Saturday, December 31, 2005
Ballard Bull**** 2006!
Illuminating the Neighborhood of Ballard, Washington
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Ballard Bull****
Volume 3, Number 1, © January, 2006
"Where Informed Attitude Counts"
e: ballardbullshit@yahoo.com
website: http://ballardbullshit.blogspot.com
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"If you pursue this the way I think you will, I'll cut you off at your knees!"
--Rob Mattson
Ballard Neighborhood District Coordinator, Department of Neighborhoods, Seattle, WA
Angrily said to your Editor on 11-2-2005
Local King and Pontiff Reviles His Serfs!!
This is your your local government working for you! This is where your tax dollars go! If you pry too far, this is how you are treated. It's always about power and money.
{Before I wrote this article, I consulted websites about libel, and then off to the races I went: http://injury-law.freeadvice.com/libel_and_slander/}{www.expertlaw.com}The following is my mixture of fact and opinion.
You have to dig into the Ballard political scene to know this bulbous little Hitler. Ballard is his town, and you'd better give up your butt for a good pounding if you want to get any city money. "Ballard is a small town," he told me. "You'd better understand that." You loyal readers can predict my reaction by now can't you? This slippery trough-feeder hides behind his disability. (I'll bet he drinks pure shots of pork grease for breakfast.)
He's legally blind.
But he's also legally corrupt. So why did he threaten your local Crusader???
I had received numerous complaints about "Crudie Rudy," you know the dickhead who blows those leaves up your dresses and male thongs on Market Street every morning. (Rudies' paycheck comes from the Ballard Merchants Association headed by Mary Hurley of Best Regards.) Well I had the audacity to question his alliance with Mary and her little toy-boy Rudie who blows leaves, as well as other items he likes to blow, but who's measuring inches here? Rob and Mary are in the same political bed. Not only do they massage each others' backs, they are in league to corn-hole every resident of Ballard. To thicken the plot a bit, Ms. Hurtful-Hurley is the President of the Ballard District Council, which meets on the second Wednesday of each month, at the new library. (More on this transparent amoeba group in a bit.) Collusion is rampant. You dear readers might be confused already, but this is how these people control you, and spend City money, all by favoritism. To explain:
I had received numerous complaints about "Crudie Rudy," you know the dickhead who blows those leaves up your dresses and male thongs on Market Street every morning. (Rudies' paycheck comes from the Ballard Merchants Association headed by Mary Hurley of Best Regards.) Well I had the audacity to question his alliance with Mary and her little toy-boy Rudie who blows leaves, as well as other items he likes to blow, but who's measuring inches here? Rob and Mary are in the same political bed. Not only do they massage each others' backs, they are in league to corn-hole every resident of Ballard. To thicken the plot a bit, Ms. Hurtful-Hurley is the President of the Ballard District Council, which meets on the second Wednesday of each month, at the new library. (More on this transparent amoeba group in a bit.) Collusion is rampant. You dear readers might be confused already, but this is how these people control you, and spend City money, all by favoritism. To explain:
Milk-tit Mattson is the City's representative to the Ballard District Council. They are the good ole boys and girls who have the power and the Glory of the Second Coming. Under the guise of "community involvement," they are there to screw you. Don't believe me? Just go to one of their meetings. You'll see how a truly modern financial bordello works. If you're willing to play their game, you're in. It's simple, that's how it works. It's been this way since the cavemen offered up their wives to other hunters to acquire a rotting, smelly dinosaur bone. So Blood-leech Rob didn't like it when I showed him a document proving his acceptance and support of the business who supports and pays for our noxious leaf blower. So he decided he could cut my legs off. I guess if you have a disability, you would like to project that to others that don't like your policies.
I promised you some clarification. Here's how the power works. Let's say you have a project you want to get off the ground. Yup, you need some money, and you find out the city has grants that will help you. Well, you live in Ballard, and you find out about the City of Seattle Department of Neighborhoods, which has grants from $250. to $100,000. For real, this money is available. But you have to start somewhere, and the City wants you to step through the hoops, just like a Vegas feather dancer. So they refer you to the Neighborhood District Coordinator, who knows the red tape, inside and out. But you'd better be nice to that person, because he/she makes recommendations to the City about your proposal. You can sink or swim here. There's only 13 of these "coordinators" for the City of Seattle. Are you with me? You piss one of these local sheiks off and you'll be blacklisted. Oh but they would never admit to that.
Our Coordinator is Rob Mattson. He's slick, mouthy, and banks on the slight percentage of advantage because of his "disability." After all, can you really bad-mouth a blind man? What would the neighbors think? So Rob knows his leverage very well. He thrives on ego massage, and knows the City basically cannot do one damn thing to curb his power base. I know this, I called his superiors about his threat. So if you want grant money, get ready to smell the brown when you pull your nose out of his ass. Except for me that is.
