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Letter From The Mass Pike Extension

The Honorable Rick Scott

Governor of Florida

State House

Tallahassee, Florida

 

Dear Governor Scott:

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My deepest apologies for taking so long in getting back to you. I read with interest your letter suggesting I would find the “climate” in Florida more suitable for growing my business than the climate here in Massachusetts. I certainly agree your tax rate and weather conditions (barring hurricanes) would be a welcome relief after the cold winters of The Bay State and the deaf ears of its political community. But I must correct you on one important point: it’s not the taxes that are souring the business climate in Massachusetts, it’s the gridlock.

Yes, the gridlock! The reason it’s taken me so long to answer your letter is that I just haven’t had the time. I spend so much time in my car these days, stuck on the state’s roads and highways that I haven’t a moment to spare when I finally arrive mid-morning at the office, or when I return home to my family late at night after another hellish rush hour commute.

I don’t know about Florida, Rick, but here our politicians refuse to fully fund public transportation. They can’t seem to accept that the only way anything will improve on the highways is by reducing the number of cars. In large numbers. And the only way that will happen is if they vote the money to make public transportation a better alternative than sitting for hours in traffic.

Rick, your letter would have been much more accurate and effective if it had compared state statistics for nervous breakdowns and road rage incidents instead of tax rates and 70 degree days. The only reason I’m able, at last, to respond to your letter is because I finally smartened up two days ago and transformed my car into a portable Auto-Office. Now, I can blithely read my emails, answer letters, and catch up on a thousand previously neglected facets of my business while I’m stuck in traffic. Doesn’t matter if I’m stuck on Route 93,the Mass Pike or Route 95; doesn’t matter if I’m stuck north, south, or west of the city! Do I have concerns about safety, you might ask? Not a one. The traffic rarely moves fast enough to create a hazardous situation.

Thanks to my new Auto-Office I can now find time to consider your attractive proposal. I’ve also found time to begin scratching out a new career—as a lyricist, of all things! Look below this letter for a song I wrote yesterday while driving two tedious miles from Central Square in Cambridge to Commonwealth Avenue in Boston. Not bad for lyrics written in just two short hours, don’t you think?

Anyway, Rick, I promise to talk over your attractive invitation with my management team, once I get enough of them assembled to have a quorum. Between broken buses, overloaded trains and gridlocked highways, it’s a miracle when even half my staff makes it to the office.

Yours perpetually in first gear,

 

Paul

 

Paul Steven Stone

CEO and President

Blind Elephant Press

c/o Mass Turnpike Extension, Newton

 

 

AND NO ONE GIVES A DAMN

(Sung to the tune of “The Sidewalks of New York”)

by Paul Steven Stone

 

East side, West side, you can’t get through the town

The roads are jammed with traffic, and no one has a plan

Boys and girls together, me I’m stuck in a jam.

I left my home three hours ago and no one gives a damn.

 

East side, West side, you can’t get through the town

The subway’s packed with bodies, the buses half broke down

Boys and girls together, me I’m jammed in the T

I left my home three hours ago and, God, I need to pee.

 

East side, West side, you can’t get through the town

Tell my wife and kids I love them, I’ll see them when I can

Boys and girls on Beacon Hill can’t come up with a plan

I’ve had three nervous breakdowns and nobody gives a damn.

Shut Up and Eat Your Vegetables!

“Hey Ma, I can’t eat this ear of corn. It’s as big as my Tom Brady autographed football. Is this one of those genetically modified vegetables we’ve been hearing about in school?”corn

“Just shut up and eat. There are children starving in China. Or there used to be when I was a kid. Now they’re probably starving in Haiti, or Greece, probably Spain, too. Anyway, they wouldn’t complain about their food being too big.”

“And what about these peas? They look like green tennis balls. That can’t be safe to eat.”

“Just shut up and eat. The government says it’s safe to eat everything on your plate.”

“Which government is that? Teacher says they don’t allow any genetically modified foods in Europe, or a whole lot of other countries.”

“Which is why it’s important that American children like you not only eat their genetically modified vegetables, but eat enough to make up for all those foreign kids who don’t. Otherwise American companies like Monsanto won’t be able to stay in business.”

