SB 1070 really? Prison industry helped draft this debacle of a bill

Just saw this one and I’m not really happy about what I’ve read. The bill itself inflicts stupid holes in the ability of our police to do their jobs as well as provides dangerous leeway for arresting people who happen to be suspiciously not … white. There is a long held understanding that industries often assist with laws that would affect them, and the route to dangerous conflicts of interest is fraught there.

Over at NPR, there’s an article on exactly where this sort of conflict of interest can go.

I don’t think that the people who directly benefit from the arrest and seizure of persons should ever have any say in criminal law. Unless it directly indicates their behavior (in which case they should have a say) but if it’s about what constitutes a crime outside of their purview or how long a sentence should go, they aren’t welcome.

Connections to private prison interests are everywhere in lobbies for criminal bills, with politicians, and other elements of our government—it is an extremely powerful, deeply set, highly moneyed industry.

That’s not safe for anyone.

Link, via NPR.

Tornados in Flagstaff

Not that far from me—well, if you see 150 miles being “not that far away”—some tornados decided to come and play havoc with a town that one of my friends constantly tries to get me to move to. Flagstaff, a city well known for its railroads and snow (and the fact that they’re not far from Sedona and the UFOs) got a licking recently.

The first tornado hit Bellemont — west of Flagstaff — around 5:30 a.m. Wednesday and the second touched down east of the small community a short time later. The third was reported along Interstate 17 just south of Flagstaff around noon.

Fifteen homes in Bellemont were so badly damaged that they were uninhabitable and the estimated 30 people who lived in them were evacuated. Authorities were setting up a shelter at midmorning Wednesday, said Coconino County Sheriff's Office spokesman Gerry Blair.

About 30 RVs were damaged at a business in Bellemont that sells the vehicles and runs a campground for RVs.

Of course RVs! I would be more socked if it hadn’t been a trailer park that drew the maw of doom down upon them.

Point in fact, I was just in Flagstaff not too long ago: Monday. Went there to check things out, kick a few tires, and get rained on—as Gaea herself decided to open the floodgates when I visited. The truth of the matter is that I really enjoy rain, however, I wasn’t driving at the time so I cannot say much for people attempting to navigate the roads.

The thunder and lightning really were something.

I believe that the tornado warning for much of Arizona has come to a close already (5pm today, Wednesday, last I heard.) So stay safe out there.

Link, via the Associated Press.

Anizona 2009

I just spent the entire weekend at Anizona 2009. An event which Arizona really needs badly, which everyone who attended the closing ceremonies has heard is going to be on hiatus for at least a year. So there will be no Anizona 2010.

I have collected a certain number of notes from the experience—including some observations on how many Naruto headbands vs. Urahara hats appeared (Friday, Naruto won; Saturday, it was definitely Urahara.) We saw zombies, mercenaries, a giant moogle, Yoshi, and many excellent cosplayers. We even experienced the Gong Show which was an amusing jaunt—at least Friday and Sunday, the Saturday Gong judges treated the thing like the worst of American Idol and fairly much made the experience a bit of a letdown. If I had it in me, I might have actually tried to sing at the second one. Except that judges didn’t want singing, and I’d already caught some form of con crud.

Yes, there really is a word for it: Con Crud. Whenever you put that many people together, for that long of a time, some form of epidemic is going to spread—in this case it’s an evil sort of phlegmy sore throat. Knocked out the upper-register of my voice. Try singing with no upper register.

Geeks are also not well known for their hygiene and cosplay outfits quickly pick up dinge and funk even in a matter of 24 hours worn.

In the news of the neato and sweet, a friend of mine even came on Friday, cosplaying as Vex Harrow.

I will work out some of the other stories from the event as the week wears on.

No Mill Avenue Nights this week—it was all animé convention.

And there are indeed photographs.

Mill Avenue Vexations Volume 10: The Girl in the Mirror

Mill Avenue Vexations Volume 10: The Girl in the Mirror by Kyt Dotson is available online for readers to enjoy! And, as usual, there are free copies available to people who can get out to Mill Ave in Tempe.

