Our Civic Religion

 Still hot as Hell in Philadelphia this Labor Day Weekend, but welcome to "The Gods Are Bored" anyway! Here -- have an iced tea. You can sit right next to the fan, unless some bored deity drops in.

Speaking of deities, I'm freshly back from Philadelphia Pagan Pride Day, and what a great day it was! No protesters, just lots and lots of fun people in Clark Park, both inside and outside the event.

(Aside: The Proud Boys called Clark Park the "Belly of the Beast." If it truly is the Belly of the Beast, then I want to be a heaping hot plate of Beast food!)

The nice thing about living in a big city like Philadelphia is that we always get some first-class keynote speakers at PPPD. This year it was Diana Paxson, novelist and Heathen. And her talk really made me take a cold, hard look at the Independent Republic of Johnsonia.

In a nutshell, Diana Paxson feels that Pagans should not cede the American experiment to the Christian nationalists but should instead fight for the nation's civic religion. Then she explained what that civic religion is.

If you think about it, it's so obvious. America, being a pluralistic nation, has created a whole religion independent of any sect or creed. We have founding documents and iconic figures ("mighty ancestors"). We have holy days, and a Pledge of Allegiance that sounds a whole lot like an oath. We have hymns. And a flag that flies in both blue states and red states. Not only that, we have Lady Liberty out in New York Harbor, and the Goddess Columbia (I've interviewed her here before) whose statue graces the very pinnacle of the Capitol building.

Rather than rejecting this civil religion, Diana Paxson suggests we embrace it, because it has dope rituals and is predicated on everyone being equal, which let's face it, most religions aren't.

Well, this fine lady already had me swayed pretty firmly, and then she sealed the deal. She told everyone to put off shopping for bargains on Labor Day and instead celebrate the workers, because Labor Day is a holy day! And boy, did I swell with self-righteousness, because I was already planning to do just that!

Ms. Paxson then led a ritual that touched on the same themes and included Lady Liberty as the deity of moment. And she again mentioned Labor Day as a time to honor all the workers, past and present, that have moved this country forward.

Gosh, I wanted to bake her a pie.

Now I'm feeling as if the ol' US of A actually needs me. I would call the government of Johnsonia into session with the prospect of dissolving the union, but I can't wrangle a quorum of squirrels in this heat.

Happy Labor Day, America!

What Did I Just See?

 For those of you just joining in the fun here at "The Gods Are Bored," you should know that I am a dyed-in-the-wool supporter of organized labor. I want to be buried with my union card in my cold, dead hand. United we bargain, divided we beg. Therefore it was with great happiness and anticipation that I got up this morning and headed into Philadelphia for the AFL-CIO Unity Summit.

Every four years the AFL-CIO has a whopper of a convention, and I guess it's just about like any other convention, with lots of people cheering and saying all the right things. This year's convention is in Philadelphia, which is a neat 20 minute train ride from my door. Joy!

Except the convention starts on Sunday, and the Unity Summit was on Saturday.

If the date wasn't tip-off enough, the invitation I got to this Unity Summit was just another email to my inbox with a link to register. Just out of curiosity (to see how much it cost to attend), I filled out the registration. Turns out it was free, with lunch provided. 

Better yet, there was a whole day of speakers scheduled for the Unity Summit, and there was a breakout seminar called "Next Gen Organizing" having to do with bringing more young people into the labor movement.

To say I had high expectations for this bash was an understatement. Philadelphia is a union city. Our Labor Day parade is impressive. My first thought was how long I might have to stand in line before I could get my registration badge.

The first tip-off that my expectations were about to be shattered was how long it took me to get my registration badge. I walked right up.

The festivities were scheduled for a ballroom on the top floor of the Convention Center. And the last time I was in that space was at Netroots Nation in 2019. Elizabeth Warren was one of the speakers that day, and the freaking Fire Marshal was at the door because of the crowd.

Today the Fire Marshal must have been home with his feet propped up, drinking his coffee and placing a few online wagers. When I say that ballroom was sparsely populated, I mean it was embarrassingly empty, considering the heft of the AFL-CIO.

To make matters more depressing, the speakers were outstanding. They all had rousing messages about battling voter suppression and systemic racism, and one or two of them mentioned in passing that Amazon and Starbucks workers were organizing here and there ...

Wait. What?

Over the past six months, about the only good news was that workers had successfully organized an Amazon warehouse and numerous local Starbucks stores. To me this is huge. It's the future of the labor movement, and the AFL-CIO should be all over it. In fact, I expected "Next Gen Organizing" to feature some of these brave people from Amazon and Starbucks. Nope.

So there I sat in a dark, cavernous ballroom, watching enthusiastic speakers dish out heaping helpings of platitudes to empty tables.

Worst part was that the "Next Gen" segment featured people who were indeed young, but they were also children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren of union members who happened to go into the organizing business. Which is what it seemed like - a business.

All of this I can forgive, because solidarity. But you know what is unforgivable? There was no swag. Dang! What's a convention without swag?

(Well, I think some people got some swag, but all I got was an N95 mask I had to put on right away, and two Covid testing kits as I left.)

The whole thing reminded me of how the administration in my school district celebrates National Teacher Week by giving each of us a bag with some random penny candy and a mini bottle of water.

