Today, this holiday is brought to you by LABOR. Everything the "middle class" has today is because millions of people before us fought for it. Capital never gave labor anything. Labor won it through battle.
Today there is a movement to organize fast food workers for a decent wage. I urge people to not eat at fast food restaurants, the fallen arches, burger queens, taco hell, etc. that are on strike. There's plenty of places to eat. Support these workers in their fight to attain a better life for themselves and their families. Feeding people is one of the most rewarding jobs in the world, and it's also one of the most physically demanding.
This would include supporting the BART workers, and all working peoples here at home and around the globe, people fighting for a living wage. There are millions of people still living in servitude.
We're all doomed, but at least we can go down with a fight, and support the people who are fighting.
I'm not going to go into a long Marxist diatribe today because those of you who read this blog know I'm philosophically apposed to the current ruling elite. There is a growing gap in this world, and in this country, between the rich and the poor. If you don't think it can't happen here, you should consider it again. The chasm is deep and wide. As our power worldwide diminishes capital will come home to roost. Capital constantly needs new markets, it needs to feed, and when it don't eat it gets mean. This is the food part of the blog, short, but sweet.
Think of it like this. We are living in a country which is in a state of moribund capitalism, and what it will evolve or devolve into is any one's guess. We may still have some good or great years ahead of us, so party on. I've said this before and I mean it, "Someone tell me a solution that makes fucking sense." Lord knows I ain't got anything.
Till then please support your sons and daughter, brothers, and sisters in their fight for economic justice. Don't eat where people are striking. It's that simple. Go on to the next joint. And when that one's on strike go back to the won their strike because no one would cross it. Crossing a picket line is called scabbing, and that's just what it is. I always thought it should have been called stabbing, because that's what you're doing to your brothers and sisters, stabbing them in the back.
Check out the story in the East Bay Express 8-28/9-3 edition by; Darwin BondGraham and Ali Winston titled; Oakland's Surveillance Contractor Has A History Of Fraud. That's where our money's going babies. Someone to watch over us.
Today is a fast day, but it didn't take. I hit the pre-birthday binge, as I'll call it, right after the flat rear tire of my new bike blew out about a 1/2 mile south of old Jack London Square. Our friend Janet and myself huffed it to this bar right at the main entrance. The pizza was very good, service attentive, outdoor roomy scene, good tap beer, while Geri peddled her skinny ass back to the house, got the Subaru, came back downtown. We got the bikes and Janet back home beat up and worn out, and here I am now, not really.
The day started when Geri, at 5:15 am, decided to be super productive and crank up the dish washer, and do a load when it starting overflowing on the kitchen tile. Woke up, got the water off, we saved the ship from flooding, and it was all magic, all of it. The flood, the flat, livin' and lovin'.
Speaking of living. Long live the working class.
That's it.
Peace,
Make Food/Not War
Food Consumption;
Breakfast; black coffee w/sugar
Lunch; Turkey/cheese paninni sandwich, single cappuccino cream, sugar, chocolate, cinnamon
Dinner; 1 Bloody Mary, 3 beers, Alice, 1/2 pizza, peanuts, lots of water
Exercise; 1mile walking, 3.5 hrs cycling something like 25 miles
I feel like I worked off that Puerto Rican meal the other night, the bloody Mary, and the beers I had today, but I'm still back at square one, aka 210, the calories just might discount the workout. You gotta laugh, and you gotta have fun. I'm living in the Mediterranean of the West. Tomorrow I walk the line.
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