Language alert: some people or employers may take issue with a couple of words in this post. Also, an apology: I know I promised a reprieve from my recent rants, but this is too important not to talk about, even in this micro format.
In the year 2009, Minneapolis had 19 homicides, down from 40 in 2008. We all felt good – violent crime was on the retreat. These numbers were in contrast to the mid-nineties, when my city was burdened with the moniker “Murderapolis” with 97 at its annual peak in 1995. Last year’s 19 is the lowest we’ve had in over 25 years.
It is now March 7. In 2010 so far, we’ve had 10 homicides. In the first two months of the year (the quietest crime months, historically), we’re already halfway through last year’s total. I was at the store buying some beer yesterday after driving through a mob of people on Penn and 26th. There were bullhorns, cruisers, and hand-made signs. I didn’t read the paper on Friday, so I asked at the store about the gathering. The cashier said it was a march for peace, and the guy behind me in line chimed in: “This is messed up, man! I’m not from here, but where I’m from, if someone’s on the street and they fuck up, brother gets gat, but no one else. Up here, this gang banging all over, people ain’t even involved, minding their business getting gunned down!” Last year I would have said he was wrong, and that innocents are largely safe. This year I’m no longer so sure. The crowd was a peace march to the church where the funeral was being held for the latest shooting victim, a 17 year old girl shot in the neck while standing in a group of friends outside a party. I thought, well that’s good. It’s good that people are standing up to this and being counted against this violence. Then this morning I opened up the local section of the paper to read that a gang fight broke out inside the church at the conclusion of the 17 year old girl’s funeral. Do me a favor and read the underlined, linked portion of that sentence aloud. See if you aren’t just a little ashamed to be talking about a major American city. Seriously, at a fucking funeral?!
What the hell is wrong with these assholes? I’m sorry, but I’ve lived on the north side long enough to say this is my neighborhood too - as well as the woman two houses down who works for the city, the men who own and run the Quick Mart two blocks over, the teachers at the school at the end of my block, not to mention the children going to said school - and I’d like to respectfully ask these gang bangers to get the hell out of our city. We citizens of this place are trying to build a positive community up here, opening restaurants and businesses, creating community gardens, making public art, and you are cutting down our efforts. So get out. If you want to be a tough guy, cowboy, or vigilante with your guns and dope, you go do it somewhere else. We’re trying to freakin' live here. The quotation in the paper from Al Flowers, the former mayoral candidate, community activist, and sometimes political troublemaker, says it best. Outside the church yesterday, he called into a bullhorn as the police tried to diffuse the situation, “This is a baby’s funeral! Seventeen years old and she can’t rest in peace?”
Can I just say that in five plus years of owning a home on the north side of MPLS, this spring is the first time I’ve ever avoided certain areas of the neighborhood, even in my car, for safety reasons. That is not the neighborhood I bought into, and desperately wanted to turn into a beautiful urban area. That is not a place I would want to open a business or raise a family in. That is not a place that will attract new residents – residents who care about the place and want to live in a truly neighborly hood.
I’ve always been the quiet neighbor. The guy who lives here and gardens and walks places in the neighborhood, but pretty much keeps to himself. As of now I am making a resolution (if a late one). This year I am going to be more involved in the life of the greater community. I will get to know more of my neighbors, and show them that I truly care about our block, our community, and their own well-being. I will attend block parties, Take Back the Night picnics, and public festivals. I will be a visible part of this neighborhood, because I am a part of it, and I don’t like some of the violent elements that have been rearing their ugly, gun-toting heads lately. So to the north side council members, Don Samuels, Diane Hofstede, & my own Barb Johnson, police chief Tim Dolan, and Mayor R.T. Rybak, I say this: I’m going to do my part. Now it is up to you all to give us a fighting chance. Step up beat patrols, yes, but also get more familiar with this troubled community. Ask us how the municipal powers that be can facilitate growth and the culture of this part of the city. We are unique, and have unique problems here. We will need unique solutions that only we on the ground can come up with, but only you can make happen. Let’s talk.
Showing posts with label 5-0. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 5-0. Show all posts
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Brother, can you spare nineteen million dimes?
I know I'm late writing about this three-week-old story, but here it is:
Jammie Thomas-Rasset has lost her case against the record industry. She's been ordered to pay them (record companies, not artists) $1.92M for the 24 songs she downloaded. $80K per song. I understand. She broke the law (or a jury found that she did, anyway). Here's my question: If those same songs are for sale for $1 a piece at the iTunes store, how is eighty grand even remotely commensurate with the offense she committed? She sought no profit from her actions, as noted in the original ruling from Judge Michael Davis, declaring her first trial a mistrial and noting that the original award of $222,000 was more than five hundred times the cost of buying each of the songs on individual CDs. Read the ruling here (specifically, section K: Need for Congressional Action, from the bottom of page 40 through page 42).