As mentioned, Rob is the City's representative to the Ballard District Council. Well who the Hell are these yay-hoos? The Council is a quasi-government organization. They are not paid by the City, but have various, powerful input mechanisms that really work. Any business or even "group" can be a member, if you are accepted that is. I have read their By-Laws and they are about as clear as puke in a vinegar bath. So, if you want a grant, it is best to be affiliated, in one way or another, with the Council, where King Rob sits. Are you seeing this yet? Mary Hurley is the current President of the Council, and if you want to see Evil incarnate, go to a meeting. Her persona is absolutely angelic, but her deeds are black. She's a modern day Goth in designer clothes. She is a siren whose melodic song lures you into her spidery maze, and then she calls her political and business troops in to squash you. She's ruined the Ballard Seafood Festival (unless you're an insider) with her regulatory fervor. (Sue me Mary, I've got a whole lotta other stuff on you: does the word 'dyspraxia' mean anything to you? Would the State be interested in your BMA's nefarious deeds over the years?)
So the two powers that rule Ballard (excluding Beth, et al, over at the Chamber of Commerce, which will be the subject of a future issue), are Profligate Rob and Dominatrix Mary, (I would have used the term "Strap-on" but that term has been heisted by a member of the Ballard Insurgents to describe one particularly vindictive female police officer.) I'm almost thankful that the immense financial Dukes who are behind the various condo projects are independent of these two. They, the Money barons, have bigger financial assets, and bigger power, but for the rest of us pee-ons, we have to live with the pettiness.
So if you're wanting a grant, or if you're a hot dog vendor who needs help navigating Parks and Rec, or if you need any other sort of "insider" know-how, the City wants you to go through King Rob. His phone number is (206) 684.4060. If you want to protect the herons that nest nearby, and you don't know what agency to contact, just call Guillotine Rob. If you're really fearful about Emergency Preparedness in the advent of an earthquake or a terrorist attack, call Savior Rob, after all, he is God, and certainly, we must all bow to divinity. . .
Oh, I almost forgot, do you know what my immediate answer to Rob was when he told me he'd cut my legs off at the knees? "I've got a lot of prosthetics," I said. . . . . .
Discrimination at
QFC
(and you know what the "F" stands for)
Profiling is Alive in Well in Ballard!
Weasels come in many forms. I just hate it when they happen to be hominids, masquerading as sentient, homo sapiens. Well let's just name some names here and let the chips fall where they may.
Allan is the Store Manager. Jim is the Assistant Store Manager. I hope you're impressed. Jim is also a slippery profiler that obviously is not affected by Federal Law that even reigns in cops for doing that. So what on Earth happened that pissed me off, in my never ending fight for the common man?
I park my bike outside, walk in, and pause to take my hat and gloves off. A man had just bought a sandwich and a coffee, and simply wanted to put cream and sugar in his brew. Pretty simple so far huh? Well there was a fancy thousand dollar bike absolutely blocking access to the condiments, and the man looked around for the owner, couldn't find him, and proceeded to gently move the bike out of the way. The owner of the bike, dressed in hundred dollar lycra tights, rushed over. "Hey, what'ya doing?" he asked. "I just wanted to dress up my coffee," the shopper replied. Pretty innocent so far. Well, I finished shopping, and I walk out the same North door I came in, and the same shopper (His name is Zack) looked at me, and with total exasperation, said, "I don't believe what just happened to me."
Let's take a little closer look. If you were to look at Zack that evening, you would have seen a man in jeans and old jacket, covered in mud, slightly unshaven, with steel tipped boots that had gone through Hell. Well he's obviously a transient right? And "His filthiness" moved someone's fancy-ass bike. Well we can't have vermin touching the porous cleanliness of a Gen-X man, right? And then, Heaven forbid, this slob actually sat down on the bench in there and started eating his sandwich. How dare a filthy street person sit on a QFC bench and eat his "probably stolen" sandwich. Get rid of the asshole!!!
"What happened?" I asked Zack.
"Well some store manager told me I was rude to a customer, and that I couldn't eat my sandwich in here, he basically kicked me out of the store."
"Oh really," I pondered. "Let's get him out here, because I witnessed what you did with that bike."
Well one of the cashiers was listening in, and she called oily Jim (maybe). When he walked up on his magic carpet of petroleum, I started asking questions, and asking them fast. Jim thought he could out-slippery me, and baffle me with his putrid verbage. Didn't work. He told me one of his employees relayed a message to him, that this filthy person had been rude to a customer. But remember, I saw the whole thing. "Did you tell him to leave because he was eating his sandwich on your bench?" I asked.
"I told him this was not an eating area," Jim vomited. In other words, Jammin' Jim was masking his intentions with political finesse that any fifth grader could've seen through.
