posted on Aug, 21 2013 @ 06:11 PM
I had a seriously hard time believing this is real.
How is that not essentially a concentration camp -- a camp of people concentrated in one place, unable to go or leave at will, based on some arbitrary
If we send them all to a foodless desert area we can call it a "reservation" instead.
Let me tell you a true story. This was one of those defining moments of realization in my life.
In late 1991 I was living in Ventura California USA. I was a corporate officer in a tiny R&D company (a whole conspiracy topic of its own lol -- but
only the corporate sort, not the woo sort), but we were still investor dependent. I will not bore you with the ridiculous IRS/tax court story which is
yet another stupid-government story (having to do with investing and tax laws, not the company, except that some of the people affected were our
investors), except to say that as a result, for a period we were seriously low on money for payroll.
Since I was going through a stage in my life where I was mourning the childhood I never really had, the CEO and I came to a deal: I would work
semi-part time, he would give me a place to stay no expenses with his family for a few months, and then he would give me a bulk sum, and I could
either use that to get a decent place to stay, or whatever. My vehicle had died utterly and I thought I'd buy a used vehicle with it, and then I got
the bright idea to buy an RV-Van conversion -- the max length and height you can have in a van. When I was young in the 70s, I knew several people who
lived in their vans (note: Ventura had a huge Grateful Dead contingent and is a beach city, so this kind of thing was not too shocking the way it
would be in colder, less hippy regions). I loved the idea of having a vehicle I could drive anywhere, and stay in if I had to.
So all this occurred as planned, and I invested a good sum into really dressing it up inside. I usually lived with a couple different friends in that
period I was very close to, but once in awhile I would stay in the van as well. I had my sailboard in there, my Doors and Jimi tie-dye posters and my
guitar, what more did I need? LOL
One day I was parked down by the railroad tracks awaiting a friend to come home, who lived in the very bad neighborhood there. I had my door open and
was playing guitar and a variety of people wandered up to see me. The riverbed was filled with homeless people. They weren't "allowed" a
shantytown, so it was more a matter of showing up in the dark and sleeping in your personal box, tent, whatever, and being gone by morning light.
Sometimes I'd park there, share my food with a few folks, but it started freaking me out that a lot of the people were younger men -- one I even
recognized from high school! I would ask them, what the hell? Why are you living in the dry riverbed?! And they'd say things like, well I lost my job
and then I ended up evicted and then I couldn't get a job because I didn't have a phone number and couldn't say I had secure transportation and so
on. Or other versions of this, including, well I didn't have enough cash for first month rent, last month rent, security deposit, plus good credit
(note: not all 3 of the first were already required but they usually just scaled one up to amount to the same thing) so it's just never worked out,
any other option. After awhile they would be clearly demoralized, constant malnutrition was obviously doing a number on them, not to mention the other
psychological issues that come with that.
Well I was thinking that was sure too bad, and noticing that every single person my parents knew had already fled California. (When I moved from there
a few years later, it cost 300% more to rent a moving trailer out of the state than into it, the flood of immigrants going outward was so huge. Ask
almost anybody in the next couple levels of states that surround CA and they'll tell you about how CA's flood of immigrants wiped out their real
estate markets and so on.) I would sit sometimes in a parking space near an intersection and watch all these $30,000 cars going by and I'd be
thinking, what the heck? Where does everybody GET all this money?! I mean, I had a good job ok, way better than most people my age at the time, better
even than most people who had one or two degrees I didn't have. I was definitely not poor by any measure. But I certainly couldn't afford a car that
costs that much. And in that region, it's the definition of tourist trap, you can't afford to stay and can't afford to leave, a big bulk of the
jobs are retail/banking/food, so it's not like the average payroll was high. I told myself that if anything ever happened to my job, I needed to
escape to another state as fast as I could, while I still could, or I'd be living under the bridge with the others.
So one night a couple months after that period, I decided to park in the business-industrial district.
To be continued