“I don’t care if they stay in business, Ma. I just don’t want to eat something that will make me sick.”

“I told you our government said this stuff is safe. They wouldn’t let them sell it if it wasn’t, would they?”

“You bet they would, Ma. They let Monsanto get away with all sorts of things. Out in California the food industry spent $46 million to kill a bill that would have required mandatory labeling of GMO’s in food products. Now they’re spending millions more to kill the same kind of bill in Washington State. If it’s so safe, why won’t they let people know when it’s in their food?

“Are you going to eat your vegetables?”

“And now that same government you claim is protecting us just passed a bill to protect Monsanto against lawsuits or product recalls in case any of their GMO crops prove to be harmful.”

“Paul Steven, I’m warning you…!”

“Think about it, Ma. What kind of consumer would buy a car the government says couldn’t be recalled? Or whose manufacturer couldn’t be sued for unexplained engine fires, sudden unintended acceleration, or faulty brakes?”

“You’re too young to understand.”

“I understand the government is treating us like children, Ma. I understand Monsanto is so powerful they were able to beat back an effort in the U.S Senate to force mandatory labeling of GMO’s.”

“Paul Steven, I’m about to lose my patience with you. Are you, or are you not, going to eat your vegetables?”

“Not until I know what’s in them!”

“How about drinking your milk?”

“Does it contain any bovine growth hormone?”

“Well, how the hell should I know?”

“If we lived in Europe you could read about it on the milk carton.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Declaration of Interdependence 2013

WE THE PEOPLE of the free and independent United States hereby declare our flaginterconnectedness and responsibility for one another. Originally formed as a political unit to throw off the cruelties of a despotic ruler, we re-commit ourselves to those principles which set us apart from nations whose inhumanity and enrichment of their ruling classes have inflicted undue and grievous harm upon their general populations.

In light of recent activities and political maneuverings by the powerful and wealthy classes of our society, we feel the need to once again state those values we believe are embodied or implied in both our nation’s Constitution and Declaration of Independence, namely that…

• All citizens are entitled to unhindered access to those essentials necessary in a civilized society to foster Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, including (but not limited to) a healthy diet, safe and affordable housing, an advanced education, an unbiased political system, freedom from fear or repression, and a government committed as an overriding philosophy to the avoidance of war and the pursuit of peace.

• To secure such essentials, it is necessary to immediately develop and institute such rules of behavior and jurisprudence that acknowledge and reestablish the equality of all individuals in our society; those actions to include…

-Removing the power and influence of money from all democratic institutions and political activities; understanding that, far from engendering free speech, the unfettered flow of money allows moneyed interests to drown out the voices of those with lesser wealth or influence;

– Restoring a fair and equitable tax system which recognizes that all individuals benefit equally from systems, protections and services provided by our national and local governments, and that more should be expected from those who have a preponderance of our nation’s wealth, while less should be taken from those who have little enough for themselves;

– Restoring equal justice and punishment to those at all levels of our society, so that those who caused economic chaos and destruction in pursuit of their own selfish outcomes, as well as those who unleashed the dogs of war for no good cause, and those who authorized or committed acts of torture, are given a fair and impartial trial before the eyes of the world, as a lesson to others and a clear indicator of our commitment to the rule of law, even for the most powerful among us;

– Gradually reducing the country’s dependence on— and thrall to—the military industrial complex. Recognizing that, as we’ve recently seen, weak-minded or short-sighted leaders can make military decisions that result in unnecessary death, destruction and the wasteful expenditure of national wealth. Also recognizing that the maintenance of a large global military footprint not only increases the likelihood of a country being drawn into war, but significantly reduces those assets available for keeping commitments to its citizens at all levels of the socio-economic ladder.

–And recommitting ourselves to acting with honor, humanity and justice towards other nations, especially towards non-combatants caught up in a war zone through no fault of their own.

We offer the above Declaration of Interdependence as a road map for our country to begin returning to its rightful path, to once again become a beacon on a hill to other nations, a paragon of virtue among world powers, driven equally by principle and compassion, and undeterred in our purpose by public debate fueled by blind self-interest and self-righteous bravado.

