Friday, December 12, 2008
Jack Mayne
Last known photo of vitriolic Jack MayneJack Mayne
Editor of the
Ballard News-Tribune
FIRED!
Exclusive to Ballard Bullshit
A Silent Dismissal Brought to Light
Jack Mayne, the pickled, vicious misogynist finally got his ass removed from Ballard's only weekly newspaper. The Robinson brothers, who own the News-Tribune and several other small Seattle publications, finally got rid of a snake whose venom spewed all over our fine berg for too long. That's right, even old friends turn the screw.
This relic from the Edward R. Murrow school of journalism thought he could re-create the cigar-chomping style from an era that squeezed out talent, only to be replaced by rank amateurs he could control. Legend has it he was one of the staff who invented the AP style of writing, which would become the new standard for American yellow journalism. Instead of surrounding himself with people who gave a direct representation of facts without interpretation, he eliminated anyone on his staff who would threaten his power base. Excellence in his office was rewarded with an old trick of the industry, i.e., he would shorten your hours and assign you asinine topics. I knew some damn fine reporters he crushed this way. One of them was a Chinese/American, with decades in the trade.
But Shithead Mayne found his deliverance. . .nothing like a good dose of "get lost and find some talismans for your sarcophagus."
With this fossil, if you weren't white, you weren't right.
This sinking piece of pond scum, this 'man' who ruined lives and careers, received his just rewards. I read his personal agenda within five minutes of meeting him. But the Ballard community, ever forgiving, was willing to let him have a length of rope, and then another. Well let this little article be the final yank on the noose.
The trap door has opened, and the literary gimp is now hanging in the pure ocean air, awaiting the ravens who will eagerly peck out his bile-filled eyes, only to puke out the excrescence because even that coagulated witches brew is too putrid to stomach.
Quoth those ravens, "Nevermore. . . . . ."
This relic from the Edward R. Murrow school of journalism thought he could re-create the cigar-chomping style from an era that squeezed out talent, only to be replaced by rank amateurs he could control. Legend has it he was one of the staff who invented the AP style of writing, which would become the new standard for American yellow journalism. Instead of surrounding himself with people who gave a direct representation of facts without interpretation, he eliminated anyone on his staff who would threaten his power base. Excellence in his office was rewarded with an old trick of the industry, i.e., he would shorten your hours and assign you asinine topics. I knew some damn fine reporters he crushed this way. One of them was a Chinese/American, with decades in the trade.
But Shithead Mayne found his deliverance. . .nothing like a good dose of "get lost and find some talismans for your sarcophagus."
With this fossil, if you weren't white, you weren't right.
This sinking piece of pond scum, this 'man' who ruined lives and careers, received his just rewards. I read his personal agenda within five minutes of meeting him. But the Ballard community, ever forgiving, was willing to let him have a length of rope, and then another. Well let this little article be the final yank on the noose.
The trap door has opened, and the literary gimp is now hanging in the pure ocean air, awaiting the ravens who will eagerly peck out his bile-filled eyes, only to puke out the excrescence because even that coagulated witches brew is too putrid to stomach.
Quoth those ravens, "Nevermore. . . . . ."
* * *
The Hierarchy
of the
Homeless
The Hierarchy
of the
Homeless
For decades I have been involved in many layers of assistance for the disadvantaged. From elderly shut-ins to gutter punks. In between that gulf live the Homeless, the hapless, and the hungry.
Government agencies tend to effect things in clumps; monies or concerns are allocated and dedicated by group definitions. E.g., children's health care, the poor, animal control, etc. And then there's 'the Homeless.'
But wait a minute--should shelters, re-hab programs, food assistance--should those 'social programs' all sit under the aid package to those classified as 'the Homeless?' No,no. Why don't we use a biblical word instead--Lepers. After all, that's what 'they' are treated like, isn't it now?
I would prefer the phrase 'cornucopia of humanity.' Actually, I don't even like the term 'disadvantaged' (which I just used), because I've known far too many people with money who are just that--emotional cripples, lonely, bitter, but. . .uh, they have riches.
So let me break down 'the Homeless' for you:
Government agencies tend to effect things in clumps; monies or concerns are allocated and dedicated by group definitions. E.g., children's health care, the poor, animal control, etc. And then there's 'the Homeless.'
But wait a minute--should shelters, re-hab programs, food assistance--should those 'social programs' all sit under the aid package to those classified as 'the Homeless?' No,no. Why don't we use a biblical word instead--Lepers. After all, that's what 'they' are treated like, isn't it now?
I would prefer the phrase 'cornucopia of humanity.' Actually, I don't even like the term 'disadvantaged' (which I just used), because I've known far too many people with money who are just that--emotional cripples, lonely, bitter, but. . .uh, they have riches.