Strange stuff is really brewing in Tempe now that Vex has run into her potential adversary at the Bash on Ash, and in her usual terms, punched her in the jaw.

This doesn't mean that the threat has ended, of course, as while she's taken away an item of some significant power, she doesn't know what it means. Disappearances continue. The city is agitated. And for one of the newer characters, Megan, things are definitely getting hairy: she's started seeing things in mirrors.

Not just any things, but a particular dead girl.

This volume displays art from a considerable number of sources. The cover is by one of my new favorite artists, Del Borovic (*exileddelusion) who did the front cover. And Katie de Sousa (=yumedust), whose brilliant and majestic portrait of Vex is the back cover. Internal artwork and chapter headings are done by Alan Gallo.

You can see the full cover on Mill Avenue Vexations.

So, don't miss Volume 10: The Girl in The Mirror.

CameraFRAUD.com, the cameras are watching

Shushing over the dark asphalt like octopus ink, thundering on hooves of rubber our car rides into the night; streetlights flashing bars of stereo-glow through the windows like a fan over an interrogation lamp.

“Here it comes,” I say.

And Kazz, smiles, the tinge of starlight making his teeth steely white in the dim flicker. He reaches up to the windshield and displays his middle finger.

It follows a small machine set along the side of the street like a heliotrope following the sun. A giant “SCREW YOU!” memorized by the traffic camera’s CCD, shot down wires in digital pulses, and stored somewhere for a muzzy eyed, blowsy faced political tech to scan it over while looking through reams of footage of the street.

These are the speed cameras of Phoenix, set out along the 101.

A terrible fraud meted out upon the city without vote, without democratic decision, and without ethical worth. These have been discussed before as a revenue source for the city—their blinding flashes chitterling scintilla bright against the dark as they photograph cars—and that they supposedly decrease crashes and make the roads safer (an effect not shown in any evidence.)

Instead, they defraud the public, produce a surveillance society, and slowly line the pockets of the Redflex Corporation.

Most of the time the tickets delivered from their cameras aren’t even legal and you can just throw them away; sometimes the process servers are corrupt and lazy, appear at the doors of people who aren’t home, or lie about the delivery, or pass them onto children who then forget.

Fight back with CameraFRAUD.com or at inform yourself on the subject. These cameras are not our friends, neither is Skynet or Terminators or whatever other machine masters purloining the public good for their own corporate greed.

We really need to stand up to these pathetic attempts to lie to the public, defraud the community, and generally make us less safe in an attempt to chew through extra money at the expense of civil rights.

Borders on Mill Ave closing down

Verified by a worker in Borders, they are closing up on January 31^st.

After they have left us, we will have no more bookstores on Mill Ave that cater to contemporary works! So, we really need someone to take up the slack—even a small mom and pop outfit would be welcome. Please.

May not be able to take up the location that Borders is vacating, but something would be welcome.

The closing comes on the heels of about four shops opening on Mill in recent months, as the area attempts to recover from more than a year of economic woes. Several Mill Avenue merchants have said Tempe's downtown is struggling because of the economy and competition from Tempe Marketplace, near Rio Salado Parkway and McClintock Drive.

Vic Linoff use to own Those Were the Days book and antique store on Mill Avenue, which closed earlier this year. He's now leasing out the space in the building he owns.

"We have a lot of difficulty leasing our space, but that is not surprising given there are more stores closing than opening," he said.

There is some commentary that everyone is blaming the Tempe Marketplace; and in fact this is true. In some ways it is to "blame." Because it is pulling away a lot of the retail power that Mill Ave has.

However, this is like blaming an invasive species of animal for trashing an ecosystem because it's better adapted than the other animals. It's just doing what it tends to do. The Tempe Marketplace is a giant mall that is pulling away the economy from Mill because Mill was built too much around the type of retail stores that work extremely well in the Marketplace.

Mill simply needs to respond by diversifing into niches that large retail stores do not cover. Especially those niches that malls are extremely bad for: kiosks, bazaars, eclectic stores, and book stores that cater to the cultural Bohemian.

Link, via AZ Central.

