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"Sorry I ran over your grandma, but I didn't want to spill my latte." Plenty of motorists in San Francisco have this kind of attitude, and it must me stopped! Equally deadly is the pedestrian ego that says, "I always have the right of way." These two airs are a match made in hell. Our city has the fourth highest number of pedestrian fatalities in the US. Knells rang for 31 of these deaths in San Francisco last year! I do recognize the fact that the motorist is not always the party at fault in all of these accidents, but it is indisputable that many of our roaring intersections are way too dangerous for life forms on foot. Even though I usually scamper across the street only on a full walk signal, I still feel like I'm putting my life on the line to get to my favorite latte joint. Furthermore, I nearly got flattened by a car on Folsom and Eighth just a few nights ago. That would have been tragic, since I still haven't seen the Great Pyramids, I still haven't had anal sex, and I still haven't launched my six-figure discrimination suit against my vile ex-employer!
The city is trying some new civil engineering to turn these statistics around. The traffic commission has installed countdown timers on many pedestrian signals, finally giving us an "intersection life expectancy" that's measured in seconds. Now here's a message to SF pedestrians: All we need to do is use this system and heed the heads-up from these indicators! Some of these timers have been around for well over a year, and we still have that dizzying fatality rate. When the countdown has dropped below 10, DO NOT CROSS! Get a clue and wait for the next countdown. I've lost count of how many times I've seen school children dart out into a big intersection then get stuck in the meridian while trucks, SUVs, and buses whiz by.
Residents and community groups are organizing awareness efforts to curb these accidents by targeting the habits of both pedestrians and drivers, which will be the key to getting our city off of that horrible top ten list! In fact, the ped-death tolls of many other US cities trail ours very closely, so over time, we could easily become one of the safer American destinations for residents and tourists who take to the streets.
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | See the 3 comments | comment here)
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The HRC has been receiving a flood of discrimination complaints lately, which I find to be very odd for San Francisco. It appears to me that struggling superstressed business owners are channeling their frustration upon their workers, as was the case with my ex-boss, Mark N. Despite this caseload, the HRC finally launched a full investigation against my ex-boss, a month-long process that will call upon employees, contractors, and relatives of the ex-boss. Fortunately, if these "iBigots" do not cooperate, HRC does have subpoena power, something that most people don't realize! But unfortunately, what the HRC does not have is a conciliation or litigation process to continue the charges. So the best end result for me is that HRC simply determines that discrimination took place in the company. The burden of litigation or other remedies is still upon me, but I gladly accept my part in this very long struggle for justice.
And another dynamic is now at play. Every time I have made attempts at corporate justice, the spiteful individuals at "iBigots.org" have retaliated, dragging in municipal and federal government agencies to attempt to stall my efforts. But this time, I have three organizations, two attorneys, and another government official standing watch, just waiting for the disturbed ex-boss to retaliate as a result of this investigation. If they do, I will immediately seek legal action (and hopefully criminal prosecution) to finally rid San Francisco of Mark N.'s brainless rampage once and for all.
I am still waiting for word on a large monetary settlement, although it doesn't look like "iBigots" is willing to settle. Once I have confirmed this, I will finally disclose all of the papers that I filed with the SF HRC, the California DFEH, and the US Department of Labor.
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | See the 2 comments | comment here)
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Just a re-post of my favorite passage of all time by British writer P. Shelley:
To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to Hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.
-from Prometheus Unbound, Act III,
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | See the 6 comments | comment here)
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Speaking of those totally tubular devices that firemen use, here's a good textbook story about emergency response in San Francisco. I found myself fleeing a building with about 250 other dazed San Franciscans yesterday. Someone activated the fire alarm in the building where I've set up shop, causing pandemonium and sending its residents (including me) pouring out into the streets. As I evacuate, I notice a smoky stench and decide to call 911. Here is the unofficial transcript of my call to our super-efficient response grid:
911: 911, is this an emergency?
Daniel: Yes! (or why the fuck would I be callling 911 from a cell phone, lady !?!)
911: What's the emergency?
Daniel: There's a fire alarm that's sounding in my building, and everyone's evacuating. We're at the corner of **** and Jones.
911: Well, do you smell smoke? Where are you now?
Daniel: Yep, I smell a strange stench through the whole room. I'm about to leave my room.
911: Do you see fire or smell smoke?
Daniel: No fire but we're smelling steam or something burning.
911: What's your address?
Daniel: I really don't know the address, but it's at the corner of ***** and Jones! There are also two blind people in my hallway trying ...
911: Just a second sir.
Daniel: OK.
911: Huh? Oh.
Daniel: What?
911: Well OK, I'll send someone to check it out.
(Call terminated.)
Only three minutes and 30 seconds elapse, and a total of seven (count them, seven!) fire trucks with over forty firemen come barreling down the streets and assault the building from every direction. This must be the "someone" that the dispatcher was talking about. Firemen leap out and start unreeling multiple hoses, some come up to the building and ask if we've seen smoke or fire, and others uncap the fire valves on the sides to prepare for the worst. After about 20 of them stuff into the building and climb the staircases, a chief looks at the rusty old alarm monitor and yells to the rest that it was just a burglar alarm.
More like a fire alarm that doubles as a burglar alarm. We ALL thought it was a fire alarm, and that's why 250 of us were standing on the sidewalk! Well, that was one hell of an expensive false alarm, as the owner is sure to be paying some VERY hefty fines. So it turned out that the seven fire trucks and their 40+ workers were mobilized as the result of my call, since the prehistoric alarm system couldn't ring the SFFD. How flattering to think that my little cell phone call launched a massive suppression force that cost the city over $6,000. I do hope that they recover it all in penalties and fines. And what about the rank smell that I detected? It turns out that it was the building's old boiler heating element kicking on for the evening, which pumps a brief cindery stench throughout the eight story building. Oops!
I then look down at my Sprint PCS phone to find it in some kind of steroid emergency mode with a "Priority Bandwidth" message. My, the hidden talents of our little cell phones! I can't turn off the steroid 911 feature, so I rip out the battery and replace it. That was enough excitement for one evening, so I spent the rest of it at the Borders store studying all the latest programming guides (and a few hot men in the upstairs cafe). The first book that caught my eye was a picture book of SF's Great 1906 Earthquake and Fire.
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | No comments yet | comment here)
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The Federal Marriage Amendment fizzled out right before the bewilidered eyes of Republicans standing on the Senate floor Wednesday afternoon, making them fire-engine red in the face. I am SO happy that this ticket was "hosed" down, not only because gay and lesbian rights remain intact, but also because this has caused some cracking within the Republican party, dividing it and significantly hurting Bush's chances of reelection. This is what happens when an oppressive administration tries to force-feed (with firehose strength) a statute that would traditionally be dealt with on a state level. Well, it looks like those same Repubs will just have to take that firehose and stuff it somewhere else! And chances are, the rest of us will have to rise up and defeat this next oppressive act. Oh, don't worry, we're getting pretty good at this, aren't we! And we'll have to just wait and see just how good we've gotten at countering oppressive nonsense in November, when we try to vote the Dubya Administration out of office.
(Note to Republicans and other oppressive bodies: I didn't say we WILL vote him out office, I just said we'll try. So before you send out your siren squad to stop me from taking over America, just take a breather. Thank you.)
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | See the 3 comments | comment here)
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My 4th of July was one of the best yet. I spent it with friends in Concord, enjoying a barbecue and a short sunset hike in a nearby hilltop park to watch the countryside fireworks in the area. This is quite a switch from my tradition of watching San Francisco's firework show at point-blank range in the Marina. Last year I remember a few IQ-challenged hooligans perched up on the cliffs who couldn't keep their projectiles to themselves. Three times they launched D.O.T. approved rockets into the spectators, enraging a few and prompting the police to sweep that area above us. Our vantage point in Concord this year was quite risk-free, though we were on the lookout for redneck mobs seeking small crowds of queer guys roaming around the hilltops. But luckily, the only monsters we encountered were rattlesnakes and beetles. Later, we hung out and let a friend deal out tarot readings, telling us of our future love affairs and our luck in the job markets. My reading began open-ended, and it closed open-ended. How about that... that's just the way I like it!
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | No comments yet | comment here)
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Over the past year I've done a bit of "rezoning," and I missed the connection among these little changes until now. The biggest switch for me was starting a new contract, a Financial District gig where I become a software salesperson from 9 - 5 ! IT staffers and other computer geeks would probably curl up and die over a position like this, but I quickly discovered that I do just fine with cold calling and contact-digging. So well, in fact, that I can now take these skills and build a bountiful clientele for my own business. Imagine the epiphany when a businessperson discovers that cold calling—the dreaded grind feared by nearly everyone—suddenly becomes a cakewalk! Well, you don't have to imagine it. As a first-hand cold calling convertee, I can pretty much guarantee that if you are personally in need of new business, you will love cold calling after that initial leap of faith.
It turns out that returning to the 9 - 5 grind is not bad at all, especially if it's in downtown San Francisco. Even during the business day, there is still that romantic, breezy, unfussy mood that makes it easy to pass the time. Through my prospecting I have also discovered that there are plenty of downtown jobs now, and although most are not full-salary, long-term commitments, it’s a trusty fallback if you're about to be laid off or if you want to rid yourself of a pigheaded boss. If you're festering in unacceptable working conditions, you can almost guess my advice. QUIT! Find a job where people respect your rights, your safety, and your person. You'll feel much more comfortable, and you'll give your old employer something to think about!
On another front, I have settled into a new comfort zone as a volunteer for the San Francisco Pride Parade. I have been working in the hospitality unit for four years along with my friend Vincent, who introduced me to the one-day-per-year role. We feed and hydrate the parade staff, policemen, and firemen along the parade route, and we also set up a lunch pavilion for all volunteers after the parade ends. There are a few hidden perks as well! Besides free food, drink, and endless ice cream, we also get exclusive access to many of the restricted areas of the massive street fair following the parade. Having backdoor access to these areas can be a lifesaver while braving the blistering sun and hordes of people. Our volunteer efforts went seamlessly this year, and the parade and street fair was also a sight as always! The turnout was lower than in recent years, but that made it more enjoyable (and less rowdydowdy!).
One last bit of "rezoning" to mention is my housing arrangements of late. Since leaving my Ashbury St. apartment, I've moved twice, and in doing so I've really become attached to the quaint neighborhoods in San Francisco. I realized that I prefer shorter stays at different digs rather than being a house hermit in the same pad year after year. Life in Bernal Heights, my domain in early 2004, was an intimate experience, and I'm sorry to leave the neighborhood behind. But spending time in the Valencia corridor was a welcome sensation, as the cheap food and bustling nightlife kept my spirits high over the past month. I'll be eagle-eyeing Valencia Street for a bit, then I'll be off to the next 'hood.
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(By Daniel Culveyhouse | No comments yet | comment here)
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