Let's just take a further look at Zack. Mr. Ingraham is a carpenter, and makes $24.75 an hour. That particular day, he had "mucked out" a construction site, and it was wet, muddy, sloppy and sticky. He hadn't eaten all day, and was damn hungry. He paid his honest money at the QFC, and was so ravenous, he simply opened up the cellophane and dug in. But QFC didn't like how he looked, after all, he wasn't the pretty metrosexual with the lacquered bike was he now? And for working hard, being hungry, and making a damn good wage, he was profiled by none other than the Grand Weasel of QFC, Jim. That is outright discrimination, and for that, Up Yours Jim.
I had a one-on-one talk with Allan, the real Manager. He assured me he'd get to the bottom of it, and perhaps send Zack a courtesy card. But he, like a good little Toby, did nothing to right this wrong. "Give me a few days to figure this out," he told me. That's a stonewall. And Allan, for that, go back to Kindergarten. Little boys who have fear as a motivating factor need to start over from the course titled, "Adolescent One." Is there anybody that's even close to Sainthood (in management that is) at QFC? Yup, and his name is Martin, who, even according to various employees, is fair, reasonable, and knows how to take a joke. I know Martin, and yes he is that rare person who knows how to treat people like people. I hope you do not get corrupted young man.
And I know some of you kind readers are already wondering. . .what the Hell right did the fancy boy have bringing his bike into QFC in the first place?
A copy of this article is being sent to the various QFC managers, and President. And if I don't get satisfaction for this blatant display of discrimination, I'll go higher yet, to the Kroger headquarters in Cincinatti Ohio, just like I did with the previous Manager, (I called her Suzie QFC), who got banished to Carnation for her little indiscretions with our community. I'm sure she's faring just fine with those rural folks. . .(does the word start with "red"?).
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E-Mails Received
A Sampling. . . .
"I am here to make a case to never advertise! Yer the bulldog we all need!"--Ted
"I am told you pay for the hard-copy of the Ballard Bull**** yourself. Thanks for posting your articles on-line, it is free for you and for me."--Genevive
"Your attack journalism is offensive. Go f*** yourself."--Samuel
"Your slogan, 'Where Informed Attitude Counts' is right on the money. I am weary of the uninformed attitude in the Stranger, and I hope to see your publication grow, and be recognized by the entire city of Seattle."--Diane
"Hey, why don't you do some investigation on that pornoKing who is the editor of The Stranger. He can't be clean with such a dirty rag making him all kinds of money!"--Rachelle
(Well that's a capital idea Rachelle, give me some time on that one. I happen to think you're right--Dan Savage is a terrestrial black hole who has reduced journalism to one low common denominator. Not to worry, he will just be another rich lemming who will not be remembered. Quality reporting will always be respected and quoted.)
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Fronds
little snippets about our community
"What comedian designer configured the region between our legs--an entertainment complex built around a sewage system?"
--"The Perimeter of Ignorance" by Neil deGrasso
"Ballard will become more of a bedroom community to Seattle."--Bob Hawley, third generation commercial real estate broker in Ballard. Think about that quote dear readers!
Roberto Minghetti foiled a robbery at The Smokeshop Restaurant (Ballard Ave) on November 3rd. You know what his reward was for being a courageous citizen? He got fired. Yup, it's true. Why don't you tell the owner, Tom, what you think of this?
Ballard's New Park (adjacent to the Library): What a gem this 1.4 acre plot is turning out to be. The kids got a brand new skate bowl (better than the old one they tell me), there is lots of open space, a whole lot of grass to be lazy on, and a first class design meant for people. I love it. The same firm who built the Library built this multi-use, 1st class modern park. Don't worry, the transients cannot fill that whole space with puke!
Parking Pigs at Bartell's: have you seen the pricks who think they're FBI employees, policing the parking lot at Bartell's? They're small timers, taking their jobs way too seriously. . .and pissing off a host of legitimate shoppers who just might be five minutes over the 45 minute strict parking enforcement.
"If you're traveling faster than light, would you be in the dark?--H.C. Petley (local writer).
The Silver Cloud Hotel: What's that? It's the name of Ballard's first hotel to be built in many decades. It will grace the parking lot of the Yankee Diner, and have 172 units. This is a done deal, we'll see construction begin next year. All the permits are in place. That will be change, for sure. Which makes me think about all of those hundreds of thousands of salmon that climb the fish ladder nearby. . .does the term "poaching for tourists" mean anything to anyone?