Either go big or go home, that's my motto. The AFL-CIO could have thrown a gigantic party today at the Philadelphia Convention Center if they had just invited everyone who marches on Labor Day to come in their union t-shirts, gather in some swag, and have a nice lunch. The ballroom would at least have been populated. As it was, any oligarch who might have wandered into the Unity Summit could quickly conclude that the halcyon days of organized labor are over and done.

Don't get me wrong. The convention only gears up on Sunday, and rumor has it the president might drop in before it's over. So I'm sure that all the union muckity mucks from all over America will be descending.

But not the most important muckity mucks. Not the brave people stepping out of line at their workplaces to form bargaining units. Not the soldiers. Just the generals.

Oh well. The day wasn't completely lost. On my way back to the train I went through Reading Terminal Market and snagged a Beiler's doughnut.

Now I'm back in my lounge chair, having learned nothing about how to help those Starbucks baristas get unions in their shops.

In solidarity,

Anne Johnson

Labor Day 2021

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm Anne Johnson, a school teacher in the Time of COVID-19. If you can do this job, under these circumstances, without resort to magic, you are a better person than me.

But La Di Dah! I got two shots, and I've got a copper bracelet, and I have hung vulture feathers at my front door! COVID can't touch me!

Well, okay, it can. I just hope that when it does, it flicks me lightly, rather than walloping me with a blunt instrument.

Never mind that. Last Monday was Labor Day! And you know what that means, right? Philadelphia's annual Communist, Socialist, Godless, Corrupt and Overpaid Union Get-Together!

Just kidding with all those adjectives. Big Business wants people to hate unions so that the businessmen can go on being rich on the backs of their workers. And that would be a nope. Public sentiment for unions is actually improving. Hooray!

So, without further sermon, here are some photos I snapped at the AFL-CIO Labor Day Parade in Philadelphia on September 6. Here is the float that got things started.

You see that blue sky? The weather was gorgeous. 

Here is a card-carrying Socialist in the crowd.

The red shirt is a coincidence, because the Philadelphia Federation of Teachers (plus that one pesky blogger from New Jersey) also wear red.

My shirt says #redfored, which is our teacher motto.

Every year the union puts up a big banner at Penn's Landing.

And then all the various unions -- identified by their shirts, enjoy the use of Penn's Landing (with free burgers and fries) for four hours. I think these are Boilermakers.

Every union has its own matching t-shirts, often with meaningful slogans on the back.

Here's the Communications Workers of America. That's the union Mr. J belonged to.

This year the AFL-CIO gave out beach towels.  That's what the dude is holding.

And you will never guess who I ran into there. The Monkey Man! He rode to the parade on his bike, with Monkey in tow, and we enjoyed a nice chat by the Delaware River. It's always good to see him!

The sunlight made it hard to get a good shot, but you get the picture.

It was great to get out into the sun with my union brothers and sisters. Needless to say this didn't happen last year. But we're back!

And guess what else is back? The Mummers Parade! In some form. I put down a deposit on a dress.

Labor Day 2020

 Dear Pandemic Diary,

Today is Labor Day, and on every other Labor Day since 2008 I have marched in the Philadelphia AFL-CIO Labor Day parade. One year I made the march (about a mile and a half) one week before a total hip replacement. That's where I got this bag.

Last year it was hot as ever loving fuck. I think I got a touch of heat stroke. But even that was better than sitting on my front porch doing yet another virtual holiday on the computer. One can only click the heart button so many times, you know?

And speaking of virtual, my new life as a virtual school teacher begins on Tuesday. I had all last week to prepare ... except not really, because the district scheduled 3 hours of meetings a day, and on Friday they had a 90 minute meeting about taking attendance. Therefore I did not get the kinks ironed out of the dodgy technology they gave me to use. It worked on Thursday, but not on Friday. So I'm not going to trust it on Tuesday.

The district offered us the opportunity to come in on Labor Day to prepare. To which I say

I. Will. Never. Work. On. Labor. Day.

United we bargain, divided we beg.

Gob-Smacked by the 21st Century Again!

Hello, hello, and welcome to another installation of "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm Anne Johnson, hardy volunteer at Netroots Nation! Wow, did I bust my chops today!

EXHIBIT A: SELF AT NETROOTS NATION, WITH BOXES OF T-SHIRTS

Netroots Nation is a convention that pretty much gathers every sort of progressive group, from labor unions to First Nations protesters, Daily Kos, ActBlue, plus old standbys like the ACLU and the Society for the Separation of Church and State. On Saturday a few presidential candidates will drop in as well.

My volunteer shift, right at the opening of the convention, consisted of doling out swag bags and free t-shirts. I was part of a team of six volunteers doing this, and we all rose to the challenge.

Do you remember that "I Love Lucy" episode where the candies are coming down the conveyor belt and Lucy and Ethel have to wrap them up? It wasn't quite that intense, but readers, I flew around that swag table like a dervish for three hours straight! There were all kinds of steps for each person and each bag, from making note that they had received the bag, to stuffing it with a few pieces of swag that arrived late, and then getting the right sized t-shirt for the person. Plus, do you know me? How enthusiastic will I be to greet people who hate fossil fuels, love LGBTQ rights, believe in unions, and -- needless to say -- detest Donald Trump? I was all smiles and good cheer!

