All posts by Headly Westerfield

About Headly Westerfield

Calling himself “A liberally progressive, sarcastically cynical, iconoclastic polymath,” Headly Westerfield has been a professional writer all his adult life.

Crespogram, Coconut Grove, and Charles Avenue

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Those who follow me on social media know I love to share the heat from the Crespogram Report.

FULL DISCLOSURE: A while back I recused myself from commenting on Miami politics because I am currently writing the biography of Ken Russell, Commissioner in Miami’s District 2, now running for Congress in Miami’s District 27. Therefore, take whatever I write with however many grains of salt you need in order to make this post palatable.

Let me first put a fine point on it: While Al Crespo is — hands down — the best of the Miami muckrakers, his post of this morning is a total misfire.

What I have always loved about Crespo is how he backs up his accusations with facts and the official documents. He publishes them to prove his assertions and prove that Miami politicians are lying scumbags.

Not today.

Today he published a letter from Guillermo de la Paz and says about it:

It’s pretty self-explanatory, and raises a very serious question about how Andy Parrish stays on the City of Miami’s Planning and Zoning Board if, in fact de la Paz’s accusations are true.

If true.

Remember, it was only last week people were saying “If true, Roy Moore should step down.”

If true!!!

It may very well be true. I don’t know and I don’t really care. I’m not concerned with that.

Here’s what I do know: Guillermo de la Paz is lashing out because he’s been under continued scrutiny and criticism ever since he built his block-busting Big White Box on Charles Avenue. He’s referencing an article in the Miami Herald and his letter quotes several people out of context on what they think of the Big White Box style of domicile.

The only thing left of the designated historic E.W.F. Stirrup House is the roof. Every other stick of wood in the structure was replaced after a rapacious developer allowed it to undergo nearly a decade of DEMOLITION BY NEGLECT.

Longtime readers of Not Now Silly will remember my 8-year failed attempt to save the E.W.F. Stirrup House — the oldest house on the oldest street in Miami — from DEMOLITION BY NEGLECT. Charles Avenue was once called Evangelist Street and was laid out by the very same E.W.F. Stirrup on a slight angle because he was not a surveyor. It was designated a Historic Roadway by the city of Miami in 2012. Even that was not enough to save the Stirrup House and keep de la Paz’s Big White Box off Charles.

Let me state up front that de la Paz didn’t break any laws or build anything without the appropriate permits. The argument is whether Miami’s Planning and Zoning department dropped the ball in allowing any of this to happen in the first place. Charles Avenue is in the NCD-2 [Neighborhood (sic) Conservation District overlay #2]. The NCD-2, as opposed to the NCD-3 (on the opposite side of Grand Avenue, f’rinstance), calls for architecture with a Bahamian feel to reflect the rich history of this unique enclave.

There’s nothing Bahamian about the Big White Box that de la Paz built. FULL DISCLOSURE #2: That’s what its detractors call them, and I count myself among them. In fact, I call them dentist’s offices. They are cold and sterile and I don’t understand the esthetic that finds these structures beautiful. However, taste is subjective. The NCD-2 shouldn’t be. It’s all black and white, no pun intended.

I call Guillermo’s house a block-buster because it was the first Big White Box on Charles. Now there are others that came later and more are proposed. It opened the door for anyone to now say, “If he can build one, why can’t I?” It’s the very definition of block-busting, if you discount the definition of blockbuster bombs dropped in WWII.

Ironically, it’s not the racially weighted historic definition of days gone by either. That’s when a real estate agent — seeing opportunity and dollars — would sell a house to that first Black family in order to bust the block. White folks would suddenly sell out in droves and that real estate agent would generally reap the profits. But I digress.

I was talking about the Big White Box, which in all its various formations are cropping up all over Coconut Grove and elsewhere in Miami. Architects tell me they are inexpensive to build, heat, and cool. They’re just ugly.

I quoted Crespo’s article’s 2nd paragraph above which “raises a very serious question” about Andy Parrish, if true, if true, if true. However, here’s the first paragraph in which Crespo takes gratuitous slaps at Ken Russell:

I’ve not written a lot about the goings on in Coconut Grove as it relates to the battles between developers, self-entitled rich folks, what’s left of the Black folks from the Bahamas who traditionally considered the West Grove to be their little piece of America and the lying weasel dick City Commissioner Ken “Selfie Boy” Russell, who shuck and jived a lot of those Black folks into thinking he was not going to be another in a long line of lying white politicians, when in fact that’s just what he turned out to be, but I got a copy of this letter that a guy named Guillermo de la Paz, sent on on Sunday night.

SHAKE SALT HERE: I’ve been writing about the shady Planning and Zoning department in Miami for years. However, I stopped chasing that story when the former District 2 Commissioner, [allegedly] corrupt Marc D. Sarnoff, was termed out and his wife lost the election to the aforementioned Ken Russell. [Maybe I should revive my Freedom of Information request that I hand delivered to the Planning and Zoning Department. I allowed it to go unfulfilled when I was unable to land my Great White Whale: Sarnoff.]

Crespo’s ire should be directed towards towards the Miami Planning and Zoning Department and/or Andy Parrish, if true, if true, if true.