Mill Avenue Nights Saturday November 15th 2008

Envy

An astute reader by now might wonder why I keep bringing her up. Partially because she’s a person from last year, and someone worthwhile. And also partially because she is of the romantic affect that the written word is immortal and by writing her name in my research she also drinks of that immortality.

So be it.

Envy has been coming to Mill for about two years now. She’s worthwhile company for the time she spends. Takes my books. An avid reader. It’ll be less interesting without her around for the next few months. Although, this possibly also means I’ll miss her until I leave again.

Orange Signs

There were a bunch of odd, orange signs on the Ave today. They seem to point to a walk or a march event taking place. For the most part they were big orange signs with blue circles, white arrows within—one in particular said “Walkers please use crosswalk,” another one stated, “Another death happens every two and a half minutes.” Whatever they’re walking for…

Mountain View High School Marching Band

About the time that everyone hit the red bricks I noticed a cadre of drummers circled in front of Coffee Plantation. It is uncommon for anyone to go unmolested by the overzealous, pompous guards of the Centerpoint complex so I wondered what they might be about (or if the Coffee management were asleep.) The drummers added to their midst a flautist (possibly a clarinet, actually) and a young lady spinning glow sticks.

I stopped another young lady soliciting donations, a troupe captain’s hat outstretched—she told me that they were a marching band and they were with Mountain View. That they’ve gotten extremely close to winning state finals.

Good luck to them.

Mill Avenue Evangelicals

Tonight they played some loud music at the SFTS when they were in front of the Post Office at the beginning of the night. Taking the weapon that the SFTS use against them very commonly (music) and turning it back. Although terrible covers of various songs, it was funny to hear something similar to the Beach Boys singing a re-imagining of “Fun, Fun, Fun.” Except that most of the words were replaced becoming “fun, fun, fun while Jesus preaches the word—” or something very similar.

It didn’t take long after the SFTS set up that the evangelicals abruptly changed positions to take up in front of Borders and then, like the clockwork machine they are, the SFTS followed.

Continued on my Better Than Faith observations blog.

Night’s Wrap Up

Pretty much the wind was up tonight. Blustering between the buildings, rustling the trees with a vengeance. I didn’t wear my hat tonight, which made something of a problem when my hair kept trying to whip me in the face. I like to use a bandana or some interesting hat to keep it in check.

Ah, yes, and to anyone who wonder’s about my makeup.

Priss Stratton from Bladerunner. Watch the movie. Thou’ll understand.

Mill Avenue Nights Friday November 14th 2008

The Mill Ave Coaches

These carriages ride up and down the Ave, giving visitors the experience of riding a horse-drawn buggy. They are elegant, white painted buggies with green and black velveteen upholstery, smiling cowboy coachmen (and women) who treat their fares like high class taxi riders. The horses are beautiful, huge dusty brown and white creatures with chests larger than kegs and flaring nostrils—Clydesdales with their huge hooves and scratchy manes.

A ride costs about $20 for twenty minutes.

The Clydesdales sound different from the mounted police; the clop of their hooves echoes a more pastoral, polite sort of canter as they draw the carriages rattling past. Snorting gently against the patting of passersby and interested parties. During my observation more people seemed interested in touching the horses and getting pictures than slaking their curiosity in the business. I hope that they can keep it up.

Mill Ave Trivia

I met a middle-aged man tonight who paused to talk to me as I sat and wrote in my book. He had some things to say about how much Mill Ave has changed in the past twenty-five years or so. Including that there once was a car dealership down at the end of Mill, near Mill’s End, in fact. Possibly where the hotel is right now.

Dana Brothers Dodge.

I’ve never seen it, so I am hoping to find old pictures of the property.

Envy & Cole

It’s been a long while since I last saw Envy. Early last year in fact. She is one of the more lively and talkative street rats, and is still hooked up with Cole. We spent a while speaking, standing aloof of the crowds whispering by on the red bricks; I leaning on my cane and she straight-backed, Christopher Paolini’s new book, Brisingr, in the crook of her arm.

She just got back from visiting California and will probably not be seen on the Ave for a few months—an understatement from her—as she’s pregnant and already having back pains. I made sure that she and Cole received a copy of Volume 9.