I've lived near Philadelphia for more than 30 years, and I've spent lots of time at the Convention Center. I know full well that the place never has enough water and snacks available. Today was no different. The bottle of water I brought was gone in the first 90 minutes of my 3-hour shift. And although many attendees wanted to refill it for me, none of them knew where to go to do it. It was okay, though. I made it through those hectic 3.75 hours and crawled panting to the water fountain ... and in a little while I felt fine again.

In the afternoon I attended the Labor Caucus, and it was good old-time union organizing and notes-comparing. Everyone was upbeat despite our current political climate. There were lots of unions represented too. Always a good time when a teacher can rub elbows with a Teamster. It was also interesting to hear about innovative ways that unions are gaining membership. There was no particular speaker, we just talked to the people at our tables and then sent up a brave soul to report out what we'd said that was important. No PowerPoint, no blah blah blah. Then we all gathered in the front of the room for a photo. Oh yeah, and they had snacks and lemonade too! Union, yes!

And then the 21st century came rushing up to club me like some kind of embittered cave man. Oddly enough, this happened at the kickoff for Elizabeth Warren's campaign in Philadelphia.

I've always loved Elizabeth Warren, and in the last year or two she's grown on me more. I started a monthly donation to her campaign awhile back, and she actually called me to thank me. So It was with great excitement that I attended the kickoff, and it was made even better because my daughter The Fair joined me there.

The Warren bash was extremely well-attended. The rented room filled up fast, the organizers put out all the extra seats that were available, and it was still standing-room. As is often the case at such grassroots things, the attendees were mostly (but not all) people of a certain age.

The nice young volunteers stepped up and -- of course -- thanked us for coming. Then they told us they were going to roll out something brand new and really special that they hadn't revealed before at any other event! Wowsa, what could it be? A Skype with Liz?

Turns out the really special thing was an app designed to gather voter data for the Warren campaign.

The Fair's phone was almost out of juice, so she downloaded the thing on my phone. I tried to follow the PowerPoint, but as is ALWAYS the case with me, the presenter flew through all the great things the app could do, and she lost me at the first slide. Haven't I written about this before? I'm a fucking fossil. If it's a new computer program, I just. Don't. Get. It.

My daughter The Fair is not a fossil. She's a sweet flower. As the event wound to a close (with more than a quarter of the attendees leaving early in a thunderstorm), she turned to me and said, "I can sure see how this app will help with organizing, but this is not what I expected this evening to be."

That made me feel a little better.

Elizabeth has a plan for everything, and her campaign will be whiz-bang on the smartphones. (It already is. I get texts all the time.) But on this flash-flood evening, a large number of older liberals were left shaking their heads as they sneaked out into the rain.

Well, what are you gonna do, after all? You can't call people on the phone and expect to speak to them. Heck, Elizabeth Warren called me, and I let it go to voicemail since it said "Unknown Caller!" It's even worse to knock on a door. When was the last time you answered the door to a stranger? So it makes abundant sense to be able to text people and be in touch with them nearer to election day. I just can't do it myself. I'll put my money in the collection plate and feel like a good church lady.

When I went to the elevated train this morning to ride into Philadelphia, I got down on the platform, and every single person was looking at their phone. Every last person. It was so unnerving that I began reciting Walt Whitman poetry. No one noticed anyway, so why not?

People don't own smartphones. Smartphones own people. It only stands to reason that this is the single best way for a geeky candidate to mobilize her base. But I don't like it.

You know what sucks about being a Baby Boomer? Knowing that your best century is behind you.

I'm returning to Netroots Nation Friday and Saturday. Elizabeth Warren will be there on Saturday. Perhaps she'll pat my hand and say, "There there, you can just donate. You don't need to use the app."

Missing the days when phones were attached to walls I remain,

Your reporter from the front lines,
Anne Johnson

I'm Going to Netroots Nation 2019

A couple of weeks ago, I got an invitation to an AFL-CIO caucus meeting at a thing called Netroots Nation. I suppose the AFL-CIO's algorithm recognized me as an active member who lives in the Delaware Valley.

I had sort of heard of Netroots Nation. It has something to do with online political organizing. But that's pretty much all I knew.

I expressed some interest, but upon investigation, I discovered that Netroots Nation 2019 is a humongous convention with a big price tag. But you know what? Being a volunteer at fairy festivals has taught me something: If you volunteer, you get a discount or a free admission.

I signed up for two volunteer shifts and got a discount. Then I sent in my RSVP for the AFL-CIO caucus meeting.

Readers, I'm going to a political convention. It begins on Thursday (I'm doing first morning shift doling out swag bags and selling t-shirts) and runs until Saturday (I'm doing first shift registering people to vote). The Labor caucus is on Friday.

Already, this opportunity has stretched my horizons. Without the help of my daughter The Fair, I downloaded the Netroots Nation app to my smart phone. This could be a game-changer.

It's been hard for me to find things to write about in these dark days, but I'm feeling confident that this convention will dole out some moments of interest. At the very least I can feel with confidence that the Philadelphia Convention Center will be chock-a-block with people who think the way I do. That's always a comfort.