Al Crespo has behaved like a spurned lover ever since he caught Russell failing to document gift baskets sent to the Commissioner in his first few weeks in office. Long before signing a non-disclosure agreement in order to write this biography, I said as much to anyone who would listen. [More on this topic will be explored in the book. Stay tuned.]

Regardless, unlike Crespo I have written a lot about the “goings on in Coconut Grove as it relates to the battles between developers, self-entitled rich folks, what’s left of the Black folks from the Bahamas who traditionally considered the West Grove to be their little piece of America…” What I have documented at Now Now Silly is how that little piece of ‘Merka that the Bahamians owned made it a unique community because Coconut Grove once had the highest percentage of Black home ownership than anywhere else in this country.

For a number of decades systemic racism kept these property values low because: Black neighbourhood and all that it entails. Other socioeconomic circumstances [read: institutionalized racism] kept the owners wages low and the possibility of home loans to fix up their properties merely a pipe dream. The neighbourhood continued to deteriorate as families passed these houses down the generations, like White families pass down the family jewels.

Now that Coconut Grove has become one of the most desired communities in South Florida, that historic Black community is being chipped away by gentrification. These folks have now become land rich, but cash poor. They are selling out and people are buying the properties to knock down the historic homes — many of them built by E.W.F. Stirrup himself — to build Big White Boxes.

Guillermo de la Paz is the poster child for the Big White Box style of gentrification that is currently roiling the neighbourhood. And, he’s become more and more defensive about it.

Last Lyfting Log? ► UpLyfting Thoughts #8

I was very proud to be a Lyft Driver, but I may not be one any more.

When I decided earlier this year to become a Ride Share driver, I investigated both Lyft and Uber using Der Googalizer. While doing so I kept coming up with negative reports about Uber and nothing but positives about Lyft.

Now, understand, I’m not talking about Yelp-style negativity. Every business gets shat upon eventually on Yelp. No. What I was finding could best be described as Corporate Evil. Don’t take my word for it. Please take a few minutes perusing the headlines in this search for a couple of pages. That’ll give you a good idea of what popped up in my search 7 months ago.

However, I found nothing similar for Lyft.

That’s when I asked myself, and probably out loud, “Who needs to partner with a company that lies to its drivers, its customers, and various governments around the world?” It was all documented for handy reading on the innertubes. [And, since then the news has only gotten worse.]

That’s why I went with Lyft exclusively.

I know that many drivers do both, logging onto both Lyft and Uber and take the first order that comes in. They turn off the app that’s idle and take the immediate client. Then they sign back on after dumping their passenger. I didn’t want to do that and it had everything to do with Uber’s reputation.

Last week I was “deactivated” from Lyft.

At first I mistakenly thought it was because Lyft was requesting a new driver’s pic. At least that’s what I thought it meant when my pic disappeared from the app. While it didn’t make sense, I gave Lyft a new one anyway. After waiting a few hours for it to be approved, I finally called Lyft because it hadn’t been and I was losing money.

That’s when Lyft drew my attention to an email it had sent late Sunday, which I had not seen. It turns out that one of my customers reported that I was intoxicated.

I was never much of a drinker. To have described myself as a moderate drinker actually overstates the case. I was ALMOST a teetotaler, having a drink or two every couple of months. However, I’ve not had a single drink in the last 12 years.

The reason I can pinpoint it so exactly is because on the day I was sworn in to become a Canadian citizen, some of my friends — I’m looking at you, Peter and Erin — took me to the Ben Wick’s Pub and got me shit-faced. Every time I turned around someone else was shoving a scotch on the rocks in my hand. And, I drank them all. It was a celebration.

I’ve not needed a drink since, nor have I had one. Not even a beer. That was enough for the rest of my life.

Lyft is *STILL* investigating this false accusation, but how does one investigate a FAKE accusation? How do I prove that I don’t drink at all? I actually asked this question on my facebookery. All my face-to-face friends replied they had NEVER seen me drink. I can produce dozens of people who I’ve gone out drinking with over the years, who will swear I ordered nothing but ice tea or coffee and served as the evening’s designated driver. No one will ever find a single person who has seen me take a sip of liquor in 12 years. But, some mistaken impression in the Grey Ghost sidelines me?

I’m not told who complained. I’ve been wracking my brain to try to figure out what I could have done, or said, or slurred, that would cause someone to draw that conclusion. However, if you think your driver is drunk, there’s only one proper response: “PULL THIS FUCKER OVER RIGHT THIS SECOND!!! I WANT OUT!!!” Then call the cops.

I had only been a Lyft driver for about 6 months with a lifetime ride count of 721. Now I may no longer be one. I thought I was a conscientious Lyfter, providing a needed service to my passengers. I gave them music choices, radio station choices, adjusted the temperature to accommodate them, obeyed all the traffic laws, and tried to be a jolly person, whether I felt it or now.

I’ve now signed up with Uber. If you’ve been paying attention to the above, you know why I never wanted to do that. If Lyft ever reinstates me, I’ll become one of those drivers who do both.

BTW: After driving with Uber for a week, I am actually making better money. The Grey Ghost is idle less. The clients come faster, which means more of them in a morning before it’s time to come home and work on my huge project.