Ben

Of course, he came out with his amazing colored contacts—white against his olive complexioned face. I’m still waiting for the day that he puts together his horror troupe and starts making amazing movies al a Troma.

Even without the drum circle present it’s still possible to collect street rats around the bronze-man. As Ben and I sat and chatted about the recent changes to Mill Ave (mostly on my side the sudden proliferation of eateries—which makes me wonder how that has affected Monti’s business)—and the different stores that have come and gone from the Andre Building and other locations across the street.

We were drawn into a surreal, confusing conversation with a street rat so drunk that we could smell him like a perfume of alcohol from feet away. He wanted to know if the “government” said “F-you” and told us we had to fend for ourselves would we fight? Could we trust our family? …very, very drunk.

The Street Preachers

The night began with the discovery of street preachers in front of Urban Outfitters. They came with a large, tall sign depicting their god, Jesus, being whipped and insulted by Roman soldiers. Among their crew were Tom (a grey-blonde haired man of some celebrity) and Ed, an older man who I’ve known for some time as I’ve been coming to the Ave.

There were also some people set up in front of the Post Office—the same two that we met on Halloween. While they did come over and visit with the preachers in front of Urban Outfitters I am not sure if they’re connected. I believe it was thought that they were with The Door, but right now I’m not quite sure.

The elder with the trumpet and his semi-charismatic partner, a man who looks like he was taken directly out of a 40s Humphrey Bogart film, probably The Big Sleep. He has a raw boned, handsome look and his eyes simply look through people or past them.

Further observations and narrative at my Better than Faith Mill Avenue Resistance Column

Night’s Conclusion

Pretty much we concluded the night by gathering a small cadre of street rats around the bronze man. We caught up on the passage of time. A few have come in from California and one other from Nebraska. I got to make the acquaintance of Evil Chuck—a punk/metal rocker type who wore ragged clothing, carried a CD with the new Slayer album, and a vibrant personality. And Shawn, a black-clad who mentioned that he was happy to see more goths coming out to the Ave, as we are a twilight bunch on the red bricks.

There were also fireworks.

Apparently from a basketball game.

The first few hollow gunfire booms caught me by surprise as they echoed between the buildings and startled the bats into a frenzy, their tiny bodies flickering bright white and yellow hither-and-thither as they flitted between the trees. The fireworks, though hidden invisibly behind me by a tall building, reflected themselves in fractured mezzotint patterns, repeated and spit across the windows of the unfinished Centerpointe Towers. They compete, however laughably, with the red beacons flashing atop the towers. Flashes of red, blue, green, white—scintillating like dying flowers, falling and burning pedals that eventually fade to embers and disappear in the lower windows.

Mill Avenue Nights Saturday November 8th 2008

The Thirsty Dog

There is a new venue on the Ave, which I am extremely excited about. It’s called The Thirsty Dog and it’s actually a little bit difficult to find. This is because they’re not directly off Mill like most of the other shops—instead, they’re on a side street, around the corner from the Post Office.

Mill Avenue has long suffered a dearth of stop-and-get-out style food shops that cater to the, “I want something now,” crowd in the way that gas station and convenience store stop-and-rob style locations do. For a while there certainly was the gas station on the very end of Mill at University—but that’s a CVS now (of course, we can get what we want there, but why walk all that way?)

Why indeed. The Thirsty Dog is staying open until 2am Friday and Saturday so go check them out and say hello for me.

The Drum Circle

I keep hearing from my fans that they’ve been avoiding the spot due to a change in culture. This I’ve witnessed myself—insofar that I’ve been on the Ave—but I haven’t had much time to comment on it. Indeed, for the past two weeks the number of drummers has diminished somewhat and I haven’t seen much in the way of talkative folk who actually used to come around.

The gathering still persists, however, and I do see people who I’d like out on the Ave. The problems that see extant happen to be a general apathy for the get-together itself. It is the fundamental hangout spot, but perhaps we’re suffering uncanny beginning of winter blues or something similar.

