor of armed insurrection. Concerning her hard-line stance against abortion, she believes that God always has a plan. And sometimes, God's plan includes rape and incest. Hey, she said it- not me.

Rather than denounce such unpatriotic ideology, DC Republicans are embracing the extremism wholeheartedly. Rep. Joe Barton of Texas, the ranking Republican on the Energy Committee, apologized to the CEO of BP after President Obama told the company to set aside $20 billion to clean up the mess they created. Shortly after that, the Republican Study Committee, which represents 116 Republicans in Congress, couldn't wait to take BP's side, calling the $20 billion escrow account a "Chicago-style shakedown."

House Republican leader John Boehner has openly said that if Republicans retake Congress and he becomes Speaker of the House, he would raise the retirement age by 5 years, and put Social Security, the most successful social welfare program in the history of this country, in the hands of proven professional thieves like Goldman-Sachs and J.P. Morgan. Rep. Paul Ryan, the ranking Republican on the Budget Committee, has proposed a budget that would ration Medicare for seniors.

Despite all of the GOP fearmongering about health insurance reform, Teapublicans, to borrow their language, have actually fronted policy that would leave health care for ailing seniors in the hands of government bureaucrats. Essentially, the "Don't Kill Grandma" party is proposing that we pull the plug on granny to save money. The Teapublicans propose the outright elimination of social safety nets for the poor so we can continue to give tax cuts to the richest 1% who don't need them, and fund two endless wars on countries that didn't attack us. And yes, the Teapublicans are still against a $350 a week pittance for victims of a recession that their policies effectively created. Rep. Boehner compared the financial crisis that left 8,000,000 Americans without jobs to an ant while explaining his opposition to reigning in the Wall Street fat cats who pillaged our 401Ks and pension.

So what's the alternative?

18 Months of Progressivism

Teapublicans claim these regressive policies are necessary to end Democratic policies they compare to "Armageddon." But is the world really ending under the Democrats' watch? Is the "stop the spending" mantra really sound economic policy, or brainless fluff?

-After a $17 billion bailout of the American auto industry, the Big Three have come back in full swing, and are making good on paying the government back. And despite the tough recession, these companies are now in good enough financial standing to start sharing their profits with their hourly workers.

-Speaking of the car market and the economy, people are buying cars again. A lot more. Almost as much as during the "Cash for Clunkers" program. July car sales are set to either equal or outdo all of the extra business car companies had after the wildly successful 2009 program. Despite what the right-scream media (thanks, Monty) may have told you, there is good news on the horizon for the car manufacturers. They can credit their successes to federal government intervention.

-Speaking of federal intervention in the market, economic advisers to both Republican and Democratic administrations have concluded that despite how bad things are now, they would be infinitely worse had President Obama not immediately taken direct action with stimulus spending. A new study, conducted by a formal Federal Reserve vice chairman and by one of John McCain's economic advisers, finds that without federal action in this recession, there would be 8.5 million less jobs than there are now, that national GDP would 6.5% percent less than current levels and that we would be experiencing deflation instead of mild inflation.

After just 18 months in office, President Obama has already enacted health care reform legislation, which 7 presidents from both parties couldn't do. He has signed into law the most sweeping financial regulations since the New Deal. His Democratic Congress has passed crucial legislation that has kept the economy afloat, despite an endless onslaught of Republican filibusters at every single piece of progressive legislation. The Democrats have already made astronomical progress.

But because the country is in such dire straits, there is still a long, long way to go before we've fully recovered from the havoc wreaked by Republicans. And this new breed of Teapublican, where the radical fringe right-wing has effectively taken over a major political party, seeks to undo not just the recent progress made, but an entire century of Democratic achievements that lifted up the poor and middle class.

The Teapublican Plan for America

If Teapublicans win majorities in the House and Senate, they have openly pledged to-

-Repeal Health Insurance Reform.
-Repeal Wall Street Reform.
-Get rid of Social Security and Medicare.
-Cut taxes for the wealthiest Americans.
-Funnel $35 billion in taxpayer money to Big Oil.
-Protect those responsible for the Gulf oil spill.
-Abolish the Department of Education.
-Abolish the Department of Energy.
-Abolish the Environmental Protection Agency.
-Abolish the Occupational Safety and Health Administration.
-Abolish the Internal Revenue Service.
-Outlaw homosexuality.
-Take away your right to vote for U.S. Senators.
-Give the middle finger to the unemployed.
-Prevent a vote on legislation aimed at making corporate donors to political campaigns identify themselves.