So yours truly will keep you informed and up-to-date on the events that will transpire at Netroots Nation!

I ordered a new Gritty pin for the occasion. It's what the well-dressed Philly progressive is wearing!

Smoke Screens

In my favorite movie, Matewan, by John Sayles, striking miners confront union organizer Joe Kinnehan about being a conscientious objector during World War I. The miners can't understand why Joe, an able-bodied man, would rather be in jail than fighting for his country.

Joe had an easy answer: "It was just workers murdering workers."

In these days of technology and unbridled ownership, it's oh-so-easy to pit workers against workers.

Mind you, I am absolutely appalled by these draconian abortion laws being passed by state legislatures. And I am sure the lawmakers are looking with hopeful eyes to the Supreme Court to remove a woman's right to the autonomy of her own body.

But that's not why those conservative justices are sitting there. Sure, they may overturn Roe. But abortion is a "worker vs. worker" issue.

The Supreme Court was carefully constituted by men who serve the needs of the wealthiest members of the global elite. While the spotlight is on abortion, this court has ruled against class action lawsuits and has overturned a decision that required people who were receiving the benefits of a union to pay a fair share fee for those benefits. This is the court that gave us Citizens United. Remember, the Constitution was written by wealthy aristocrats, so it's not a particularly difficult reach for "originalists" to look out for the interests of the few at the expense of the many.

The people in the highest levels of our government are doing the bidding of the moneyed elites. Abortion is a smokescreen issue that allows Congress and the courts (and, needless to say, the president) to undermine our democracy and make us all weaker, poorer, and powerless.

If I have to open my home to out-of-state women seeking health care in my state, I will do it, because it's worker helping worker. But that won't make me feel any more capable of shaping the laws of this land in a way that favors working people.

Oh, and by the way. The moneyed elite don't care about climate change, either. It won't affect them, except to undermine their profit margins if people begin to care about it.

Worker! Stop fighting other workers! Fight the owners. Forget the unborn, let's make this nation safe, equitable, and fair for everyone.

Determined To Outlive Them

I've been following the Supreme Court and its decisions closely for years. This year, back in June, the court decided (5-4) to end a 40-year-old precedent of "fair share" dues to public sector unions.

It was a decision that undermines the power of labor unions, who traditionally vote Democratic. And for those of you who think that Roe v. Wade is "settled law?" So was the decision the court overturned on unions!

The Orange Menace, a failed real estate salesman, libertine, and egomaniac, has now seated two men onto the Supreme Court. When I contemplated the Menace's victory, this was not even a worst-case scenario that I imagined. It is, in short, worse than my most bitter imaginings.

Every news outlet agrees that this loathsome appointment will influence the direction of America for 30 years or more.

And so, I, Anne Johnson say ... I'm determined to live 30 more years and vote in every goddamned election between now and then. My daughters know my politics, so if I go demented, I will instruct them how to cast my ballot.

When I went to the Women's March on Washington in 2017, I got caught in a huge crowd. Standing next to me was the most elderly female I have ever seen who wasn't in a wheelchair. She was dressed to the nines, and to get to that place she had to have walked blocks and blocks.

That is going to be me. If need be. Until then, I ride.

Labor Day 2018

If you  know me at all, you know that I am passionate about unions. I wish there was a bored god of unionized labor forces -- I would make that deity dinner every night of the week, and pie on weekends! What this world really needs is a God or Goddess of Collective Bargaining.

It has been 10 years since I marched in the Philadelphia Labor Day Parade. I wasn't even sure they had it anymore. I kept Googling it, and I never saw any plans for this year. Then last week, about mid-week, I got an email from the AFL-CIO, asking me to march in a parade near me! Well, gee whiz. You don't even have to ask! Let me lace up my sneakers!

I sent my RSVP to Philadelphia and showed up this morning at the Sheet Metal Workers hall on Columbus Boulevard, wearing a gray "NJEA Proud" t-shirt I got last spring. Of course I was the only member of NJEA at the march, but there was a nice contingent of Philadelphia Federation of Teachers, so I marched with them.

It's 94 degrees outside today.

Remember when the Orange Menace got elected, and we had that great big Women's March on Washington? I went to that. It's just my personal emotional need to be gathered with like-minded individuals in large numbers. And that is why I braved incredibly hot conditions to be with Philadelphia's union membership.

The Philadelphia Labor Day parade is a moving spectacle. Each local has its membership decked out in matching t-shirts in vivid hues, with pro-labor slogans on front and back. It's easy to find your group, even thought there's more than a thousand people there. The unions march off with their banners ... and it's a long walk, about two miles, to Penn's Landing.

Before the march begins, a bunch of politicians give speeches about the importance of organized labor. This year we had Pennsylvania's governor, Philadelphia's mayor, the president of the American Federation of Teachers, a brace of Congressmen, and some organizers reporting on progress toward unionizing the big Marriott that's opening in Center City. Everyone was Union Proud, Union Strong! The governor said he would veto any anti-union legislation that reached his desk. (What was he going to say to a throng of union members in Philly? But I believe him.)

Here's a new theme, found on banners and t-shirts alike:

Considering that the Heir has two jobs and the Fair has three, I would say this sums up how to make America great again.