The Ave

So far Saturday, I met several of my favorite people. Starting with Mark, my favorite fan, who of course got a book! Then Ben appeared with his amazing eyes—he went as a zombie Joker from the new Batman on Halloween. And Jimmy came out as well.

One of the evangelists, Erin, also appeared and I had a good time talking to her on the street in front of Borders. She’s been up to the same stuff. I didn’t get a chance to offer her a booklet, but then again I’m never sure if any of the evangelists would want to read my things.

Jim also came out, he’s another one of the evangelists with the wheelchair of great age (I say in case anyone has forgotten him.)

The Centerpoint condos, which are essentially dead-in-the-water right now stood up behind us, blinking their eerie red lights at the sky. Driving down the freeway into Tempe proper they are the most prominent building in all of Tempe, standing in grim defiance to the single red light atop A Mountain. I still find their presence perturbing, and I know it’s going to get worse.

Met my friend Gonzo and his wife—both of whom are working on novels—and we got a chance to speak for a while. I haven’t seen him in literally years and now he’s bald (shaved) so I almost didn’t recognize him.

The rest of the Ave was fairly drab, although I did like visiting the Drum Circle and The Thirsty Dog (and proffered booklets there, although, Omni did suggest that I was being unfair, giving semi-bored clerks something to pass the time.)

The Street Preachers

I am going to start up a column on the Better Than Faith website for a friend of mine in order to give a blow-by-blow of the experience of recording and witnessing the activity of the SFTS and the evangelists who come out to Mill as part of their “Mill Avenue Resistance” project. They have become a major spectacle and event on my Ave and as much as I’d like to give them more airtime they’ve been eating up a lot of my words over here and I’m sure a lot of my readers want my anthropological analysis of Mill itself and not just the hottest of the hotspots.

However, here are still some highlights from the spectacle that is the evangelists vs. the resistance.

The night started out a little chilly with a stern breeze from the south. The smell of dust and car exhaust mixed with anticipation and chuckling chatter. Among the evangelists there were concerns about setting up in front of Urban Outfitters because there is a busker with extremely powerful amplification there who often sets up before them and then drowns them out with wild, powerful riffs on his electric guitar. So they prepared themselves for a night in front of Borders.

The Resistance rolled in like a fleet of warships on the cusp of an oncoming storm. They struck with a force unseen before on the Ave with two giant speakers and a bullhorn on the field, numerous signs, and a roiling mass of supporters. (Not to mention Lizard Man, the god incarnate of the unwashed, also arrived yet again.) To say the least—the noise levels were off the charts and made it a little bit difficult to actually take notes of the event.

To add to the fray, two longtime rivals of the opposing sides also arrived: Todd and Jeremiah. Todd with his booming, clarion voice which needs no amplification and Jeremiah with his small but extremely clear amplified-speaker. They were perhaps the true highlight of the minor skirmish. Rachel, Todd’s girlfriend and primary artillery, did take the mike a few times and managed to deal blows of her own. And Rocco also took to the mike—but largely the night belonged to Todd as it commonly does.

Even a sleepy reader at this point will notice all of the “war” allegory that I’m using here, and there’s a reason for it. Primarily because while the Resistance don’t seem to view their debates with the preachers to be battles insomuch as loud disagreements, the language that the evangelists suggests that they do. Or worse, they seem to insinuate into their everyday lives the language of war.

I’ve noticed a tradition among the evangelists that they may not realize is coloring their take on the world. A deliberate addition of hostility to their message—I know they say, “What I’m saying is offensive,” and they’re only half right: what they’re saying isn’t just offensive, it’s designed to be an offense: as if an attack or assault on other people. The supposed “other.” This hostility is steeped in a lot of their behavior, their martyr complex, and the wholesale subversion of memes used by the SFTS and others and blatant transference of their own bad behavior onto the “other.”

The worst of this is how they refer to their Bibles as swords. Jeremiah took to his metal stand, grabbed his mike, and realized he lacked a Bible—so he calls out, “I am without my sword; could someone toss me one?” And sure enough a Bible is delivered to him. The concept of “spiritual warfare” is lovely enough as an allegory to rally confidence, but when it is delivered up as if us-against-them and the most important item of the mythology is being conflated with a weapon of war and murder? Surely it speaks to the beating heart of all the wannabe alpha males in their group but it alienates everyone else who does see them as a hostile, aggressive, and invading force delivering offensive language—and apparently want to be known to be dangerous.

