LA Eastside

I can see how slavery lasted so long in the United States. Most people in the US didn’t own slaves, though most everyone benefited indirectly, so is the case of the migrant worker.

I like to call migrant workers PC slaves, since people can pretend as if they aren’t doing anything wrong by casually buying clothes, food and other products that people produce who are paid virtually nothing.

I know many people will whine and bitch about how it’s migrant workers choice, but I don’t think you have a choice if you’re a human being in regards to whether you live or die.

And in order to buy food and shelter you need money and that’s not a fact that is up for debate, correct?

So why would anyone say you have a choice in regards to working? Do migrant workers have trust funds? Are they slumming? They have to work to live.

I was reading one of my most favorite rags, the Economist. That’s pretty much the only way I can find out what kind of nastiness the US economy is actually in, since over here in the states people are insistent that there are signs of a recession, but refuse to say the “R” word. It is as if they think it’s a racial slur or something.

“A CAMPAIGN to improve the low wages and awful labour conditions of tomato pickers in Florida has notched up a substantial victory over farm owners and their biggest clients, the fast-food chains. After one embarrassment on top of another, Burger King backed down last month and reached a ground-breaking agreement with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers, representing mostly seasonal farmworkers from Mexico, Central America and Haiti. The Miami-based company agreed to pay them one cent more for every pound (450g) of tomatoes they pick, and to improve their working conditions.” From the Economist, The Price of a tomato. June 26, 2008.

This is the kind of country that we live in, where assholes will fight so that they won’t have to pay a person one penny extra, not a dollar, not a quarter, but one bloody penny. But it’s not just that the guy will fight to not pay that one penny, but the fact that in America that’s all we will fight for. That’s all we’ll help someone fight for.

We will fight for one penny (or half of one percent )  and get slapped down and keep working, because we don’t want to seem unreasonable.

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It’s been there for as long as I can remember right on the corner of Brooklyn (Cesar Chavez) and Soto. I notice it every time I pass by it and shortly reflect on its decrepit conditions. However today being the Fourth of July I couldn’t help noticing some irony.

On a day when the families are celebrating by going to the beach or having a bbq, it’s easy to forget those who came before us. Passing by it so often, I’ve gotten use to it being the way it is, but one days like today I realize that I walked passed it with a blind eye for the last time. This post may be the first step into one day getting this memorial site up to the standards and condition it needs to be in. The more people that know about it the better. 

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There’s nothing like relaxing on a hot summer day and enjoying an ice cream cone. The only thing that makes it better is that it’s being sold by two of my favorite characters, Esponga Bob y EL CHAVO!. Good times.

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Not all of them, but some, yes.

This past Tuesday, July 1st, Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and his Partnership for L.A. Schools took control of ten LAUSD schools: Ritter Elementary and Markham Middle School in Watts, 99th St. Elementary, Figueroa Elementary, Gompers Middle, and Santee Educational Complex in South L.A., and Sunrise Elementary, Hollenbeck Middle, Stevenson Middle, and Roosevelt High in Boyle Heights.

This Partnership is a result of his failed attempt at taking control of a larger number of LAUSD schools via Assembly Bill 1381, which was eventually ruled unconstitutional. These schools are under the Partnership’s control for the next five years, and if this Partnership shows results, it will most likely be instituted in a wider basis. (more…)

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“Summer ‘08, List to Accomplish” a short novel by Fulana DeTal

It was already July, and I could tell that this summer could suck like all the rest unless I put my mind to some serious changes in my life. I rolled out of bed despite my ass begging to stay put, and threw what I could grab into my purse. I had two bus tokens left and two minutes left on my cell phone. 2+2=4. 4 means the #4 bus westbound bus. I was going to the beach! (more…)

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When I was a little kid, we were too poor to afford fireworks. I suppose I can’t blame my pyrotechnic poverty just on being poor, but more on the fact that my mother didn’t think any part of the welfare check should be spent on frivolity. If we got fireworks, we didn’t get clothes, or we didn’t get food. Sure, it was a practical choice, but as a kid, you just want to rip into the hundred dollar “Independence Day” box of fireworks.

Our fireworkslessness meant that in the days leading up to the Fourth of July every year, we’d visit our more affluent friends and watch them light fireworks. Back then this annual ritual led me to conclude that socio-economic status could be identified by the characteristics of your fireworks.

If you had no color, just sound, you weren’t poor, but you weren’t living in a mansion. You lived in an apartment and shared a bedroom with a couple of siblings. The same went for fireworks with no sound, and just smoke.

If you had fireworks that were colorful, but just rolled around on the ground, you lived in one of the houses in a duplex.

