Headline: Lawmaker Destroys Shopping Carts
The homeless make him angry.
They’re in the way. He doesn’t
find them scenic. How dare they
survive on the street, in parks,
in alleys, doorways and beaches.
Making life even more difficult
for those at the end of choices
is his answer to their problems.
Euthanasia would likely please
him. Has he never lost a job?
Run out of money? Been robbed
or beaten? Never been hungrier
than a good steak fixed? He can’t
understand how people scrape,
pick trash to survive, pushing
all that remains of their past
in a shopping cart. Their lives
aren’t hard enough, he thinks,
planning how to vanish them
taking the little they have left.
Marc D. Goldfinger
The dope calling to me again, junk sick, dirty
money clutched tightly in my sweaty palm, I find
myself in the subterranean apartment of the Troll.
The shelves that lined the stone walls were filled
with bottles of blood, a name on every bottle. The
Troll takes a bottle down as I walk in and I ask
what is up with this. He answers,
“This shipment of heroin came in mixed
with the blood of dead junkies; nothing
gets wasted except for our lives.”
I hesitate as he fills an eye
dropper with blood and hands
it my way. Ask if they used
the blood of junkies who had died with AIDS.
“Of course,” said the Troll, “but it’s
only the blood of junkies who died
of overdose; we mixed it with lemon dope
but no lemon juice is necessary. The acidity
of the blood boosts the high.” The sickness
fed my urgency and I watch as the blood
from the dropper disappears
into a metal spike plugged into my vein,
wait for the rush, watch my name
appear on one of the bottles as the Troll
moves his old wooden wheelchair
to the next customer, eyes yellow
with desire, who walks in the door.
“You’re gonna like this,” is the last thing
I hear him say.
The Many Faces Of Terrorism
Let’s start with a passage from “Outrage Builds
After Collapse in Bangladesh,” the front page
article in today’s New York Times:
“Even in a situation of grave threat, when they
saw cracks in the walls, the factory managers
thought it was too risky not to work because of
pressure on them from U.S. and European
retailers to deliver goods on time,” said Dara
O’Rourke, an expert on workplace monitoring
at the University of California, Berkeley. He
added that the prices Western companies pay
“are so low that they are at the root of why these
factories are cutting corners on fire safety and
So, 250 people die. Most of them extremely poor
women, many of them very young. We’d call
them children in this country.
Will there be memorials here in America for
this all-too-common tragedy? No? Why not?
Because these human beings lived ten thousand
Are we not a human family? And if we say no,
then shouldn’t we close the churches, synagogues,
and mosques here in the states right now and be
completely honest with ourselves about what our
bottom line values are?
And, finally, should we not expand our definition