Hannity’s Advertisers Are Dropping Like Flies After Sean Defends Disgusting Roy Moore

I picked the wrong decade to stop writing Fox “News” Criticism. All my previous TRUTH about the FAKE NEWS CHANNEL can be found HERE and HERE.

Hannity’s Advertisers Are Dropping Like Flies After Sean Defends Disgusting Roy Moore

The other day Roy Moore was accused of having sex with underage girls. Not just one, but FOUR women stepped forward and stated that then-prosecuting attorney Roy Moore had sought out their company for the purpose of sexual relations. The youngest was 14 years old, while Moore had been 32 years old. As with all members… Continue reading Hannity’s Advertisers Are Dropping Like Flies After Sean Defends Disgusting Roy Moore →

The Sins of the Father ► A Pastoral Letter

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Pastor Kenny Pastorizing his flock

Dear Pastor Kenny:

It was great seeing you last month, as unexpected as it was. Almost immediately after the Not Now Silly Newsroom officially announced there would be no Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research this year …. What’s that old Jewish expression? “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

Since God and I are not on speaking terms, I have absolutely no idea how He might have learned of my plans to stay home this year. Unless He reads my facebookery.

When I made my announcement, I obviously didn’t know that Hurricane Irma would force a Road Trip on me. However, by the time I finally made the decision to flee, Irma was headed straight for the condo as a Category 5. Originally, I was only going to go to as far as Pensacola to get out of her path. However, in the final analysis that wouldn’t have done any good. Irma curved to the west side of the state. I’d either have had to continue north or make a left in the panhandle and head west towards Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana.

At the last minute, however, a facefriend of some years standing, whom I had never met, suggested we hightail it to Michigan, where he also has relatives. At first I resisted, then changed my mind. In the end that proved to be the least expensive option. Driving anywhere else would have required us to spring for hotel/motel fees, more meals in restaurants, and other accessories.

Talk about your synchronicity: It was only when I was finally in Ohio, traveling north along I-75, I asked Siri to call you. Siri didn’t know your number because it was in my old Windows Phone, where Cortana ruled the roost. Not long afterwards — at the very next rest stop, in fact — I opened up my facebookery and the top post on my timeline was one of your infrequent (compared to me) ones.

That’s when I facebooked you and we set up our time together. This year we spent more time together than any previous year. I especially enjoyed visiting the old neighbourhood with you:

https://www.facebook.com/headly.westerfield/videos/1054733027995662/

FULL CONFESSION: I only really think of sin when I’m writing to you. Otherwise, I just carry on day to day without a single thought of eternal damnation whatsoever.

Of course, Jews don’t really believe in Heaven. Nor Hell. To bastardize Woody Allen’s joke: I’m a Reformed Jew. I’m so Reformed, I’m a Atheist.


♫ ♪ ♫ Knock, knock knockin’ on h— WAIT!!! WHAT???

Regardless, in “Heaven and Hell in Jewish Tradition“, at the Jewish Learning website, it says (among a bunch of other stuff worth reading):

What the next world is, however, is far from clear. The rabbis use the term Olam Ha-Ba to refer to a heaven-like afterlife as well as to the messianic era or the age of resurrection, and it is often difficult to know which one is being referred to. When the Talmud does speak of Olam Ha-Ba in connection to the afterlife, it often uses it interchangeably with the term Gan Eden (“the Garden of Eden”), referring to a heavenly realm where souls reside after physical death.

The use of the term Gan Eden to describe “heaven” suggests that the rabbis conceived of the afterlife as a return to the blissful existence of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden before the “fall.” It is generally believed that in Gan Eden the human soul exists in a disembodied state until the time of bodily resurrection in the days of the Messiah.

One interesting talmudic story, in which the World to Come almost certainly refers to a heavenly afterlife, tells of Rabbi Joseph, the son of Rabbi Joshua ben Levi, who dies and returns back to life.

“His father asked him, ‘What did you see?’ He replied, ‘I beheld a world the reverse of this one; those who are on top here were below there, and vice versa.’ He [Joshua ben Levi] said to him, ‘My son, you have seen a corrected world.’”

Ken, anything you can add to this internal discussion is always welcome, but it occurred to me a long time ago that I’m really writing to myself. These Pastoral Letters, as you know, are a self-examination of my spirituality, or — to put it into other terms — my relationship with a non-God.

Anyway, as I say, my mind jumps to sin at times like these. Having actually never done so, I decided to use Der Googleizer. Who knew there were so many kinds of sin?

There’s Mortal Sin,, when you’re going to straight to Hell, do not pass GO, do not collect $200. Venial Sin, in which you’re surely testing the limits of your relationship with God, but you know in the back of your mind that all you have to do is beg forgiveness, and BINGO! It’s a done deal. In fact, the same goes for Mortal Sins. That’s why confession is good for the soul. Because it lets one off the hook.

Then there are the Seven Deadly Sins, which is what people tend to think of when they think of sin. The WikiWackyWoo suggests the Seven Deadly Sins should not be confused with Mortal Sin. It adds:

The seven deadly sins, also known as the capital vices or cardinal sins, is a grouping and classification of Christian origin, of vices.[1] Behaviours or habits are classified under this category if they directly give birth to other immoralities.[2] According to the standard list, they are pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth,[2] which are also contrary to the seven virtues. These sins are often thought to be abuses or excessive versions of one’s natural faculties or passions (for example, gluttony abuses one’s desire to eat).