I guess my real beef with this case is that it is the record companies that are suing. I personally don't think anything is wrong with enjoying music for free if one is not seeking any personal gain beyond the good feeling one gets while listening to it. The New York Times Magazine this week has a really great brief interview with Jeff Tweedy of Wilco that touches on this subject. Deborah Solomon asked Tweedy about the decision to voluntarily stream Wilco's new album online for free after the tracks had surfaced illegally on the internet in May. Tweedy responded with what I think is a great mantra against anti-piracy laws:
"As a musician, I don’t want to expend any energy whatsoever preventing people from hearing our music. I think that’s antithetical to the idea of making it. Yes, we streamed it. Basically we set it up so people who felt guilty about stealing our music could donate some money to our favorite charity." (It's a great Q&A... take a look at it here.)
I agree. No artist should ever expend energy preventing people from experiencing his or her art. I would even take it one step further and say that the record companies, in suing for their own financial interests in the music, have betrayed their commitment to the artists. If someone hears for free a good song by a group or artist they are unfamiliar with, they are that much more likely to go out and seek more from that artist - becoming a fan and a regular purchaser of albums and concert tickets. Punishing Jammie Thomas-Rassett for downloading these songs with a judgment that will likely financially cripple her for the rest of her life serves no good for the artists promoted by the industry.
One final note: I was curious, so I wikipedia'd the Capitol v. Thomas case, and found out what the actual 24 songs were... I think of all the indignities this poor woman has endured, by far the worst might be that she is now liable for almost two million dollars for this particular playlist:
I don't want to judge, but that's what one does in a trial situation. With a couple of exceptions for the classics on the list (see lines 8 and 10), I'd say this list is worth all of 38 cents and an MTC bus transfer.
Jammie Thomas-Rasset has lost her case against the record industry. She's been ordered to pay them (record companies, not artists) $1.92M for the 24 songs she downloaded. $80K per song. I understand. She broke the law (or a jury found that she did, anyway). Here's my question: If those same songs are for sale for $1 a piece at the iTunes store, how is eighty grand even remotely commensurate with the offense she committed? She sought no profit from her actions, as noted in the original ruling from Judge Michael Davis, declaring her first trial a mistrial and noting that the original award of $222,000 was more than five hundred times the cost of buying each of the songs on individual CDs. Read the ruling here (specifically, section K: Need for Congressional Action, from the bottom of page 40 through page 42).
I guess my real beef with this case is that it is the record companies that are suing. I personally don't think anything is wrong with enjoying music for free if one is not seeking any personal gain beyond the good feeling one gets while listening to it. The New York Times Magazine this week has a really great brief interview with Jeff Tweedy of Wilco that touches on this subject. Deborah Solomon asked Tweedy about the decision to voluntarily stream Wilco's new album online for free after the tracks had surfaced illegally on the internet in May. Tweedy responded with what I think is a great mantra against anti-piracy laws:
"As a musician, I don’t want to expend any energy whatsoever preventing people from hearing our music. I think that’s antithetical to the idea of making it. Yes, we streamed it. Basically we set it up so people who felt guilty about stealing our music could donate some money to our favorite charity." (It's a great Q&A... take a look at it here.)
I agree. No artist should ever expend energy preventing people from experiencing his or her art. I would even take it one step further and say that the record companies, in suing for their own financial interests in the music, have betrayed their commitment to the artists. If someone hears for free a good song by a group or artist they are unfamiliar with, they are that much more likely to go out and seek more from that artist - becoming a fan and a regular purchaser of albums and concert tickets. Punishing Jammie Thomas-Rassett for downloading these songs with a judgment that will likely financially cripple her for the rest of her life serves no good for the artists promoted by the industry.
One final note: I was curious, so I wikipedia'd the Capitol v. Thomas case, and found out what the actual 24 songs were... I think of all the indignities this poor woman has endured, by far the worst might be that she is now liable for almost two million dollars for this particular playlist:
I don't want to judge, but that's what one does in a trial situation. With a couple of exceptions for the classics on the list (see lines 8 and 10), I'd say this list is worth all of 38 cents and an MTC bus transfer.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
They run everyone's plates on the north side.
So, I found out last night that nothing we do is really private. Allow me to explain:
I was on my way to the curling club to play our first playdown game of the spring, and I got no more than ten blocks from my house and I saw cherries in my mirror. I pulled over, and got out my ID. As I was digging in my wallet for my insurance card, the cop said, "Don't bother, you're suspended. Step out of the car, please."
This was news to me. I stepped out of my car, and they led me back to the squad car. With my hands on the trunk of the cruiser, she gave me the full pat-down.
An aside: when I'm on long car drives, I often find myself in truck stop bathrooms. If I happen to have three quarters on me, I find it funny to get the weird sex-toy items from the vending machine. I do this not with any intention of ever using the items, but because I find it funny and interesting to see what I get for my 3/4 dollar and to see the hilarious packaging that these items come in.
Back at the scene of the infraction, she was patting me down, and she took everything out of my pockets and set it on the trunk of the squad. My camera, my gloves, my Moleskine notepad, my wallet. She reached into the breast pocket of my coat and pulled out the "Horny Goat Weed" aphrodisiac supplement, took one look at it, and put it back into my pocket.