I didn't take many photos, since I didn't know anyone. But I did like the hopeful message on this t-shirt:

If there was any sentiment among organized labor that the Orange Menace was out to help unions, that has evaporated like a puddle on a hot summer afternoon. The Menace was roundly booed, and the odious Janus decision by the Supreme Court was not only booed, it was mocked on many a t-shirt.

 I do know that organized labor is the dinosaur, and the ownership class is the asteroid. But it's nice to think, just for one hot, end-of-the-summer day brought to you, like the weekend, by organized labor, that there might be a place for collective bargaining still in this country. Pipe dream, yes. But let me sleep just a few more hours.

United we bargain, divided we beg.

Union, Yes!

We at "The Gods Are Bored," as well as Great Deities of Justice from multiple pantheons spanning millennia, congratulate the teachers' unions of West Virginia for reaching a deal on their contract demands!

EXHIBIT A: THIS IS WHAT SOLIDARITY LOOKS LIKE

Two weeks ago, if you had asked me about the future of organized labor -- as it faces certain disruption by a conservative Supreme Court -- I would have said, "Palliative care only, send to hospice."

And then ... in deep red West Virginia ... a "right to work" (for less) state ... the teachers just walked out. Fifty-five counties, all the teachers walked out.

EXHIBIT B: ANNE FEELS STRONGLY ABOUT THIS

Bring it on, corporate pig-dogs! We will taunt you mercilessly!

I'm not playing, here. I believe in unions. No system is perfect, but the practice of collective bargaining, so maligned in our modern times, is the only way to keep decent, living wages in the hands of hard-working people.

All glory, laud, and honor to the WVAFT, the WVEA, and their parent organizations! Guess what? The bargain the teachers brokered extends to all public employees in the Mountain State!

United we bargain, divided we beg.

Public School Teachers and Right To Work

Sounds like a boring topic, huh? I can see you stifling that yawn! But don't decamp for Dora the Explorer just yet, because you're in for an Anne rant. I'm rusty on ranting, but it came back today in full force.

You know what schools are? They are the spots that viruses of every kind choose for massive meet-ups. Every day, trillions of germs learn how to write paragraphs and reduce fractions. All while finding new hosts just sitting there waiting to fall ill!

This is one of the reasons why liberal states with strong unions provide decent health care to public school teachers. Mind you, I get a hefty chunk of change pulled from my envelope every pay period to partly cover my healthcare policy. But my policy is still generous. Thank you, thank you, thank you New Jersey Educational Association!

I say this because teachers in 28 states are laboring in "right to work" environments. "Right to work" (kind of like "right to life," huh?) has undercut collective bargaining rights and union clout, leading to lower salaries, and yes, higher insurance payments for teachers.

Teachers. Have you looked at a teacher's salary lately? Like, what we get paid to go sit all day among the frolicking viruses?

If you didn't see this story in the news, read it and WEEP.

Texas is a "right to work" state. But I'm not singling out Texas. This could happen in any "right to work" state.

First of all, I got a flu shot. It was free.

Second of all, if I did get the flu, my prescription of Tamiflu would cost $10.00, not $138. Therefore, I would be able to afford it. I wouldn't have to think twice.

Two children have been deprived of a mother. Probably two dozen second-graders must now deal with the trauma of having suddenly lost their teacher. (And which among those kids will feel guilty for maybe infecting her with the flu?) A loving husband has lost his wife.

Not because of the flu. No. Not because of the flu. This woman died because of RIGHT TO FUCKING WORK. I never heard of a teacher having to pay $138 for a prescription! That would NEVER happen in my state! I could be put on the most $$$$$$$$ medicine that is padding the pockets of the most venal Big Pharma executive, and my co-pay would be at most $20.

This nod to my performance of a difficult, tiring job in a germ-filled atmosphere is due to my union.

Right to work? Why don't we call it right to die?

Stay tuned for Supreme Court decisions that will bring right to die EVERYWHERE.

My heart goes out to this family, to the students and staff, and to all the public school teachers who have the misfortune of living in "right to work" states. Pay your dues, get your union card, and persuade all of your co-workers to do the same. This shit has got to stop.

Labor Day 2017

I blame myself.

In 1987, I left a full-time, full-benefits job because I moved out of the state where I was employed. Once the company ascertained that I could legally work for them as an independent contractor (some states did not allow this), I kept right on working for them. Without the benefits and on a per-piece basis.

I bought a computer and set aside part of my home for an office. For the next 20 years, I was self-employed. The company that got my work made a better profit on me than on its full-time workers ... so the company moved more and more work onto more and more independent contractors.

This was a bonanza for me for awhile. I had my husband's health insurance. I could make good money. I got to be home with my kids while they were growing up. I loved the work. I wrote four books plus chapters and sections of many others -- all fascinating stuff. The 1990s were prosperous for me.

Then the whole thing slid to Hell.

Competition ramped up for the contracts. The company forced me to incorporate as my own small business. Then I had to start coding my work (another pioneering effort -- I was coding before coding was cool). The fee structure plummeted.  Then another small corporation undercut my small corporation, and I lost all my contracts. That was 2005.

I had helped open the door to the idea that people will work without benefits. That companies could give work to "independent contractors" rather than hire a staff.

I was essentially an invisible scab.