QFC to be demolished, then rise again: the new QFC: scheduled to begin construction next summer, it will have two underground parking levels, a new store at ground level, and an astounding 270 residential units above! Wow! 85 feet is till the maximum building height, but the skyscape will change over there on 24th, what with the two brand new seven floor condo projects being built right now adjacent to QFC.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Obituary for Our Friend Todd Kennemer
Todd committed suicide on November 17th, 2005
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Ballard Bull****
Volume 2, Number 10, ©December, 2005
"Where Informed Attitude Counts"
Editor, Publisher, Lead Writer: Richard B. Andrews
e: ballard bullshit@yahoo.com
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Obituary
Todd Kennemer
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______________________________________________________________________________
Ballard Bull****
Volume 2, Number 10, ©December, 2005
"Where Informed Attitude Counts"
Editor, Publisher, Lead Writer: Richard B. Andrews
e: ballard bullshit@yahoo.com
* * * * *
Obituary
Todd Kennemer
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But we all have those areas that haunt us. Those caverns that are private. Those areas of the psyche that have never been explained: not by Native shamans, not by Freud and Jung, not by parents. It seems each generation tries to put a definitive moniker to these depths of the human mind, to no avail.
Arguably, to possess genius is to confront demons.
After Todd's nervous breakdown, and analysis at Harborview, he went to convalesce at his folks house near San Diego. I called him. The only request he made of me, was to send him a current issue of the Bull****, so he would "keep his tap on Ballard," and have some much needed local humor. Upon his return, Todd was prescribed some of the most powerful anti psychotic/depressant, new generation drugs available. His Father, Rex, brought him back to Ballard.
Connie Kennemer, Todd's Mother:
"In 1986 my family moved to San Diego from Tucson, Arizona to start a season of ministry in a missions organization. We moved during Todd's Kindergarten year. My husband, Rex, and I had anticipated being able to put our only child in a private Christian school. The move, however, had taxed our finances and we were prevented from making this choice. We were disappointed and apprehensive about entrusting our one and only to a public school setting. In fact, my personal apprehension reached epic proportions as Todd's first day at Westwood Elementary found 2 Kennemers in the Kindergarten classroom--Todd and Mom.
"I saw and heard things that afternoon that chilled my soul and convinced me that this was not the environment for my innocent young man!. . .I can still recount the desperation I felt as I cried out to the Lord that afternoon on behalf of my heart's treasure, my little Todd."
But Mrs. Kennemer's faith would guide her through this crisis. She started a prayer group named "Mom's in Touch." "That. . .was the beginning of an ongoing prayer walk for my son. As a college sophomore Todd has been the recipient of hours of prayer, gifts of love given by women who battle weekly, praying for the lives of their children. My son's life--and this mother's life--have been molded by this hour of power. . ."
Rex and Connie Kennemer are missionaries. Connie is in advanced stages of MS. They have been Christians for decades, and tried to implant the Faith in their only child. Whatever the outcome of that effort, Todd received the ultimate gift from his parents: the gift of Love. This was cemented inside Todd as much as any DNA double helix that defines what we look like. And that was evident to all who knew him. But there are penalties when you have that much Love inside of you--you are under attack, nonstop, from the Evil forces who hate that.
The enormity of those forces were not understood by Todd. And when the maelstrom swarmed his consciousness for just one too many times, he took his life; it was just too much. No amount of medication could penetrate and calm his almost Poe-esque consciousness. The powerful vortex and pressures of Beelzebub were more fearful than life itself.
And because of that, we lost an angel.
Todd's Mother:
"For fifteen years I have had the awesome privilege of praying for Todd, one hour every week--joining hearts with godly moms, committed to their children and their God. It has changed everything. I am now a woman of prayer. Moms In Touch has the definite markings of a Prayer Revolution. . .and what about Todd, the recipient of this concentrated attention? Let me share a few sentences from an endearing e-mail I received while he was attending college in Chicago:
"For fifteen years I have had the awesome privilege of praying for Todd, one hour every week--joining hearts with godly moms, committed to their children and their God. It has changed everything. I am now a woman of prayer. Moms In Touch has the definite markings of a Prayer Revolution. . .and what about Todd, the recipient of this concentrated attention? Let me share a few sentences from an endearing e-mail I received while he was attending college in Chicago:
'I love you so much, Mom. . .most people have no reason to keep going in life, with MS or not, but you press on through every painful day, out of love for God and for Dad and I. I slack in my studies, I don't practice my music, I don't read my Bible every day. I forget to pray, and my Mom has not ceased praying for me for as long as I can remember, and even before. . .'
"An hour a week, well-spent!"
Excerpts from
Fly Away
by Connie Kennemer
Fly away. . .Child of mine
Fly away. . .It is time
I've packed up all your yesterdays
I'm framing your todays
The Lord holds your tomorrows
So I stretch my hand and say
Fly away
Prayers I whispered, prayers I cried
Asked the Lord to be your guide
He won your heart at three years old
And still we watch His plan unfold
Now you're grown and soon you'll part
Years of prayer have shaped your heart
I trust you now into God's hands
Release you now--my child, a man
©Kenn-Owen Music (ASCAP)