To the evangelists: Think about this before thou really screw up.

Mill Avenue Vexations Hallowe'en

‘Tis our bless’d even and Samhain upon us—also, there’s the wonderful story of the Legend of Sleepy Phoenix by Kyt Dotson from Mill Avenue Vexations to read!

Written to play around with the strange annals of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow with a more modern bent, see away with horses and replace them with motorcycles. I think that it went down pretty well. Don’t forget to check it out if thou haven’t read it before, and if you have drop in and leave a note on Vexations that thou came by!

We’ll be out on the Ave tonight, so there might be a Mill Avenue Nights to post tonight about how that entire escapade goes. It’ll be interesting to see what type of world this all brings.

Concost has been going on for a day now, I’m hallucinating slightly—but it’s mostly white semi-opaque figures that started in my peripheral vision, but have crept into the center of my gaze time to time. I see them walking in the halls, sitting at tables as if drinking coffee, but never up close. I suppose if there’s any day that I’m going to actually see the dead, it’s going to be today.

I have some friends that I need to catch up with. Although, I have a strange feeling that I’m going to see the Morrigan this time around as well; her portents have been in the air, and in my A&W root beer. Like the first time I drank the ergot tea, the carbonated fizzle whispering eldritch nothings as it gabs idly with itself.

Ah, the secret life of root beer.

Mill Avenue Nights – Saturday October 25, 2008

It starts on Friday.

On the feathers of a bird—or more like an Airbus A320—I returned to the Phoenix genus loci with a wing and a prayer. Doped up on numerous painkillers to handle my myriad pains from the flight I rested a while with Omnicynic and waited for the day to unfurl around us. The sights and smells of my old home city kept me company while rubber muttered sweet nothings to asphalt and Omni laid out the events of the summer that I had missed.

There are no deep secrets to Phoenix. She’s a creature of geometries of glass and steel, blacktop and desert; just barely a juvenile as it comes to cities, leaning, gawky and tall in her teenager rawboned, all elbows and knees—clumsy on her feet, flirting with everyone and never quite going home. That’s her skyline, filled with jagged blue and hopeful horizons; clothed in the forgetting perfume of mesquite, dust, and the halitosis of exhaust fumes.

In spite of myself I feel almost as if I’m home, but everywhere is my home.

“If home is where your heart is then your real home is in your chest!” Captain Hammer.

Omni and I hit the Ave briefly to see the various sights and possible people, but there wasn’t much to it so early in the day. Just the trickling remnants of the crowd filtering from ASU classes and preparing for the nightlife after their day’s work. But, it is the Ave, and I enjoy all of her states—even her quiet slumber.

Saturday rolled around to deliver unto me my first experience of Mill for the winter.

Drum Circle

Like a ragged army we still descent around the dusty feet of our bronze lord, the statue of Mitchell that cuts a flat figure over the drum circle and her inhabitants. I saw a few familiar faces scattered in the crowd, but few that I speak to on a regular basis. It may take me some time to find the usuals teeming up between the newcomers, like sentimental ghosts visiting their old haunts.

After exile (the exodus that happens at midnight from the drum circle’s proper spot to out in front of the post office) I discovered a few people to speak with who remember me from the old days of Rocky Horror Picture Show. I smiled in amazement as an old timer regaled me with his memories of how the Ave’s drum circle Saturday

Cindy and Corky

She is an extremely lovely elderly lady with a proud carriage and narrow-eyed comportment. For the most part I liked her hat and her conversation—which I quickly learned she was a mathematician who works at ASU. Reminds me with some interest of my friend Rapunzel’s mother to whom I ascribe mathematical genius as well. I think I like the fact that we have such an erudite woman keeping up on the Ave.

Kazz tells me that she and her partner, Corky, are regulars with the preacher’s now. I will have to find a way to split some extra time away to accompany them in conversation and interviews sometime.