The company that employed me in 1987 should have had a bargaining unit that would have insisted on rules against outside contractors. It didn't. And who was I? A new homeowner and mother-to-be who needed a part-time job. The macroeconomic implications of the work situation never occurred to me.

The cat is out of the bag. Why hire full time and get stuck with all that pesky paperwork and those expensive benefits, when you can get a few part-timers, work them just as hard, and expect them to care for their own health and retirement? Only some bleeding heart would want to see his profits gobbled by insurance payments and paid vacation days!

This scenario? It's coming soon to every line of work there is. Including public school teaching.

I know you won't believe me, but this used to be a humor blog.

It's All About Justice

The prayer that unites all Druids has lines about justice, the knowledge of justice, and the love of justice. How can a species be endowed with an understanding of justice and then just disregard it?

When a handful of families control more wealth than all the rest of the people on the planet, this is injustice. They can use any tool to divide the rest of us, to have us quarreling on any number of issues, to encourage us to form tribes based on birth, location, ideology. While we fight and die, they watch.

If our species engaged in egalitarianism, with level heads and warm hearts, we would soon set this planet right. We would have respect for animals, plants, the soil, the water, and our population growth. Employers would pay workers a living wage, and the bosses would live modestly themselves. Respect and camaraderie would rule, and justice would follow.

This cannot be achieved by coercion (it's been tried), which is why I despair for our species.

All the same, I will march for justice.  This is the sign I will carry to the Women's March on Washington.
                                                                           
The last resort for the few at the top is to abolish group efforts toward seeking living wages and respectful treatment. People living in fear can be controlled. The end game for the billionaires is control. They are truly supervillains.

So, while I feel that destruction of the environment is the most pressing issue facing the human race at this time, I am moved to speak for justice. For collective bargaining, a process that helps anyone within its gates -- Black, White, Muslim, Pagan, man, woman, child.

It's 5:00 and I've been awake two hours. I'm frankly scared about the march. But I will go anyway. This is my last post before I leave, so if you have an extra moment or two over the next few days, I beg you to watch this wonderful scene from the film "Matewan," by John Sayles. It perfectly articulates my philosophy, and it's why I'm carrying my union sign.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RSaBoDl_9k


Peace to you all,
Anne

Why I'm Marching #4: Cosplay Time!

You know what I love but have never been able to do? Cosplay.

I can't sew. My hair is thick and unruly. And -- probably the biggest reason I've never done cosplay -- I don't interact with anime. At all.

Nevertheless, I do have a screen character that I have idolized for most of my adult life. I have loved the actress and the role so much that the opportunity to attempt a cosplay of this character is too good to pass up.

I've been reading everything on the Internet about the Women's March on Washington, and don't ask me why, but the organizers really want us to bring signs.

I gave the sign a lot of thought, since I'm a teacher and I know my way around those punch-out alphabet letters you get for bulletin boards. What in the world could I put on my sign that would simply and totally express my deepest wishes for this nation?

And then it came to me. I will cosplay.

I've got my piece of white cardboard. I've got a black marker. This, this is my sign.

Now, to really cosplay this properly, I would need the sleeveless t-shirt, white high-rise jeans, orange ear buds, and whatever that is around her waist. But I do think the sign says it all for this character.

And for me, too.

Labor Day Laundry List

Hello and welcome to The Gods Are Bored, Labor Day 2015!

No one's just joining me now, so you all know how I feel about organized labor.

I can't say one more word on this topic without weeping. Unions have been all but busted. Our only hope is a candidate like Bernie Sanders. Slim hope indeed.

So ... will catch you up on the doings!

Item: I now have 8 chapters of my novel, Million Dollar View. And it appears that yet another agent has tossed the manuscript of Gray Magic into the dustbin. On November 1, 2015, I will put Gray Magic on here for free download. Just because various agents haven't liked it doesn't mean you won't. I'm not going to see all my wonderful characters, who walked with me through a large part of my life, just sit on the shelf like unwanted teddy bears. As for Million Dollar View, I've decided it needs more than the sleigh ride I'd been giving it. I can make it shine, it will just take a little longer than planned.

Item: On Saturday I facilitated my very first drum circle! Yes, I volunteered to do a drum circle at Philadelphia Pagan Pride Day, and by golly, they signed me up, and we had a nice group of seven people ... including two who could drum way better than me! (That was what I was hoping would happen.)

That's me in my mountain hat, far right on orange chair. Thanks for the photo, Cliff!

Item: I met The Heir's boyfriend. He's adorable. I'm happy for her! He had many questions for me about Paganism, since he grew up in a strict Christian household.

Item: Mr. J and I made four excursions to Gunnison Beach this summer. It is a clothing optional beach. It's a long drive, especially in traffic, but the payoff is swell.

Item: School started this past week. I have more than 60 students in three classes (block schedule), all freshmen. We are in the midst of a heat wave here in Philadelphia. My classroom was moved from an air-conditioned room to an older room. It was fully 90 degrees in the room every day last week. I cannot project sound from my computer so that anyone can hear it, even with the fans off. Anyone in the market for a challenging profession?

Item: There is a brand new Extra Chair. This one is male. He will be starting his sophomore year at the local parochial school. If he likes us, and we like him, this is three years of guaranteed monthly income. Withholding judgment on this right now.