So let me break down 'the Homeless' for you:
The Artists
Today's media shove their version of Art down our craws continually. Therefore that's what people buy. I have met and critiqued tremendous writers, musicians, and painters in the homeless community who would shame New York City's best. The difference? America won't buy from Lepers.
The Pigs
These folks are usually the visible faces of the ogres: the filthy, smelly shufflers who are always on 'main street.' Knot-haired, hole-clothed unkempt people who don't give a shit about themselves, or you. Checkbooks and credit cards close now, because the stereotype becomes cemented. The medical difficulties these people experience are immense.
The Thieves and the On-The-Runs
Those who have a very private network slide between jail and a free meal somewhere. They combine efforts with the 'drugsters.' These true losers, well-known in the Leper community, are feared and despised. They are the alpha hunters, the Ted Bundys who prey on anyone and anything. Police even leave these bottom-feeders alone, hoping they will move on. Many have outstanding warrants, and think nothing of beating the weak for silence. In 1910, these slippery fakes without morals would have been known as "yeggs,"--a truly fearful term, then.
The Saints
How can a Leper be a Saint? Well just open your eyes. Some are certain Christ will be here shortly. Some are agnostic, and live by an inner code of sanctity and giving, minus God. They are forgiving, beautiful individuals who quite literally have given many the shirt off their backs, and all the food from their poke. They are easily taken advantage of, but don't mind--the very fact they are alive means they can continue a life of penitence, and live for others' comfort. So just a note for you bishops, pastors, and ministers--go fuck yourselves, then re-enter the seminary of real life.
The Insane
Mental illness is rampant, and, at very least, recognized by the State as a genuine affliction amongst the Lepers. Survival is most operative, at all times. They are not feared in this community, as much as tolerated and pitied.
The Independents
These are the mysterious people who are not crazy, not martyrs, and not interested in re-joining the System. They are usually veterans, some are University educated, and all are fairly balanced people. This is where the word 'choice' really is a true lifestyle. They've played the game, recognized the folly of it, and have made a home in their van, or have skirted the law (trespass that is) with a mobile tent. I met one fellow with a Bachelor's in Philosophy who had a warm, comfortable flat above the railroad tracks--dug into a hill that is. Internal visqueen sheathing, a tiny heater (doubling as a stove), a little 12 volt light package, and a wood pallet floor. Oh, and by the way Mr. Visitor, would you take your shoes off please?
Summation
Dear Readers, are you following the thread here? The varied culture we call 'the Homeless' is a mirror image of all levels of any civilization. There is one glowing difference though: Truth is more an emotional issue amongst the Lepers than it is in society at large.
Money hides Truth. . .poverty insists it's an issue.
Extremes are magnified. Power rests more in sheer personal dominance here, but submission is temporary. The financial slave system, so apropos in traditional cultural structures, is a temporal anomaly in the Leper colonies.
Creativity oozes like an undersea thermal vent in this subculture. Society be damned. If you're any student of History at all, you'll appreciate the literature, the works of art, the music, et al, that has sprung from the netherworlds of a nation. Chaim Soutine, the expatriated Russian Jew, ate cockroaches in Paris, circa the early 1900's. Now, if you could find one of his paintings for sale, you'd pay thirty million dollars. Caravaggio, a starving convicted murderer, found pardon with the Pope in the 1600's, only because no one could paint like he did. Allan Ginsberg had to have his first book of poems, "Howl," printed in England, because he was considered a vile, gutter living homosexual here in the States. Jimi Hendrix fled his rat-infested house and joined the military--for three hots and a cot.
These anecdotes tell how there is an escape, but while in the Leper colony, you get used to ridicule and rejection. The road out is perseverance, and there is no lack of that 'mongst the Lepers.
They have time for excellence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .do you?
Money hides Truth. . .poverty insists it's an issue.
Extremes are magnified. Power rests more in sheer personal dominance here, but submission is temporary. The financial slave system, so apropos in traditional cultural structures, is a temporal anomaly in the Leper colonies.
Creativity oozes like an undersea thermal vent in this subculture. Society be damned. If you're any student of History at all, you'll appreciate the literature, the works of art, the music, et al, that has sprung from the netherworlds of a nation. Chaim Soutine, the expatriated Russian Jew, ate cockroaches in Paris, circa the early 1900's. Now, if you could find one of his paintings for sale, you'd pay thirty million dollars. Caravaggio, a starving convicted murderer, found pardon with the Pope in the 1600's, only because no one could paint like he did. Allan Ginsberg had to have his first book of poems, "Howl," printed in England, because he was considered a vile, gutter living homosexual here in the States. Jimi Hendrix fled his rat-infested house and joined the military--for three hots and a cot.
These anecdotes tell how there is an escape, but while in the Leper colony, you get used to ridicule and rejection. The road out is perseverance, and there is no lack of that 'mongst the Lepers.
They have time for excellence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .do you?