So offered for consideration as we approach the Fourth of July, 2013.

MY SPY: A Modern American Love Story

spy“I fell in love, it’s as simple as that.

“You get that, I’m in love?

“Though I’m also at my wit’s end. You see I’m in love with a woman I’ve never seen. And though she hasn’t said it in so many words, I know she loves me too.

“How we met is a curious story. Very relevant to this discussion, especially with all the questions you’ve been asking. The story goes back to about three months ago when I started noticing this soft little ‘click!’ at the end of my phone calls, as if a third party was also hanging up.

“I’m not a brave person, but one day I just decided to speak to whomever was listening. I was coming up from a long telephone strategy session with my tax accountant.

““Hey, you! You who’s listening in?” I called in my most friendly voice. “Do you think I’ll get caught? You guys must work with the IRS. Tell me what you think.”

“I listened; heard only an electronic silence.

““C’mon, tell me. Should I, or should I not, declare last year’s Caribbean vacation as a business expense? And my wife’s funeral expenses, too? Roger, my accountant, thinks no. What do you think?”

“After a long pause, a soft voice answered back, “Please don’t talk to me, sir. I’m not supposed to have contact with my subjects.”

““Is that what I am?” I cried in mock hurt and outrage. “Only a subject? Have I not eyes to cry? Have I not blood to bleed? Have I not a heart to break? I only want the benefit of your opinion, dear lady; you, who overhear the deepest thoughts shared with my closest friends.”

““With friends like that, sir, a person doesn’t need enemies,” she said drily.

““What’s that supposed to mean?”

““Take that accountant of yours—Roger? He’s a friend of yours, right?”

““One of the best. He sponsored me for the Masons.”

““If I remember clearly, you used go to your Mason meetings on Thursday nights? Up until your wife died?”

““Yes, so?”

““The same night of the week, I believe, that Roger the accountant repeatedly bumped into your wife, so to speak, on a weekly basis at the Low Life Motel on Rte. 13, sir!”

““She never mentioned that to me,” I murmured in mild dissent.

““I’m sure she meant to,” my eavesdropper drily replied.”

““Do you ever go out on dates?” I suddenly asked.

““Sir, I refer you to Article 14 of the Patriot Act. Not only can I not date you, but I’m almost certain this conversation is being monitored and recorded. Maybe by two people, if they have the budget.”

““Anyone ever point out you have a lovely voice?” I asked with a smile so bright she must have seen it through the phone. Then I carelessly added, “Reminds me of my dead wife.” A line so powerful I knew it would break down her resistance.

“Silence again.

““Are you there?” I asked into the silence.

“Finally she answered, her voice still a bit uncertain, “Your dead wife had a hacker’s cough and a gravelly voice. I know because, as you might have guessed from earlier remarks, I eavesdropped on her for the last two years of her life. Her voice was nothing like mine, sir” my eavesdropper insisted. “Speaking of that, though—your voice does sound a lot like my dead husband’s.”

“I replied, “Hmm, is that so?” and somehow felt magnetically drawn to her.

“Well, that was our first ‘meeting’, if you can call it that. We took to conversing on a regular basis at the end of most of my phone calls. Never violating the letter of Article 14, but perhaps the spirit. We were in love, it’s as simple as that.

“I asked if she was also following me through my emails, but apparently you folks break the work up amongst four or five agents. She said I only got her because…

““What? I told you I’m not allowed to say her name. Thought you’d catch me out and add that to my list of crimes, didn’t you? She said she was exclusively assigned to eavesdrop my phone because she had traded off her other eavesdropping assignments to work exclusively on my tap; that’s how much she loved me.

“Tell you about my terrorism cell? The men’s group? Are you serious?

“Man, that’s not real. She only reported me and the men’s group because she needed one more score to make her quota. Honestly, that’s what she said, then she asked if I’d mind helping her reach quota. It sounded like a simple request. So I told her she could list my Temple Beth Shalom Men’s Group as a hotbed of Muslim extremist cells. She said I had nothing to worry about. That the idea was so wacky the U.S. government would never believe it.

