FREE MARKET FRANKENSTEIN FISHING TALES

Republicans always equate “Free Market”

With teaching a man how to fish

When you own all the boats and equipment

It’s much easier

To put salmon

Filet mignon

In your dish

It’s economically feasible

When you are filthy rich

To control all the “river” banks

Orchestrate all fishing regulations

‘Cause politicians want to join your ranks

It’s more easy to overcharge prices

Due to the monopoly

You have bought on catching the fish

Economic colonies to monopolies

Then you want the mass

To kiss your ass

For donating one piece

To a poor man’s dish

 

THE COALITION OF BLACK BRAVE LOCAL 46 PIONEERS

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Photo by Lex Photography on Pexels.com

Retirees and those who tied slab in the 1980s remember, The Coalition, as a fierce and determined group of minorities intent on forging a path into the construction industry.

They used to show up at the jobsite right around 11:00 AM; guns drawn, bats in hand, ready to strike anyone that moved.

The foremen instructed everyone to STOP WORKING.

THE COALITION – (black, brown, latino, chinese) – would then have one of its leader’s negotiate with the General Contractor for a few men to be placed as laborers on the project.

Workers were usually sent for an early lunch.

Most times, The Coalition was successful in placing a member or two on the project.

The GC’s were unwilling to risk further slow-downs.

The reason for the formation of The Coalition was the outright racism shown by The Building Trades in hiring minorities.

Unions were pre-dominantly a white father-son business.

The first minority members in our union, and others, caught hell.

I worked with many of these hard-working Lathers back in the 1980s. (I was in my early 20s and these guys were much older).

At that time there was a fierce battle being waged by whites against the inclusion of the minorities.

My father was part of that backlash as were many of the Lathers of that time period.

These men had been brought up all of their lives being made to feel superior.

They did not want any minorities in Local 46.

There was huge resentment over the government mandate to open up the membership to minorities. (My father had a picture of John F. Kennedy proudly displayed in our living room. He named his first-born son after the former President. That picture was unceremoniously thrown out of our third floor apartment building one night after Kennedy enacted laws to help minorities join unions).

The first minorities were treated like enemies.

Minorities were only allowed to tie slab and do the most difficult lathing work.

Being a lather is a tough business.

Tying rebar or slab is an actual War of Attrition.

Bending down, stooped over, tying rebar together with tie wire for one hour is torture enough. Tying slab all day is a whole ‘nother animal. Lifting and carrying rebar around all day is no picnic either.

Men are made in a Lather’s World. “Stiffs” are sent home with the knowledge that they are physically and mentally inferior.

Two of these black men that I worked with back in the late 1980s come to mind.

Chicken George and Buckwheat.

These were typical of the nicknames given to minorities by the white members.

There was a definite caste system that was not hard to distinguish.

Blacks and Spanish members were treated as pariahs.

The racism was displayed at times overtly, but mostly covert.

The message was clear. Layoffs of minorites first was expected and common.

Resentment over their membership ubiquitous.

Chicken George, who was in his eighties, was a congenial fellow who would smoke weed all day and NEVER STOP TYING.

He would laugh at the off color racist jokes sent his way. He was also an exceedingly kind man who took me under his wing.

Buckwheat, on the other hand, was a firebrand who did not take anyone’s guff lightly.

His nickname belied his aggressive pushback against any overt racism that was directed his way.

They were both hard workers.

Both of these men taught me something about hard work and perseverance.

They were a credit to their families and our union.

I can only imagine what they had to put up with.

These men had a pioneering spirit that enabled them to push on despite the enormous adversity.

How much time did Local 46 lose fighting this ugly internal battle while slowly losing the war against Big Business?

There is no way to quantify it, other than to note that, unions have lost much ground since those days.

Black workers have proven themselves, time and time again, to be outstanding managers; workers, leaders, and now, delegates, of Local 46.

It was inevitable once they were given the chance to lead.

I wanted to commemorate our delegate Michael Anderson’s feting by the NAACP for being named Local 46’s first black delegate.

It is even odds that this would have been seen as more impossible back in the 1980s than President Obama being elected President!

I wanted to do it in a way that did not show short-shrift to our racist past.

History is a blueprint to show how things were erected, formed and maintained.

