Finally, The Truth

OK, Everybody, I'm finally going to tell you the Truth!

Rich people are nice. Poor people are lazy. If you don't have health care you just plain don't deserve it. War is necessary to defend our fine democracy, even when the so-called "war" involves invading and occupying sovereign countries and stealing their oil.

If a musician is promoted by the music industry, he or she is a genius and you should adore this person, even though your gut instinct is telling you the music really SUCKS. Do NOT listen to your gut instinct. It is usually wrong. Whatever Madison Ave, TV ads, Campaign promos, the government or anyone else selling ANYTHING says is RIGHT. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT listen to your gut instinct, your inner wisdom or anything else. If you do, you will always be wrong.

A woman cannot be trusted. She is prone to lying and deceit. So if a man, whether he is a famous athlete or a bum on the street, says the sex was consensual, it WAS. Rape is only a fabrication in the minds of some loose women. It happens very very rarely--and then, only in cases when some neutral male witness can corroborate the story of the weak-minded woman.

If you are homeless, it is your own fault. You should have known better than to listen to your banker or mortgage broker. I don't care how earnest they appeared to be or how many stats they pushed at you, YOU should have KNOWN they were lying!

Bail-outs to rich guys, i.e. bankers, wall-street dudes and CEOS, does NOT amount to welfare for the rich, no matter how often you hear these lies from pinko leftists. Tax breaks for these guys also is NOT welfare. They DESERVE these millions! These guys work hard for their money, harder than any janitor working 2 jobs to support her family will EVER work! Even when you see a CEO on vacay in the Bahamas, believe me they are ALWAYS working.

And NO, they are NOT exploiting the poor. If you are poor, it's your own fault, bad karma. Had you had better karma, you would have been born into a wealthy family, gone to the best schools, graduated from Harvard and be running your own company by now. The fact that none of that happened for you MUST mean you were a REAL a-hole in a previous life. So shut up about it!

Let's face it. Males are just generally smarter than women. Didn't Larry Summers, the ex-prez of Harvard make some such statement regarding science and women? Doesn't he work for Obama now? So if he said it, it must be true! And even if he didn't...come on! Why would men talk SO much and SO loudly while so many women sit there and demurely take in all these words if the words weren't truly AMAZING, fascinating and just generally AWESOME, dude?

And as far as global warming or climate change goes, it just doesn't exist. So WHAT if a few glaciers are melting? There are plenty more where those came from. So WHAT if the weather seems to have gotten extremely intense and unpredictable and bizarre these last few years? Blame it on El Nino. Nobody really knows what El Nino is, anyway.

That's my truth-telling for today. More to come.

Bob, Al Green and The Witch of Salem

So last week I met Bob, who was thin and drunk and mustachioed and shivering on a bus bench, after catching the Rev. Al Green in concert at the House of Blues. [Al was great, inspiring and charming, incredible band, two WONDERFUL drummers, but the show was a tad brief...sorry Rev. Al!]

I thought maybe Bob wanted the bench space to himself, so when he turned to me, I said, "Sorry--just waiting for the One Bus to Cambridge". Bob replied, "Do you have a cell phone?" Warily, I said, "Yeah. Do you need to use it?", hoping he would not abscond with it, or maybe worse, vomit on my phone. Bob said, "Can you call 911 for me? I'm dying here."

Wow. Now I felt like a jerk, for thinking bad thoughts about Bob. I'm familiar with that "I'm dying here" feeling, so I asked, "What's going on?" Bob held out his gnarled shaking hands and said, "I can't stop shaking. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the cold, but I feel like I'm dying. I need to get to a hospital." It was really cold and damp. Bob's short green jacket was way too thin for the weather. I figured maybe Bob had hypothermia, and I told him so.

Bob told me he felt like laying down on the bench and going to sleep. He leaned over. I tugged on his jacket and said, "I don't think that's a good idea. You really need to stay awake." That's what I remembered from Red Cross training in high school. Drugs, head trauma, hypothermia. Keep the victim awake til they get to the hospital.

As I fished in my backpack for my phone, Bob explained to me he had already asked several passersby if they could help by calling 911, but everyone had ignored him. Oh yes, Boston, that warmest and kindest of all places!

I called 911. I explained that I thought Bob had hypothermia, and could they get there ASAP? The woman on the other end said, "five or ten minutes".

To take Bob's mind off his distress while we waited, I decided to make conversation. I asked his name-- "Bob", his age "45", and where he was from "Salem". "I wish I was there now, " said Bob.

"Oh, yeah, the Witch Capital of the Northeast," I commented. Bob eyed my long red hair and black and red clothing and asked, "Are you a witch?" I said "No", but Bob didn't believe me.

"It's OK with me, I don't mind witches," he said, to reassure me.

I told him, "It's not that I don't believe in that stuff, I just think you have to be very, very careful with it, or it can come back and bite you in the ass." Bob nodded in agreement.

I looked down Mass Ave toward the Hynes Center, hoping the ambulance would arrive quickly. I didn't want to miss my bus.

"I know Laurie Cabot, the Witch of Salem," Bob announced.

"You do?" I asked.

Bob said, "Yep. I went to high school with her daughter."

I nodded, curious about what was coming next.

"Her daughter and I got caught smoking weed together one day at school. Sent to the principal's office. They called our Moms. My Mom got there first. Then a big black limousine pulled up in front of the school. Laurie Cabot got out, 6 feet tall, hair to her waist, long black robes, carrying a skull and a witch's staff."

"A skull?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yep," said Bob. "A skull...so anyways, my Mom started to speak up, but my Mom looked kinda normal. I took one look at Laurie Cabot, and said to my Mom, 'I think we better let Laurie Cabot handle this.' "

"So did Laurie Cabot 'handle' it?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said Bob. "You shoulda seen the look on the principal's face." Bob made his eyes huge and terrified. "He was scared to death. They let us go home with just a warning."

I laughed, loudly. Bob laughed too. Passersby with zealously guarded cell phones looked over to see what all the happy ruckus was about. Bob and I laughed some more, while Bob shivered and I listened for the ambulance.

A few minutes, both the ambulance and the bus pulled up. Bob told me to go ahead and grab my bus, but I figured I should wait to make sure he was properly cared for. He wobbled badly getting on the ambulance, but the emergency worker didn't think he had hypothermia. She put a latex-gloved hand inside the top of this shirt to touch his bare skin. No explanation to Bob about what she was doing. I thought this was disrespectful. Bob was drunk, not comatose. But she said since his skin was warm, if he had hypothermia, it was mild. Bob looked a little annoyed by her hand on his chest, but I think he was mostly worried about dyin' at that moment, so he didn't say anything.

They had a heater in the ambulance and blasted it directly at Bob. I waited until they left in the direction of the Boston Medical Center. I hope the doctors there took good care of Bob. I hope someone gives Bob a proper winter coat. I hope Bob gets into detox, soon. And that it sticks this time.

Bob has some great stories to tell. I'm pretty sure that with the life he has lived, he has a couple dozen books inside of him desperate to get out.

Thanks Bob, for letting me sit next to you, and sharing your amazing story. I feel really lucky. Sorry for worrying about my stupid phone. Hope you are OK.