Item: Spare is a Resident Assistant in a posh dorm! I trash picked a beautiful love seat for her apartment. She's still working on her web series ... a task more challenging than teaching in an urban school.

That's the news! Thanks for dropping by. Be sure to look here November 1 for Gray Magic, free to many good homes.

Annie's Quick Solution to the Labor Unrest in Wisconsin and Elsewhere

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where today we are going to offer you a modest proposal for an end to collective bargaining in the interest of balanced state budgets.


Almost every state in America is having problems with massive budget deficits. You see, in order to cover state budget deficits in the past, most of our fearless leaders everywhere either dipped into, or failed to fund, pension and benefit plans for state workers. Never mind how the money disappeared. It did, and the Republican solution is to crush the final vestiges of labor unions in order to restore budget stability and keep taxes reasonable. Public employees would be deprived of seniority, tenure, affordable health care, and the right to collective bargaining.

Teachers and other state workers in Wisconsin have converged on the state capital to protest.


I just read on the Huffington Post that the Tea Party is planning a counter-protest, also at Wisconsin's state capital, to be held on Saturday. They're bringing in Joe the Plumber and some presidential hopefuls. Their platform is that bloated government spending must be curbed, and the only way to curb it is to exact major concessions from government workers.

Well, for the love of fruit flies. Here's a simple solution to this dilemma.


The governor of Wisconsin should fire any state employee who has demonstrated or supported the demonstrations for collective bargaining. That dismissed person's job should go to a Tea Party regular. The Tea Party regular should be willing to work for whatever salary and benefits package the state can afford, with no job security and extremely high demands for improved productivity in the workplace. If a Tea Party regular wants to be a teacher, he or she would need to complete state-mandated training, to be done on the employee's own time and at the employee's own expense. While the salary and benefits and security go down, the expectations for student achievement and other state services will be higher than ever.


I mean, really. The lines are already long at Motor Vehicles. Those Tea Party replacements had better be more efficient for smaller paychecks! That's what they want, isn't it?


Oh wait. That's not what they want. They want less government.


Okay, new modest proposal. Fire all the teachers, replace with Tea Party regulars. Close Motor Vehicles completely. Anyone who can drive should be able to drive. Think of the bureaucracy that will reduce and the taxpayer money that will save! And think of all the happy teenagers who will just be able to crawl into the car and go, never having to pass a silly test!


Eliminate all environmental protection through state oversight. We don't need it. All companies have our best interests at heart and would never harm our land.

Last but not least, fire all policemen and firefighters, replace with people who are willing to work for reduced wages and benefits and no job security. I know I'll sleep more peacefully at night, thinking of all the tax dollars my governor has saved me.


Would someone please hand Joe the Plumber an oxygen mask and send him to the next five-alarm fire in a high-rise filled with senior citizens? And staff those ambulances with Tea Party regulars as well! Let's get America running by hiring real Americans, not these commie pinko union workers with their greedy paws in the taxpayer till!


In order to do my part to balance New Jersey's budget, I will now be paying you to take my free advice. Send me an invoice.

"Gods Are Bored" Iowa Endorsement

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored" on Iowa Caucus day! It's time for us to endorse a candidate! And ah, it's so difficult. So many fine morons from which to choose. So many wealthy and influential folks with big, fat war chests for commercials in which they sell themselves like breakfast cereals. How can we separate the wheat from the chaff?

Can't. So, with no further ado, we at "The Gods Are Bored" endorse Mike Huckabee as the next president of the United States of America.

Mike is the only candidate who exhibits the same low level brain activity as our current sitting president. If elected, he would certainly continue the ridiculously wasteful and ill-conceived war in Iraq. We might ambitiously expect that he would be braver than the current administration and just shove our nation's aggression into Iran.

Mike's domestic agenda is simple enough. White men own things, women stay barefoot and pregnant, and everybody must go to Christian church (preferably not one of those mushy churches like the Methodists, and certainly nothing as radical as the UUs). Dust off that Bible, because the government will be coming to your house to make sure you're reading it to your kids every night at dinnertime.

If you vote for Mike, which I hope you will, you'll also be saving yourself from melanoma. Because you'll want to stay out of the sunshine, so that no one will confuse you with those brown people who will be deported. You'll want your skin to be lily white. Except if you're black. But if you're black, you'll be okay if you go to church and work for the Man.

Mike Huckabee will rid this nation of all the nasty, mentally ill homosexuals who choose to live a dirty, unnatural lifestyle. Well, okay. If you're gay you can stay, as long as you choose to be celibate, or if you marry someone of the other gender and have a healthy, normal, Christian family. If you don't think this can be done, you don't listen to Focus on the Family.

Finally -- and vitally important to us at "The Gods Are Bored" -- Mike Huckabee will shut down these pesky labor unions once and for all. Just look how daintily he crossed a picket line to be on Jay Leno's show last night! Striking workers should be deported along with the brown people! Then America would get back all the jobs the Chinese are doing for 14 cents an hour, because Americans would be willing to work for 14 cents an hour.

Oh, and I almost forgot. As president, Mike Huckabee will pardon all convicted rapists. After all, these men are just doing the human race a favor, trying to create more little humans inside the bodies of the inferior gender.