Despite such an anti-American, anti-Democratic ideology, Teapublicans still boast about the majorities they plan to gain in the midterm elections. Through talk radio and FOX News- the echo chambers of hate and fear- misguided Teapublican supporters likely haven't considered the consequences their votes could have this November. In their desperation and ignorance, Teapublican voters have even started to steal campaign slogans from 4chan, a festering pool of porn, gore and racism.

If you support these views and plan to vote for candidates who proudly espouse these principles, just tell me why.

The Trampling of Jdimytai Damour/Corporate Callousness 2.0

Friday, Nov. 28, 2008

(The following story is based on a true event.)

It was a cold, cold New York morning. Jdimytai Damour's belly was still full from yesterday's Thanksgiving Dinner, and his insides had been quite disagreeable since he had woken up that morning for work, for the dreaded Black Friday shift. Damour rubbed a chunk of sleep still glued to his eye, the 2:00 AM din of the alarm clock robbing him of any hopeful feelings about the next few hours to come. The 34 year-old left his apartment in Jamaica, Queens, and boarded the Long Island train, still groggy from the lack of sleep and abundance of food breaking down in his belly. Jdimytai still considered himself young and full of life, and not even an early-morning 12-hour shift could stop him. He'd have plenty of cash to blow after the next check came through, and that kept his spirits up.

Damour, the temporary maintenance worker, had been instructed to arrive at 3:00 AM in anticipation for the 5 AM opening, and stand just inside the door of the Wal-Mart supercenter where he worked to maintain the crowds that were expected to swarm the place for doorbuster deals on plasma screen TVs, video game systems and personal computers. First come, first served. There was a handwritten sign by the entrance clearly marked "BLITZ LINE STARTS HERE." Wooden barricades accompanied Damour at the front.

Damour watched scads of cars fill the parking lot not long after his own arrival. Shoppers clad in thick layers briskly rubbed their hands together, their breath rising in clouds, preparing to wait for hours in the fierce cold of the pre-dawn Long Island November to spend their hard-earned dough on the shiny gadgets that lie inside waiting, marked down for the lucky few who made it there first.

The shoppers got antsy as more of them showed up. The line had started to grow disordely, and Damour nervously chewed his lip, observing his watch as he observed the rapidly increasing crowd, whose patience seemed to dissipate proportionally to the increase of its number.

4:25. Still more than a half hour to go. The Valley Stream Wal-Mart told Damour that the doors would open exactly at 5:00 sharp, and that he would be the one to usher crowds inside. He was, however, but one man. Other security had been hired to stand by, but that didn't ease the growing fear settling in his gut. The handwritten sign and barricades had since been rendered meaningless; the once-orderly line had now turned into a sea of people slowly budging closer to Damour, who firmly held his hands out in front of him.

"Hey pal, how much longer are we gonna have to wait?" One customer angrily shouted through the glass.
"Let us in! It's cold!" Said another.
"Move outta the way!" Another yelled.

The crowd had now swelled to about 2,000 people. The sign was now on the ground, lying under the feet of the pissed-off shoppers. The cold coming through the glass was no longer an issue for Damour; his blood ran hot, and sweat beaded his forehead from the proximity of the crowd, the unsettling ache of his bowels, combined with a slight delirium from a lack of sleep.

"Just wait," Damour yelled out to the shoppers in front. "The store opens at 5. Please be calm, we'll be opening shortly."

Damour's watch read 4:47 AM. Still far too early for anyone to be up on a holiday, yet the Wal-Mart parking lot was full. Cars buzzed by on the road nearby, undoubtedly heading out to grab early bird deals at other stores hoping to capitalize on the Black Friday rush. All the gloom and doom over the recent economic collapses had really caused the media to amp up "Black Friday" into a holiday of its own, business owners eager to get shoppers inside the stores and keep them there until their holiday bonuses were nestled in the cash registers. Damour's manager had told him that he'd be needed until probably 4 or 5 that day, and to expect more 12-hour shifts as Christmas loomed closer.

It was 4:54 AM now, and the crowd had morphed into a mob. Shoppers no longer cared about the words they used in front of children, or about bumping into and elbowing one another. The doorbuster deals were a straight line to the back of the store in the Electronics department, and shoppers looked prepared to fight one another to be first in line to get a $20 discount on the big screen TV. Still the mob pushed and shoved and elbowed and swore. Other employees, notiving the havoc that was escalating outside, had joined Damour and formed a human chain in front of the stoor entrance.