“But you’re here to tell me the U.S. government does believe it, is that right?

“And that’s why I’m tied to this chair?”

SUGAR-COATED GENTRIFICATION

Could This Be The End Of Cambridge As We Know It?

Let’s think of them as “misguided.”

If people’s assertions are to be believed—and I’d love to be able to believe our city counselors, city planners and administrators, and even our Central Square Advisory Committee—then all these august civic entities and players are acting exactly opposite to their stated intentions.urban

I’m talking about their oft-stated intention to help preserve and protect Cambridge’s diversity, our unique blending of diverse elements—the middle class and the poor, families, students and singles, all manner of races, ethnicities and age groups—that creates a rich tapestry of community influences and textures.

So why are these well-intentioned parties guilty of being misguided?

Truth is they’ve been unwitting, yet highly willing, accomplices to Cambridge’s homegrown form of gentrification. I call it “Sugar-Coated Gentrification” because the sugar-coating of a small percentage of inclusionary-zoning units, sprinkled very lightly over each development, has become the going price developers pay to build housing for highly paid executives, engineers and technicians. The same executives, engineers and technicians who will easily outbid middle class families and poor people for the city’s available housing stock.

Who are they kidding, if not themselves? This small set-aside of units, usually 11.5%, will never come close to offsetting the loss of middle-class families and economically-disadvantaged residents. We can reasonably argue about the value of inclusionary zoning, but there’s no arguing away the impact of gentrification. We all know the story; we’ve seen it in dozens of cities and hundreds of neighborhoods.

If we can agree that a flood of market-rate housing exerts upward pressures on the price of housing, and the result is a citywide purging of the least-advantaged and most vulnerable members of our community, then we should be able to see the danger inherent when inclusionary housing serves as a gateway to massive development and up-zoning giveaways.

The City Council is currently considering the fact that 11.5% may not be enough to meaningfully impact the city’s loss of affordable housing. The council got away with demanding 18% from MIT for that non-profit’s massive zoning giveaway. So, naturally, they’re considering raising the percentage to 18%, as if that number were the answer to their vague feelings of concern and insufficiency in this matter.

So, in its clumsy accidental way, the City Council has aimed the light in the right direction. They’ve shown the question isn’t whether gentrification will have a negative impact, the question is how negative will it be. Or, as the City Council seems to be asking, “What percentage of inclusionary units will make up for all Cambridge residents ultimately forced out by gentrification?”

But, sorry folks, that’s obviously wrong-headed and counter-productive!

Nobody voted for the city council so they could represent the interests of future Cambridge residents against that of its current residents.

Nor does anyone want the city council to focus on the wellbeing of developers and real estate firms at the expense of those same vulnerable residents.

Speaking of misguided focus, nobody pays the City Manager or his deputies to foster zoning changes that would alter, perhaps harm, the character and rhythm of vibrant yet vulnerable neighborhoods.

And nobody in our city wants to force out current residents to make room for future residents?

If we want to create more affordable housing—and I mean housing less than the $2,400 a month currently deemed affordable for a single bedroom in University Park—we should build it ourselves. Yes, even with all the discouraging funding news coming out of Washington!

We should take that $14 million bribe paid by MIT, and whatever we’ve socked away in the affordable housing trust, and put it to good use, building real, honest affordable housing. There are any number of ways we could fund such housing, if we chose to do it on a small scale. 20 units here, 20 units there; something like that. There’s no need to bring in 16- or 18-story towers to achieve the same results.

It’s time we stopped sugar-coating what are basically acts of self-destructive gentrification.

It’s time we realized inclusionary housing isn’t a solution but a Trojan horse by which developers will undermine the foundation of our community.

It’s also time the City Council called for a Master Plan for all of us in Cambridge to review and discuss.

A plan that takes into account all the impacts from 18+ million square feet of anticipated development over the next 20 years.

A plan that maps out how we’ll approach traffic in the city, which will become even worse and more gridlocked with the addition of 50,000+ car trips a day on our city’s roadways.

A plan that maps out the city’s future.

Better yet, a plan that gives the city a future.