But later, just to confuse the issue, the Wiki also says:

The seven deadly sins in their current form are not found in the Bible, however there are biblical antecedents. One such antecedent is found in the Book of Proverbs 6:16–19, however only in the Masoretic Text (the earlier translated Septuagint version of this passage lacks a clear preface and lists only five). Among the verses traditionally associated with King Solomon, it states that the Lord specifically regards “six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto Him”, namely:[6]

  1. A proud (vain) look
  2. A lying tongue.
  3. Hands that shed innocent blood
  4. A heart that deviseth wicked acts
  5. Feet that be swift in running to mischief
  6. A false witness that speaketh lies
  7. He that soweth discord among brethren[7]

Another list,[8] given this time by the Epistle to the Galatians (Galatians 5:19–21), includes more of the traditional seven, although the list is substantially longer: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, “and such like”.[9] Since the apostle Paul goes on to say that the persons who practice these sins “shall not inherit the Kingdom of God”, such sins are usually listed as mortal sins (unless sufficient reflection and deliberate consent are not present) rather than capital vices.[10]

Who’s got time to keep track of all those sins? Especially the “and such like” category, in which you can lump just about anything? Instead, let’s (quickly) take the Cardinal Sins one by one.

  • Lust. Most people think this means “sex”, but there is lust for things as well: money, status, and respect. Personally, I lust after nice pieces of brass.Meanwhile, sexual lust can’t be evil. Otherwise, only a practical joker of a God would have hardwired it into us. It’s what one does with that sexual lust that can be evil — or illegal, for that matter.
  • Gluttony. This week I ate a quart of ice cream by myself, but for the most part I’m not a glutton, except for punishment.
  • Greed. The unfettered acquisition of money has never been one of my problems. In fact, had it been one of my problems, I’d have fewer problems.
  • Sloth. It comes and goes. I can be real lazy when I set my mind to it. But a sin? Not to me.
  • Wrath. I get angry, but can blow & go; get pissed off about something and then forget all about it after the volcano erupts. But, I never take it out on people that don’t deserve it, if that helps.Yet I also recognize that there are some people on my shit list that I will take pot shots at again and again, and never forgive.
  • Pride. Like jingoistic flag-waving? Not my problem. However, there’s some things I justifiably take pride in. Is it Foolish Pride? Just crank it up and D A N C E ! ! !

  • Envy.

Envy? You ask.

DING! DING!! DING!!! Oh yeah, that’s the one. I’ve long recognized it’s my biggest fault; my biggest sin.

Now, I’m not envious of people’s money, or the things they have acquired [see above]. I’m envious of people’s situations, which is really hard to explain. The story I told you about pretending to be on the Safety Patrol (way back when) must have been born from my envy of you.

Here’s how sick I really am (and I’m not talking about this vaguebooking): I have a dear friend, who happened to fit incredibly comfortably into a situation, due to an introduction I made. At the very same time a brass ring I had been reaching for receded well beyond my reach and was denied me. Thru’ the facebookery, I am forced to confront both of these things simultaneously. I should be happy for my friend for the former, but I am nothing but envious due to the latter.

Read “Facebook, the “spiral of envy,” and our Botox Life“

Since I returned from Michigan, I even started to envy you, Ken.

As you know I offended one of your parishioners deeply. When I apologized and asked for her forgiveness, she replied that she had, but only because I’m an old friend of yours. I envy that relationship you have with her; instead of having her accuse me — in the same sentence — of both mansplaining and whitesplaining. She would never accuse you of Pastorsplaining. She would have listened.

I’ve always said that the most important thing to remember in discussions about race is that White folk need to listen when Black folks speak about Racism. I still believe that. They’re on the front lines. They have the experience(s). However, it wouldn’t hurt Black folks to listen once in a while. I may not be totally woke, but I’ve been wiping the sleep from my eyes about Race Relations since I was a teenager working in Pops’ store on 12th Street, now known as Rosa Parks Boulevard. I feel I have something to contribute to the discussion and to use terms like whitesplaining and mansplaining is not designed to have a dialogue, only to turn one into a pillar of salt.

TO BE FAIR: She was not wrong to be offended. I used an offensive word. But, here’s the thing, Ken: Pops never said “the N-Word” in his life. Pops said “nigger”. I’m not going to WHITEwash what Pops said, as ugly as it was. This is the titular “Sins of the Father“. I don’t let Pops off the hook just because he’s 1). Dead; 2). My father. Using the word when appropriate is just an extension of my essay, which predates our reunion, “A Reasoned Defense of the Word Nigger“. Furthermore, I see no contradiction in using the word and being sorry that I did.

If you think of it, Ken, please show this essay to her. Not to offend her all over again, because I truly fell in love with her. But, to offer her as much space in rebuttal as she’d like to take. I promise to print every word.

As always, the same goes for you.

I’ll sign off here, Ken, as this Pastoral Letter is long enough already. As they often do, this one went to places I never intended when I started and I’ve had enough self-examination for one day.