Only a moron of epic magnitude could compare with George W. Bush. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are convinced that Mike Huckabee is that moron. So vote for him, because things in this country won't begin to change until times become so desperate that desperate measures will be taken. The French Revolution springs to mind.

Huckabee in '08. Stay the disastrous course!

In Which I Scab for the Soap Operas

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," America's best clearinghouse for absolute nonsense since 2005! We're glad you joined us today. And lucky for you there's a commercial break running, so we can update you on today's developments.

The Writers Guild of America is on strike. No new negotiations are scheduled. The biggest issue is how to compensate writers when material goes onto the Web or onto DVDs. Sort of like what's facing rock stars when their stuff is pirated from the Internet.

But, o ho! Lots of writers on picket lines! That means employment opportunities for unemployed writers -- like me!

By Friday your favorite soap opera will be showing re-runs because the soap writers have all walked. Luckily I am here to fill the gap (and take a scab check for my services).

Ooops! Commercial's over! Time to get back to General Hospital. Script by Anne.

(Laura is lying on her deathbed with her adoring Luke at her side. This is the 9th time Laura has died on GH, and like a cat she's not expected to return this time.)

Luke: Darling. Oh, darling. Speak to me!

Laura: I see the light. Actually, many many lights. Oh, it's faeries! They're coming to take me to Sidhe, to rest in the arms of the Goddess Queen Brighid the Bright!

Luke (taking her hand): Oh, my love. I so despaired over losing you until now. Just to know that you'll be cared for eternally by the loving and joyous deities and faeries of Sidhe brings me such comfort!

Laura: They tell me that you can join me some day, if you're willing to scrap your Ford Escalade and buy a nice sensible economy car.

Luke: Consider it done!

Laura: And make sure all the lights are off at your house when people leave rooms. Get some new, energy-efficient appliances. Oh! The faeries are telling me I'll be a little girl again! And I'll have wings!

Luke: So, you're really not coming back this time? Not even as an evil twin who was separated at birth and finally traced her biological parents?

Laura: Who would want to return to this fucked-up world when beckoned by the Gentry of Sidhe?

Luke: Are we allowed to say "fuck" on the air now?

Laura: New writer. Oh, Luke ... the light is getting brighter ...

Luke: Hey! That rhymes! I like this new writer.

Laura: The faeries are so beautiful. They are saying ... they are saying ...

Luke: Yes, my love?

Laura: They want you to march in protests against George W. Bush and Dick Cheney and all they stand for. They want you to support stem cell research and an end to government-imposed "morality." And Luke ...

Luke (stifling tears): Yes, Laura?

Laura: They want you to begin a brand new Druid grove right here in Port Richmond, so that we can build story lines all around how great it is to break free of dogma and embrace a deep universal spirituality that has a big, broad, flexible outlook!

(Laura emits one satisfied sigh and lists back onto her nicely-fluffed pillow. Luke weeps.)

Luke: I vow to live by the advice given me today by my own true love! Oh Great Goddess Queen Brighid the Bright, give me strength to build a whole new world on the ashes of the old!

COMMERCIAL BREAK -- SCRUBBING BUBBLES

So, what do you think of my script? I'll bet there's not one member of the Writers Guild who could do any better.

Now I've got to develop that "Luke the Druid" story line. Toodle-ooo!

FROM ANNE

THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS

Alice Doesn't Buy Here Anymore

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" At 7:22 p.m. on December 21, the sun officially crossed the equator. So sorry to all my fabulous readers Down Under, but the bored gods of the Northern Hemisphere are just tugging at that big star that warms our world! Bless them for doing it.

When does $68 million seem like chump change?

I'll tell you: It's when you've got $18 billion or so, earned dollar by stinking dollar from enslaving the world. Hello, Alice Walton. If the shoe fits, my dear, you've gotta wear it. Did the shoe in question come from Wal-Mart? Oh, I didn't think so! Only poor people shop there. Come to think of it, only poor people work there, too.

Just a few short weeks ago, the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital announced that it would sell its Philadelphia masterpiece oil painting, "The Gross Clinic," to Ms. Alice Walton for her new museum in Bentonville, Arkansas. "Jeff," as the hospital is locally known, gave the citizens of Philadelphia until December 26, 2006 to match the price. If all the Longshoremen and Carpenters and Teamsters out there -- and all the "Jeff" alumni, and all the art worshippers -- couldn't cobble together $68 mil, the painting was outta here, Adrian.

Philly has done it.

I was just driving home from a long day in the Ag shop at the Vocational Technical School, and I heard it on the radio. With pledges of all sizes, the citizens of Philadelphia (and presumably the art world) have acquired "The Gross Clinic" for the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Yo, that's the big building with the "Gotta Fly Now" steps.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" say once again that we deplore a world in which a single painting costs $68 million -- a sum, one imagines, that could build maybe a dozen hospitals in Congo. But if people are going to pony up ridiculous bucks for oil slathered on canvas, it sure makes my day that THE LOSER IS......

Alice Walton.

Hey, Alice. Go have tea with the Mad Hatter and then buy some art that reflects the way you've earned your living. To whit:

Wow, a lot of pictures in this one! It feels like a holiday.

FROM ANNE

THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS