John Wise

Kudos to Katelyn the comfort engineer, who on a stroke of genius has delivered the ‘Husband Chair’ at a local branch of Michaels, also known as “the dreaded craft store”. This convenience near the entrance of the store allows us, men, to quickly take refuge near the same door that is also the exit. While not as anonymous as staying in the car, I must admit, since gasoline prices are so high, that sitting in the car with an idling engine and the air conditioning running full blast is getting a bit expensive.

Katelyn, seemingly on a direct connection with the male psyche is looking at improving her masterpiece-in-progress by adding a cushioned seat cover, a custom coat of middle-age defying glossy black paint, and possibly even flames – those OC Chopper dudes would be envious. This woman will be a corporate goddess in her own time. My only suggestion, we need some manly magazines to hide behind and let others know that we are real men, even if we are in the craft store.

What do you get when you take a cheap, run-down $450-a-month apartment in a bad neighborhood and call it a condo? Rich! That is what this apartment owner is hoping for. At 595 square feet (55 square meters) this newly refurbished largish 1-bedroom-closet is now on sale for $120,000 – and it comes with covered parking! Since laundry machines are so bulky and noisy these master-planned luxury units offer luxury laundry rooms near the pool. With such wonderful digs in your newly improved neighborhood and the expensive pool and grounds maintenance costs, owners will be paying on average $140 in HOA fees, but that includes water and trash. So your walls are still paper-thin and the neighbor stomping upstairs is guaranteed not to be moving out soon – this place is all yours for the rest of eternity.

Next to security cameras, alarms, guard dogs, barred windows, and a well-lit corner location, what else does the modern business need? RAZOR WIRE!

There is a very nice festival on August 9th in the Hindu calendar called Raksha Bandhan. On this day sisters and close friends offer their brothers a rakhi to be worn on their right wrist to ward off evil. As can be seen from above, rakhis can be found in many different colors sporting a variety of charms, but simple threads wound together and tied around the wrist are also offered. Once put on they are seldomly taken off intentionally. I have seen these rakhis lose color and become threadbare after months of wear. I would venture to guess that some rakhi make it to the following year and the next celebration of Raksha Bandhan.

This is what you will see on so many corners of Phoenix, Arizona. When the bulldozers come in and rip every shred of the desert away, flatten the land and then abandon it, it becomes a barren wasteland of burned grass and trash. And if you are one of the citizens living near one of these patches in America’s sixth-largest and obviously wealthy city, you may not see any improvements here during your lifetime, as developers enjoy building new, financially more lucrative communities with bigger houses and bigger shopping areas rather than working on infill to raise property values. You might think the city government would care? Not a chance, it sees greater tax revenues from new neighborhoods, too. In any case, these older neighborhoods are destined to become ghettos as anybody with enough brains and money moves into the new McMansion communities sprouting up 40 miles further out in what used to be desert. If you don’t believe that we leave our great economically powerful cities to fall into disrepair, go on and visit Detroit, Buffalo, Superior, Milwaukee, Cleveland, Akron, Toledo, Syracuse, and Flint – some of the fastest shrinking cities in America, or are they too practicing this model of xeriscape?

I hate these streetside memorials. My apologies to families who have felt the need to place these random mini-monuments to departed loved ones as it is not my intention to be disrespectful of your loss. But your grief and probably violent loss intrude into my organized-by-choice happy view of the world.

I do not watch television or read local newspapers for a number of reasons. First is the inescapable repetitious display of local violent crimes which induces fear, worry, and a kind of false concern. Besides me and many others being taken to distraction by our knowledge of these violent acts, we are consumed by the fear of how and when this might happen to ourselves or a loved one. Your temporary cenotaph has the same effect as the endless parade of tragedy that is known as the evening news. I know the street can be dangerous, but I do not need your constant reminder day in and day out that someone died violently at this intersection. It is a given that we all die, that every day someone will suffer needlessly, but we do not put semi-permanent reminders in hospitals, we don’t maintain months-long vigils at hospice, and we don’t alter our homes with permanent memorials that remain when ownership changes hands. Your tragedy should not be part of the reality I choose to live with, stop intruding with your grief into my happiness.

I have no problems with cemeteries, they effectively remind us to respect those we have lost and are a memorial for those who have passed, they are the socially accepted places society has chosen to place our departed.