With all my love,
From your oldest friend in the world,

Marc Slootsky

Vanity, Thy Name Is Personalized Plates . . . ► UpLyfting Thoughts #7

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If I wasn’t such a cheap bastard I might consider getting a license plate that says LYFTING, just because. However, normally I laugh at most of the vanity plates I see.

Of course, some plates are meant to be humorous. Those are the least funny. Some are laughable on its merits. Others are an initial puzzlement, but finally come into focus when I say it aloud enough times. Then there are those that I still have yet to decipher. The ones that are the best in essence say, “Look at what a big dick I have.” They don’t always belong to men.

I don’t know how it is in other states, but Florida also has a plethora Specialty Plates that one can use to support a sports team, charity, or environmental and social issues, as long as your social issue is CHOOSE LIFE. You cannot find a Florida plate for ABORTIONS FOR EVERYBODY. Here’s the only Florida Specialty Plate WORTH GETTING.

On top of that tag you can add your personalized message with a Vanity Plate. A cursory look see (because who’s got time for research?) tells me that Virginians are so vain, they probably think this article is about them. But, New Hampshire, Illinois, Nevada and Montana round out the top 5.

Still Florida has its share of vain people.Because I’m a writer. I always carry a notebook. Since I’ve been Lyfting, here are the plates I’ve jotted down:

DR KING • ANCHA • HPY PUPP • BENZ • NO YU • CLRGY MN • ROBYN Q • NICE LGS • I H8 CLD • NIK 3 • BONANZA • PYEM • MEMRI • TECH CEO • JOYSRUS • I LV TERI • CYNTS • GOONAD • KAMILI • IHELP • SAIRAAP • TNI CAT • LE COBRA • LO5KY • BTR WRTH • D8AGS • WINTER 1 • QUICK 02 • SCIMUNE • AMBIENZ • 4 BLOW [Miami Heat plate] • PNLTY [Florida Panther plate, which oddly enough is not on the official Florida website] • WKDCLWN [belonging to a Juggalo I met in Ohio on his way to the Washington, D.C. protest] • CHIKVET [Georgia] • BLACKSTR • ZAMBONI [Pure Michigan plate] • PBNYAY [Oregon plate] 8NANDAN [Ohio plate] • GRN GOO [on a private jeep painted U.S. Army colours] • STENSHOP [on a Hummer] • MUCH & MUCH 2 [Ontario, Canada plates on a pair of motorcycles northbound on A1A. I tried to catch up to them to  see if they were colleagues from MUCHMusic, but they were too fast for the Grey Ghost]

I’m sure I’ll be collecting more Vanity Plates as time goes on.

A Hurricane Refugee Unpacks ► Unpacking The Writer

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Apologies to my faithful readers. I know the Not Now Silly Newsroom has been idle lately. To start I’ve needed to Lyft to keep up with my bills. Then along comes Hurricane Irma, which I fled before she ever arrived.

I lived through Hurricane Wilma, which was a Cat 2. Irma was a monster which, at one point, was a Cat 5 and headed straight for the condo. I decided that I didn’t want to see a 5. I had my hurricane fun during Wilma. So I fucked off, in the vernacular.

Drove to the Detroit area, where I have family and friends. Shared driving and expenses with a fellow I’ve known as a facefriend for several years, but we’ve never met before. I packed Marley up, picked Steve up in Boca Raton, and we headed north where we had adventures on the roads. This includes 18 hours trying to get out of Florida in bumper-to-bumper traffic with gas availability troubles. But, we got to Michigan eventually.

This is what they do when Rest Areas have no power. Welcome to the New World Order.

These ROAD TRIP stories go into the pipeline, if I ever get to them.

Click to read about previous Road Trips.

Definitely in the pipeline is a new Pastoral Letter, for those that enjoy that series.

I had been banging away at one in a desultory fashion before I left. However, on this trip to Michigan I took another drive to Ann Arbor. This time I had the honour to watch Pastor Ken Pastorize his flock at Blue Ocean Faith.

That was followed by lunch with several of Ken’s parishioners, one of whom I may have made hate me. That’s a story I will definitely write about. Stay tuned.

Then I convinced Ken to visit the old neighbourhood in Detroit, some of which I posted on the LIVE facebookery. [Trying to figure out how to post those here.] All of this time spent with my oldest friend in the world not only focused my thoughts on the next Pastoral Letter, but has also given me insight on many of the other topics the Not Now Silly Newsroom tends to commission from me. So, look for some of that sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile, here’s Pastor Ken Wilson giving me a Shout Out and then going on to talk about his struggle in finding his place within Jesus Christ. I’ve probably described it wrong, but I found it fascinating. Your mileage may vary.

10 Sep 2017—Blue Ocean Faith Ann Arbor Celebration
from Blue Ocean Faith Ann Arbor on Vimeo.

ALSO: I think I’ve figured out a way to go back to writing about Miami politics. Therefore, consider my recusal a partial recusal. I just have to find the exact right wording. So, you can also look for that.