Talking to Cindy led me into some thoughts about how I could use Vex’s voice at Mill Avenue Vexations to provide some constructive observations to the growth and changes that are happening on the Ave. We have too many people in the city and the merchants guilds going in obviously bad directions. For the most part it’s easy to tell that they’re vastly ignorant of how the street works on a demographic and social level; but as much as I want to blame them, if I don’t offer the tools of understanding I doubt they will harvest them themselves.

See the first segment of Mill Avenue the Beautiful here.

Corky appears to be a writer and ad editor. I am not sure what he’s written yet, but he wears a bearded and bespectacled professor-face and also looks like an excellent element to the culture of the Ave.

The Preachers

With the advent of the ASU Secular Society stepping up their immune response to the preachers on Mill Avenue, so has increased the presence of the preachers. I haven’t studied fully their changes in tactics but here’s a run down of my observations.

There were at least twenty-five people in total making up the full group of the Way of the Master crew. This doesn’t count children under the age of 13, of whom I believe there were at least three—I did have a brief chance to meet one of them, but we didn’t really speak. Being on too many opiates makes me a bad conversation partner.

They have broken themselves into independent groups across three different corners. The more traditional spot in front of Urban Outfitter is still defended as proper, but they also put a microphone and speaker immediately across the street (manned by Al) and they’re also persistent in front of Borders now (where the larger crowd of them gathered.)

The ASU Secular Society appear to have fielded about eight people between Kazz, Sam, Jordan, Brian, Rocco, and several others. They have brought with them further signs, petitions, handouts, and even their own speaker on a tripod from which rebuttals are spoken directly to the emanations of the preachers on their own microphone. Static bursts of sharp cadence to break up the rhythm of the preachers as they try to get going, only to have their rails kicked out from under them.

In front of Urban Outfitters I listened briefly to a woman trying to do the Good Person Test (a dishonest bait-and-switch heartstrings used-car-salesman pitch to religion) but it didn’t last and eventually she dissolved into arguing with the rampant drunks who decided to surround and confront her speech. Drunk people are certainly a hazard of the Ave, but I definitely do not wish them on anyone. She finished up her spiel with some commentary on the Titanic, but nothing that I really caught onto. Shortly after I came to listen they packed up and moved elsewhere.

To Borders.

At Borders the time had reached about 10pm—it was only at about 9pm that I’d arrived on the Ave, having come down late—and they spoke for less than ten minutes and said nothing of much import or affect. A soon as the ASU Secular Society had their speaker and microphone set up it seemed like the preachers were once again breaking down to leave.

I did have a chance to see some of the preachers that I knew as well while I took my notes. Edwin I stopped and cheered on about his usual way, wishing him luck—he doesn’t believe in luck, only the Lord, I’d forgotten his wit.

However, Saturday was interesting for those that I didn’t see: neither Richard, nor David, nor Jeremiah seemed present. Their absence did spur me into inquiring as to their health, and perhaps I shall see them the upcoming weekend. Hallowse’en is going to certainly bring out as many people who want to speak about it as shall come.

In spite of being a wholly commercialized holiday people still like to hearken back to its pagan origins and paint it with all of its strange plumage however misunderstood. It should be fun with my hopeful words and smile telling people that it’s my people’s holiday and we’d like it back.

Incident Last Month on Mill Ave

I was just stumbling around Technorati when I came across a blog post about a horrible incident on Mill Ave on July 26th, 2008 about 2a.m. This blog post by Alex Berger outlines some extremely bad acts by Tempe police, particularly mounted, against bar close rush crowds.

The entire idea that mounted police would assault half-drunk, terrified people with pepper spray and drive them through the street at any time (let alone 2a.m.) is reprehensible. And, frankly, disgusts me.

I am interested to know if anyone else witnessed this or if they know about newspaper articles that I'm missing out on. I would like more journalistic (citizen and otherwise) so that I can add this to my Mill Ave anthropology scrapbook.

Link to the post here.

And -- on a lighter note, I've subscribed to this blog's RSS because he did a thesis on virtual worlds and that's something that I'm also into.