They then sat me in the back of the car (It was tiny back there - I can't imagine being over six feet with my hands behind my back and trying to fit in there), and I sat thinking this would be the time I ended up in lockup. I'd get bailed out, and whomever came to save me would stand there silently judging as the clerk on the other side of the glass assessed what had been in my pockets: "One Nikon Coolpix camera, one leather billfold, one 'Horny Goat Weed' herbal aphrodisiac." I was mortified just thinking about it.
They went through the contents of my backseat:
Cop #1: You know, you've got quite a bit of garbage in back, there.
Me: Yeah, I've been hibernating over the winter - I was going to clean it next week.
Cop #2: Do you have a girlfriend or a wife or something?
Me: Yes, I have a girlfriend, and she contributes to that mess.
Cop #2: Well then disregard my next statement.
Cop #1: What about those muffins? How long have they been in there?
Me: Those are carrot cake cupcakes. I just put them in there today to bring to the club with me!
All I wanted was to get to the club and wreak some havoc on sheet six, but someone had to criticize the way I live my commuter life.
In retrospect I have no reason to be upset, since they went ridiculously easy on me, considering I did in fact have an unpaid ticket from six months ago ("We should tow your car, but since you live so close you can drive home and park legally, but if a Mpls cop sees you driving again you'll get your car towed."), but at the same time, I feel a little violated. I mean, they made fun of my automotive hygiene. That hurts. I always thought my car was a sanctuary. If I invited a friend in, that was a privilege, and anyone curious about how I lived my life was SOL. Pull me over, yes. Drag me out of the car if you have reason to believe I'm up to no good. That's fine. But for god's sake, don't make fun of the fast food wrappers in my back seat. That's like finding Lipitor in someone's medicine cabinet, and making a cholesterol joke.
On a happier note, I got a hold of a friend to pick me up and take me to the curling club. The other team tied it up in the seventh end, and it looked like they were going to mop the ice with us. Shaun, our skip, came through on the last rock, threading it into the house to sit point and we barely won the game. Looks like I got ridiculously lucky twice last night.
I was on my way to the curling club to play our first playdown game of the spring, and I got no more than ten blocks from my house and I saw cherries in my mirror. I pulled over, and got out my ID. As I was digging in my wallet for my insurance card, the cop said, "Don't bother, you're suspended. Step out of the car, please."
This was news to me. I stepped out of my car, and they led me back to the squad car. With my hands on the trunk of the cruiser, she gave me the full pat-down.
An aside: when I'm on long car drives, I often find myself in truck stop bathrooms. If I happen to have three quarters on me, I find it funny to get the weird sex-toy items from the vending machine. I do this not with any intention of ever using the items, but because I find it funny and interesting to see what I get for my 3/4 dollar and to see the hilarious packaging that these items come in.
Back at the scene of the infraction, she was patting me down, and she took everything out of my pockets and set it on the trunk of the squad. My camera, my gloves, my Moleskine notepad, my wallet. She reached into the breast pocket of my coat and pulled out the "Horny Goat Weed" aphrodisiac supplement, took one look at it, and put it back into my pocket.
They then sat me in the back of the car (It was tiny back there - I can't imagine being over six feet with my hands behind my back and trying to fit in there), and I sat thinking this would be the time I ended up in lockup. I'd get bailed out, and whomever came to save me would stand there silently judging as the clerk on the other side of the glass assessed what had been in my pockets: "One Nikon Coolpix camera, one leather billfold, one 'Horny Goat Weed' herbal aphrodisiac." I was mortified just thinking about it.
They went through the contents of my backseat:
Cop #1: You know, you've got quite a bit of garbage in back, there.
Me: Yeah, I've been hibernating over the winter - I was going to clean it next week.
Cop #2: Do you have a girlfriend or a wife or something?
Me: Yes, I have a girlfriend, and she contributes to that mess.
Cop #2: Well then disregard my next statement.
Cop #1: What about those muffins? How long have they been in there?
Me: Those are carrot cake cupcakes. I just put them in there today to bring to the club with me!
All I wanted was to get to the club and wreak some havoc on sheet six, but someone had to criticize the way I live my commuter life.
In retrospect I have no reason to be upset, since they went ridiculously easy on me, considering I did in fact have an unpaid ticket from six months ago ("We should tow your car, but since you live so close you can drive home and park legally, but if a Mpls cop sees you driving again you'll get your car towed."), but at the same time, I feel a little violated. I mean, they made fun of my automotive hygiene. That hurts. I always thought my car was a sanctuary. If I invited a friend in, that was a privilege, and anyone curious about how I lived my life was SOL. Pull me over, yes. Drag me out of the car if you have reason to believe I'm up to no good. That's fine. But for god's sake, don't make fun of the fast food wrappers in my back seat. That's like finding Lipitor in someone's medicine cabinet, and making a cholesterol joke.
On a happier note, I got a hold of a friend to pick me up and take me to the curling club. The other team tied it up in the seventh end, and it looked like they were going to mop the ice with us. Shaun, our skip, came through on the last rock, threading it into the house to sit point and we barely won the game. Looks like I got ridiculously lucky twice last night.
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