Taking Marley on a Road Trip was an experience. I’ve never traveled with a cat before and Marley has never spent much time in a car before. I hope The Traveling Cat is a post I can eventually get around to. Suffice to say for now: Marley did wonderfully in the car for all those hours. She got to the point where she wandered around the car at will, including on my lap and under my feet, while I was driving. Ahem.

A shameless plug for my other traveling companion:

Steve Dibert is a Mortgage Fraud Investigator.

Altho’ we’ve been facefriends for several years, we had never met. After almost 50 hours together in a car, we’re tight now and he knows enough to blackmail me. He tolerated Marley, even tho’ he’s allergic. He tolerated all my stupid stories. He tolerated all of my tunes without complaint, including — and especially — the hours and hours of Frank Zappa. [No exaggeration. Not only did we hear nearly 8 hours of Frank Zappa, but I explained everything I knew about every one of the songs.] And, after all of that, he didn’t kill me.

If you need some mortgage fraud investigation, give MFI Miami a try.

I went to a great Drum Circle at this place [pic to the right]. It’s the 2nd time I’ve been there over the years, and I will write a little bit about it eventually. I want to compare it to Drum Circles I know.

While in Michigan (as I always do) I talked to marijuana enthusiasts and learned more about the Michigan MMJ laws. This will eventually be published as a long-form article, but I’ve been adding to my knowledge and connections for years.

As well, I made a business connection on this trip which could put me on ground floor of a start-up [tangentially] in that field. You’ll be the first to know when I can announce that. However, I don’t want to be on the ground floor. I want to be on the elevator to the penthouse. Rub your lucky rabbit foot.

There’s more in the pipeline, but here’s the bottom line, literally: 10 days away from my Lyfting — and the gas money and other associated expenses of running away — has really put a hurt on my bank account. I’ll try to post a few quick one-offs in the coming week, but I’m really going to have to hunker down behind the wheel of the Grey Ghost and grind out the Lyfts. If I can drive to Michigan and back, this should be a cinch.

See you on the flip flop.

Why Spotting Neo-Nazi Websites Isn’t That Easy

Why Spotting Neo-Nazi Websites Isn’t That Easy

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article. White supremacy is woven into the tapestry of American culture, online and off–in both physical monuments and online domain names. A band of tiki-torch-carrying white nationalists gathered first online, and then at the site of a Jim Crow-era Confederate monument in Charlottesville, Virginia. Addressing… Continue reading Why Spotting Neo-Nazi Websites Isn’t That Easy →

Toupee Or Not Toupee ► Throwback Thursday

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While the Not Now Silly Newsroom is now a mix of digital and analog, there was a time when it was 100% analog.

As a semi-hoarder, I still have most of the paper I generated during The Analog Years, a 3-decade period when I did a lot of freelance writing. It’s all in a 4-drawer, forest green file cabinet, which stands 53 inches tall, 14.25″ wide and 24″ deep, stuffed to the gills.

I say “all”, but it’s only been like that as of yesterday because for the last 12 years I’ve not had access to my file cabinet. During that time I just chunked all my research — and ephemera — into 2 big banker’s boxes. Because I could no longer find what I needed in those boxes, I decided to finally file all that paper where it truly belonged.

Consequently, last week I spent 2 hours integrating one of the banker’s boxes into the file cabinet into alphabetical order. Yesterday I spent another 2 hours with the 2nd banker’s box. Now all my files are integrated again. Peace reigns again over the kingdom.

While filing all of these documents I came across some real treasures and some real oddities, both of which reflect my obsessions. In the treasures category are pictures that my children drew. After they left from a weekend visit, I always collected every scribble they and dropped it into a file under N, for NOSTALGIA.

However, the NOSTALGIA file has far more than children’s drawings. There are many magazines I’ve saved, from those with Barack Obama on the cover, to magazines with obituaries of my favorite artists.

However, it’s the oddities that I plan to highlight over several Throwback Thursdays, because they illuminate some of my more bizarre obsessions.

First up this Thursday:

The TOUPEE File

I have been fascinated by toupees as long as I can remember. At one time I collected everything I could find on toupees, even to the point of corresponding with a variety of hair-piece companies. I attempted to sell a freelance article on “Toupees and the Men Who Wear Them”, or “Hair Today; Gone Tomorrow”, or “Toupee Or Not Toupee”. It didn’t matter what I called it; I could never convince a single publication that it would be freelance dollars well-spent for this kind of insightful material.

I’m convinced all those editors had a really bad rug and didn’t want to insult them.

Regardless, the file eventually grew to be an inch thick. Clipped to the outside was a running tally of every Hollywood star who wore a rug. There’s enough material in this file that I might be able to sell an article on toupees after all. Here’s just a small sample of the material, because I couldn’t include it all.

Moral Dilemmas ► UpLyfting Thoughts #6


The Grey Ghost at rest

While Lyfting is a relatively new thing to me, I’ve been giving RIDES for the last 12 years.

It started the day I arrived in Florida 12 years ago to take care of Pops. My Mom was in the hospital for a hip replacement and the RIDES business was hers before I got here. That’s what was written on the business card: RIDES. She also advertised in the little local flyer and took people to doctors’ appointments, grocery shopping, and airport runs; wherever people needed to go.

When I got there Pops had been running himself ragged, not only running back and forth to the hospital to spend as much time with her as he could, but he was also servicing her clients. I took over the latter so he could concentrate on the former, and golf.