"PUSH THE DOORS IN! PUSH THE DOORS IN! PUSH THE DOORS IN!" The mob bellowed.

Then, two things happened, almost simultaneously, just before 5 AM.

Damour saw the glass pane in front of him start to bend in the middle from the force of the crowd. He pushed to get it to stay upright, but the glass had bent back too far.

The door burst off its hinges. Damour fell helplessly backward, and the mob pushed on. They no longer noticed the man in the hooded sweatshirt and gloves and blue vest serving as the last barricade between them and the deals that lie beyond the glass. As Damour fell, hordes of boots and sneakers fell upon him, compounded with the weight of the shoppers who wore them. There was nowhere else but the shoppers to go but forward. Shoes continued to pound and squash Damour into the hard tile floor, bloodying his face, breaking his bones, pulverizing his insides as shoppers leapt over one another and on top of the man who lay helplessly on the floor, buried under the feet and weight of thousands.

The doorbusters had been picked up almost as soon as Damour met his swift death. Customers squabbled with each other, punching and shoving those who had made it to the first deals on the shelf. Emergency crews were rushed in to perform CPR on Damour, but even they were not immune to the consumer-hungry rage of the mob still pouring in from the dark, cold New York morning. Even four other shoppers couldn't escape injury from the ensuing mayhem, including a 28 year-old woman eight months pregnant.

Not more than 45 minutes after Damour was trampled, the manager's voice instructed shoppers on the intercom that a worker was killed, that they would have to leave.

"Aw, man! I've been in line since 4 this morning!" One shopper yelled in protest.

The Wal-Mart would re-open that day at 1 PM, and shoppers filled the building within minutes. Damour would not be there this time to help guard the door.

The discounted gifts that customers endured for hours in the cold just for a few bucks off sticker price, like a $798 Samsung 50-inch Plasma HDTV, a Bissel Compact Upright Vacuum for $28 and Men's Wrangler Tough Jeans for $8 would eventually be wrapped and placed under trees, and would be torn apart and opened to excited screams and shouts on a Christmas morning that 34 year-old Jdimytai Damour would never see. A morning that his 41 year-old sister Danielle would spend quietly without him, weeping uncontrollably with other grieving family members like 37 year-old cousin Ernst, instead.

Corporate Callousness 2.0

The Occupational Safety and Health Act was enacted by Congress in 1970 in the event that if something happened like the event above, there would be some accountability. OSHA has the authority to levy penalties to companies who knowingly put their workers in hazardous situations. Such regulations meant to ensure corporations consider the safety of their employees as the highest priority, even above profits.

29 U.S.C. § 654, 5(a)1: "Each employer shall furnish to each of his employees employment and a place of employment which are free from recognized hazards that are causing or are likely to cause death or serious physical harm to his employees."

But thanks to decades of the corporate special interest lobbying that has been polluting congress relentlessly, and even much moreso since the Reagan Revolution, these corporations are now only responsible for a mere $7,000 pittance if a "foreseeable death" occurs. The penalty for a "willful death" is $70,000. One Wal-Mart store makes about $250,000 per day. That's a conservative estimate.

However, Wal-Mart, in the ultimate act of corporate defiance of laws, has spent $2 MILLION fighting OSHA's $7,000 fine for a Wal-Mart worker dying on the clock. That's $2,000,000. Spent to not pay a $7,000 fine for something they knew could very possibly happen. They claim that OSHA doesn't have the constitutional authority to levy penalties against private corporations. Which is complete nonsense, as corporate accountability for wrongdoing to workers is precisely why OSHA was created. But OSHA's legal department has complained that Wal-Mart, with its infinite resources and money, is draining OSHA's resources to the point that a full third of their legal department is dedicating all of their time to try and get Wal-Mart to follow the law.

Clearly, this isn't about money. This is Wal-Mart waging a war of attrition against the federal government, in an ultimate effort to discourage them in the future from pursuing large corporations and holding them accountable when they put lives at risk for the sake of profit. Wal-Mart, a company that let a worker die while working for them, is challenging the federal government for having the audacity to make them pay for their callousness.

If this isn't enough to get people to stop giving Wal-Mart their money, I don't know what is.