“Those who do not remember history are condemned to repeat it.”

Open and honest conversation should always be welcomed in a democratic society.

So it is, that we must pay our respects to the minorities who were the – Jackie Robinson’s – of Local 46, and other unions.

These brave men, who put up with hell to maintain their rightful role as union members: will not be given a place in the Hall of Fame; nor feted at fancy cocktail parties; nor given a special day with which to commemorate them.

Yet as long as their is a yearning for truth and justice in a man’s heart; they will not be forgotten.

These men who stood up against a rising tide of prejudice; and steered the boat capably, through stormy seas, displayed the best attributes of the trail-breaking men of the Old West.

Pioneers with an indomitable will, to forge on no matter the circumstances, and pave a better road for their families and future generations.

Their fierce determination has created a better union for us all.

THY QUEEN

Thy Queen beeth noble indeed

Far better it

To unsheath thy sword

In defense of such grace

Than to cause your nobility

To fall in disrepute

To one

Whose ardor is effortlessly bartered

And through the consummation

Revealed steadfast

Promises

Alas unmoored

Inured

Machiavellian in accord

Dissipated

Driven as dead leaves on a branch

Scattered as it were

To and fro amongst the sober-minded wind

 

KING OF THE FOREST

If I were the King of the Forest

I’d have a laptop installed in every tree

A GPS for lionesses

Robots for cleaning messes

There’d be no need for marking territory

With pee

If I were the King of the Forest

I’d stop this stuff

Of parading around in the buff

There’d be a law against snoring

Silk blanketed flooring

And no loud roaring

Trying to prove that your tough

If I was the King of the Forest

I’d have a delivery boy

Deliver my meat

Hunting and gathering might be bold

But what about when I get old?

Besides I’ll eat the delivery boy for my treat

If I were the King of the Forest

I’d have a stylist to do my mane

I’d use the best shampoo

Some conditioner too

Hey if you’re the King

You’re supposed to be vain

If I were the King of the Forest

I’d invite the Whole World

For a unique meet and greet

From the bankers to the florists

You can all be the tourists

And have a chance

To sit in the King’s seat

If I were the King of the Forest

It would be a great and wonderful town

I’d build a fast modern train

With a sign that says

“Come Again” – burp!

Heck I’d even let you try on the King’s crown!

A GOOD DAY

To fathom the disagreeable

I’ve discerned

Is to not let your hostilities

Blow up

Much too rash

For life has it’s many incongruities

That hide in plain sight

Like a cat

Poised to strike

In the high grass

When tempests are testing

Your infallibility

To go on

Without unleashing a personal blast

Use your wit

I submit

It’s in your ability

To have your esteem

Still pristine

Without all the sass

Everyone of us

Has our own perfect halo

That is soiled

By acts

We cannot take away

We move on with a smile

And go the extra mile

And with that

I’d like to wish everyone

A Good Day!

ASCEND

Memories of days splashed with rue

Misgivings accumulate

Penalties accrue

For when thine judgements of foolhardiness come due

Tis then that you realize

That your days here are but few

After touching the bottom rock

With the sole of your shoe

Only then

Can you ascend

And set your compass

To true

 

TAKE BACK THE CITIES TOWNS AND CORNFIELDS OF AMERICA

They look down from their penthouse

And turn up their nose

They see us all

As a murder of crows

Bunch of pests

Foul nuisances

Trying to eat of their crops!

Not sons

Daughters

Mommas

And Pops

They don’t want to hear

Our lower class rambling!

Why shan’t we continue

our financial gambling?

Relax!

Stay tuned!

To our blessed celebrity channeling

Pray!

Think positive!

Keep rock-steady

With the Never Give Up!

Clamoring to rambling

Their scarecrow is the media

Which deems us all

Economically struggling

As decadent!

We shall not yield

The cornfield

For we are

The 99 percent!

CHRISTMAS BELLS

A heart can freeze much colder than ice

Trolls stand at guard to extract a heavy price

Witches and Goblins rejoice in their soul stealin’

Under such torment one finds nothing appealing

There is only one thing that is known to Mankind

That can get you out of this most terrible grind

It melts the heart and banishes the spells

What is this one thing

A loverly ting-a-ling!

Tis’ Christmas Bells

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