My very first clients were a pair of sisters, known far and wide as The Sisters. They both had bright red, dyed hair, that may have actually been red at one time. One of them lived in the very next condo building. The other in a house about a mile away. They were my only clients with a standing appointment; others called when they wanted to book a ride.

Every Thursday at noon I’d pick up The Sisters and we were off shopping.

Actually, the word “shopping” does not do it justice. I never knew where we were going before I picked them up, but it was always an adventure. We’d spend the afternoon going to 3, 4, or 5 different stores, getting home at dinnertime. Mostly it was a rotating series of stores from Target, to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, to K-Mart, to the Kosher butcher. The last stop of the day was always Publix, where they did their grocery shopping while I also did mine. It took me 15 minutes to shop. It took them an hour.

I’d wait for them in the car in the parking, reading a book with the tunes cranked up. When they had loaded up their carts and paid for all their crap, they’d call me on my cell phone and I’d swing around to wherever I dropped them to load up the trunk. Some weeks the trunk filled up and we had to put the overflow in the back seat.

MORAL DILEMMA #1: Also in the building next door is a bonded pair of snowbirds. I’ve been taking them  back and forth to the Fort Lauderdale airport for the past 6 years. This spring while flying to New York they actually remarked that I hadn’t changed my price in all that time.

True story: When my mother was still doing it, the fixed price to the airport was $20, which I adopted. After a year, or two, I goosed it to $25 when gas spiked. Later I noticed others advertising $30 to the airport, so I shrugged and matched that price. After several years I hiked it to $35, where it’s been for the past 6 years.

It may seem like a lot. After all the airport is only 15 miles away. However, people could book a run to the airport months in advance and relax, knowing I will be there 5 minutes early. More importantly: I had mastered the extremely tricky pick-up at the airport, being able to time my arrival with the arrival of their baggage.

At that price I had a lot of repeat, regular airport clients. However, all these prices were set in the days when a Lyft app was just a gleam in some programmer’s monitor.

The Lyft price to the airport from this neighbourhood is about $18. Do I tell the snowbirds I that drive for Lyft and they could get this cheaper. Or, do I just keep doing what I’m doing?

MORAL DILEMMA #2: In this same building is a Lyft driver. I met him recently when I was going to one of The Sisters. I told him I had noticed the Lyft sticker and he started telling me all about it. Because he started up immediately — almost non-stop — and because I was pressed for time, I never got to tell him that I was also a Lyft driver. Should I?

Whenever I am setting out for my first Lyft of the day, at about 5AM, I can’t help but look to see whether his SUV is in his space. It always is. Later, when I’ve bounced around with 4 or 5 Lyfters, his vehicle is gone when I get back home.

Back to The Sisters, because that’s where this all started.

H&C have been my clients for more than 12 years. As they’ve gotten older, their shopping prowess has suffered greatly. As the years passed we visited fewer stores each Thursday until they were so infirm they could no longer get out. That’s when I started doing their grocery (and occasionally other) shopping for them. For the past 3 years I go to Publix with 2 lists (and 2 credit cards), getting them whatever they need to last another week.

Yesterday was Thursday and The Sisters canceled!!!

The elder sister (next door) is in the hospital. She fell again and she couldn’t get up. She falls 2 or 3 times a week, sometimes more. She’s a very large woman and cannot get to her feet by herself. So, she has a button she wears around her neck and the paramedics come running when she presses it. Amazingly, as much as she falls lately, this is the only time she’s been hurt enough to go to the hospital.

Meanwhile, I’m in a holding pattern today to see whether I am needed to take the younger sister to the hospital. However, it looks like I could be losing one of my longest clients soon because I don’t know how much longer H will be able to live alone.

Not Now Silly Turns To The Dark Arts

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I can now reveal what I was only able to hint at last week: I am moving to the dark side of politics. I am collaborating on a book with a politician, Miami District 2 Commissioner Ken Russell.

I became a writer because I wanted to tell stories — because I needed to tell stories. It was less that I chose writing than writing chose me. Words just tumbled out of me. Putting it down on paper was my only outlet. In the beginning, it was fiction and furtive. Short stories that no one ever saw, thankfully.

I look back on my earliest stuff and shudder. However, I’ve worked these past 4 decades honing my craft. From a giveaway music fanzine in the ’70s, to hired wordsmithing for a Canadian trade publication read around the world. By the time I was 25 I could truly call myself a professional writer. Over the years I written everything from Investigative Journalism, Record Reviews, Artist Profiles, Copy Writing, Hollywood Reporter, finally landing at Citytv, Toronto, for a decade as a Tee Vee News Writer. I called myself a ventriloquist because I put the words in the mouths of the meat puppets (a joke that has not endeared me to my former colleagues).

I parlayed my knowledge of tee vee news into writing Fox “News” criticism, first at NewsHounds and, later, PoliticusUSA. I’ve also become an internationally known pundit — if you call what I do on Twitter and the facebookery punditry.

What I’m most proud of is the Not Now Silly Newsroom and my stories about the City of Miami and Coconut Grove. The Grove had more stories to tell than I had time for.