If your fireworks shot color into the air, and did so while crackling, at least one of your parents had a full-time job and probably owned a house with a yard and a driveway (or at least they’d found a way to live in one).

In my family, we didn’t have any fireworks before and up to the Fourth of July. We didn’t get to light something and have sound, or color. Maybe, if we got lucky, someone handed us a sparkler. In the bad years, they handed us the punk used to light the fireworks. Yep, there’s the poor kid, the one with the smoldering ember.

Occasionally, when the sounds of Fourth of July were so muddled that you couldn’t tell the fireworks from the gunshots fired into the air, we pretended to be fireworks. I mean, if you’re a nine-year-old and you scream from a low tone to a very high one, you sound kind of like a Piccolo Pete. And besides, by nightfall, no one even knows what’s going on in neighboring yards, driveways, or streets. Everyone is just staring into the sky, looking for something to make the darkness light. That means there is no risk of being seen joining the cacophony of Independence Day sound, while in your pajamas, from just inside your apartment’s living room window. (more…)

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I came to the sad realization today that I don’t have any big plans for the summer, or at least none worthy of going on a list. But after finding this note above, apparently written by a dreamy-eyed teenage girl, I think I might jot down a few things of my own to do in the weeks ahead. Click over to see the exciting conclusion to this found note!

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This morning the South Central Farmers held a press conference and informational picket downtown at Los Angeles City Hall to object to the building of an industrial warehouse.  Most disturbing is that the City Planning Department has announced plans to allow this warehouse to be built where the South Central Farm once flourished.   Even more worrisome is that a required standard guideline for an Environmental Impact Report has not even been made for this warehouse project.  Farm representatives and area residents believe that a warehouse of this nature will create more pollution in the area, watershed damage, traffic congestion, poor air quality, increase health hazards, and contribute further to greenhouse emissions.

I was born and grew up in San Diego, then moved to Los Angeles in my early 20’s.   It was quite a shock visiting a friend in Maywood one night and witnessing the factory lights illuminating the skies as if it were daytime!   Later, I found out that there is never darkness in Maywood and that the immigrant families that comprise the majority of residents there live with it.   Isn’t darkness deprivation some sort of heinous torture tactic?

About two years ago I bought a home in Boyle Heights.  The first time I smelled the pollution emitted from the slaughter houses in Vernon, I thought something had died and was decaying in my yard.  I looked everywhere, even under the house for the cause of that odor.  It took me two months to figure out what that repugnant permeating smell was.

Maywood and Vernon are blocks from where the South Central Farm once stood.  Isn’t there enough pollution and stagnant space there already?  We don’t have to accept the special interest groups and their politicians dumping on our neighborhoods while they boost their personal careers and fill their pockets.  Such city planning would not be acceptable in Malibu or Beverly Hills—we don’t have to accept it either.

Please check in on the South Central Farmers’ website for up coming actions on working together to restore our communities into healthier environments.    www.southcentralfarmers.com

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I’m a vegetarian. In fact I’m vegan when it comes to me purchasing my own food, I don’t wear leather or fur, but I’ve got a human bone to pick with PETA.

Their latest stunt of vapidity (or an out of work actress who claims to be part of PETA and feels this is probably a good way to get publicity and be part of the new movement of caring and eco-greeniness) was to go into downtown LA’s fashion district to stop illegal animal sales.

What was the point of that?

1. To me there are no legal animal sales, even the donation pay for shots variety of rescues is morally “illegal”.
2. But in regards to community building and educating a more broad reaching community of people does PETA think going in and fighting with an underground business by working class people of color is going to get more people on the side of animal rights? Or even save that many animals.

I’m going to guess no on point two. I’m going to guess PETA comes off like the assholes that harass people for not having “proper” citizenship papers or just not looking like you belong.

Why not antagonize the people who get people’s hands chopped off in the beef industry? There’s a packing plant in Chino (Westland/Hallmark), I’m going to bet lots of animals get hurt in there and probably quite a few people.

I guess that would be a little too scary for an actress type who just wants to jump start a career. That would be hardcore. That would be doing something, but of course messing up a rich white guy’s (who doesn’t has too many vowels in his name) business will get you thrown in jail. Jail time for anything more than a DUI isn’t very fashionable.

Trying to be a person who believes in social justice and at the same time supporting the causes of PETA is very, very difficult.
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Memories of a Lost Boulevard Series, A Tribute to Whittier Boulevard

Whittier Boulevard Movie Theaters, Part 2.

THE GARMAR THEATER

2325 Whittier Blvd., Montebello, CA

As I was speaking to someone the other day about this lost Montebello movie house, A long time resident who was standing within earshot came up and sighed; “The Garmar! I loved that Show! If you couldn’t afford the Golden Gate, you couldn’t afford the Garmar! (more…)

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