Now there are stories that I will no longer be able to write — some of which are already in the pipeline — because I have to recuse myself from stories about Miami. I’ve joined the other side.

Q: What does Headly Westerfield and Jeffery Beauregard Sessions have in common?
A: They have both recused themselves.

If I’ve written anything at all about politicians in the past 10 years, it’s to call them names and make fun of them. Especially now that we’ve arrived in the Trump Era. However, I’ve long been fascinated by Russell from the day we first met.

He was still a private citizen back then.

I was still trying to land my White Whale: [allegedly] corrupt Miami District 2 Commissioner Marc D. Sarnoff. Russell was fighting Sarnoff’s inadequate plan — developed in secret (as many of Sarnoff’s plans were) — to remediate the toxic soil in Merrie Christmas Park, which was across the street from his house.

This was one of 8 parks in the city closed after toxic soil was found in each of them.

Aside from the inadequate remediation, Sarnoff had also ILLEGALLY declared the park and its surrounds a Brownfield site, without any of the proper public hearings and neighbourhood notifications. As one of the first journalists to report on Soilgate, I cold-called Russell to interview him on the toxic soil issue.

We met in a coffee shop and had a pleasant enough interview. However, in the back of my mind I was thinking, “Okay. I get it. He’s worried about the toxic soil, because his kids play in the park, and his own property values.”

However, near the end of the interview, he surprised me. He said something to the effect of, “Now that we’ve hired a lawyer, it appears Merrie Christmas Park will be remediated properly. However, I’m worried about the parks in the neighbourhoods where people don’t have the resources to take on the City of Miami.”

Well, whaddaya know? This guy has a social conscious.

But that’s where it ended. I had no reason to contact Russel again until he decided to run for Miami District 2 Commissioner to replace Sarnoff, who had been termed out. Russell was considered a dark horse in a race that had 8 people vying for the seat, most of whom had better name recognition that he did.

Renewing contact, Russell allowed me to go with him on Door Knocks. Rain or shine, he visited nearly every house and condo in the district, talking to voters in both English and Spanish; 2 of the 6 languages he’s conversant in. In between houses we talked and I got to know him better. More importantly, I got to like him.

I had never liked a politician before.

While Russell didn’t win on the first ballot, he won the run-off against Teresa Sarnoff, the wife of the term limited Commissioner.

On the day he took his Oath of Office to the City of Miami, Russell graciously allowed me to embed myself with him for the entire day. I met his family, who turned out to be one of the most photogenic families I’ve ever seen. Also, one of the more multicultural families.

Here’s the Cliff Notes version of the Ken Russell story.

His father Jack was a a professional Yo Yo Champion. In the ’40s he invented and patented an improvement to yo yos that became the industry standard. If you’ve ever played with a yo yo, it’s likely it was a Genuine Russell Yo Yo.

This took Ken’s father around the world, promoting the Russell Yo Yo. While in Japan he met that country’s Yo Yo Champion, fell in love, and married her. How’s that for a Meet Cute story?

Eventually along came Ken, who also became a professional Yo Yo Champion, traveling the world — and promoting the product — like his father and mother had done before him. Daft Punk has even licensed the Russell Yo Yo for branded merchandise.

While he can still be cajoled into performing yo yo tricks, Ken eventually moved into woodworking and started a paddle/surf board company, which is what he was doing before he found politics. Or. did politics find him?

Coconut Grove, the community I adopted, is a small part of Russell’s District 2, which also includes downtown.

As a result I often found myself contacting Russel’s office for comments and quotes. I watched Ken as he stumbled and made some missteps while trying to wrap his arms around the intricacies of the office. The learning curve in becoming a politician — and understanding the city machinery — has been tremendous. Russell has made some rookie mistakes, which he acknowledges. However, he’s also identified some creative solutions that, if adopted, could address the poverty and systemic racism that has kept West Grove down during the last century.

Recently Russell was approached by some Movers and Shakers to run for Congress in Florida’s 27th District, to replace Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, who has decided she’s had enough politics for the time being.

He’s still pondering his decision, deciding whether it makes sense to declare as a candidate for the 2018 midterms.

Let this sink in for a second: Russell has been a City of Miami Commissioner — his first elected post ever — less than 2 years. Yet there are already people who think he could go further. The entire concept is a surreal.

However, this got me thinking: If anybody is going to write what I’ve taken to calling The Ken Russell Story (for the lack of a better name), I wanted it to be me.

About a month ago I approached Russell with the idea to collaborate on a book. Miraculously, he didn’t tell me to GTFO. In fact, he listened carefully as I outlined several different approaches such a book could take. After pondering it for a while, Russell agreed to collaborate.

That’s why I have now recused myself from writing about Miami politics.

I have officially crossed over to the other side. I am excited about being able to watch the sausage being made. Whether Russell decides to run for Congress, and win or lose, we’ve agreed that this book will go forward.

I’ll still publish various kinds of stories in the Not Now Silly Newsroom (several of which are already in the pipeline). However, now that I am shadowing the Commissioner, I have signed a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t use anything I learn while being a fly-on-the-wall in meetings until the book is published, or I am released from this agreement, whichever comes first.

This is a brand new adventure for me. Wish me luck.