Don't walk around outside

Indeed, what would we do without such advice from our preemptive meteorologist/journalists on T.V.?

Two hours after Brian Busby and his crew interrupted our social hour, the hail finally hit our Midtown, and even so it has mostly abated.

I heard Busby mention a half-apology for cancelling our show, despite having turned the T.V. way down, despite my friends' jeers, their faux-frantic cell-phone-grasping - "do you want me to call them?"

Be careful for what you wish for, they say. Darn them to FCC Hell. Less than a week ago, we made fun of the insignificant and misleading "three secrets will be answered" so-called plot of LOST, also pointing out the impossibility of how all the women are perfectly clean-shaven and all the men in a perpetual state of Miami Vice shadow.

Fast-forward to today, when "America's Top Model" hogged two hours of prime time during good weather, so by 9 p.m. when things start to turn soggy and dangerous with the coming of spring, right after a scene in which Charlie nicks his face shaving with an undoubtedly-old disposable razor, the weathergasam kicks in and we're stuck watching red trapezoids on a multi-colored map, grateful we aren't in Olathe, I suppose, but indignant as all Americans get when separated from Choice; we feel entitled to things we have merely grown used to do.

NOAH radios are programmable for your geographic location, and it's a sad fault of television broadcasting (broad, yes) that it blankets everyone around with forced awareness about something that may or may not affect them.

Busby said, "something something, T.V. is rebroadcastable, but we have a life-or-death situation on our hands."

I don't know, back when I was a kid, we didn't need much goading to be herded into the basement like the British in 1944; we had a mom who was paranoid about fire, and by association, lightning.

We always used to unplug the television, too. Black and white. In the days before surge protectors. At the moment, I am defying our modern concerns and typing on a plugged-in laptop. Note: it is a 486, I believe. (Uploaded afterwards - there's no viable modem left!)

And to think, I rushed home (to my friends' house near our apartment) from City Hall's "exciting" budget hearing, sloshing through deep streams of rain in the streets and braving the fruits of my stubbornness, my having refused to pay $3 an hour just to have a spot in a parking garage with neon art. At least the first half-hour is free, and I was able to spin around and get out.

Because you can't read the sign until you're in.

So, I'm tramping down 13th, perhaps, towards Grand, which, I read later, is closed to pedestrians.

It's odd that at 8:30 at night I'm not the only one out. You may recall my having skipped this hearing last year due to feeling eerily uncomfortable.

Tell me, what kind of man (young man, young black man) walks up to a whiter woman, young but older than he, and, half-communicating with rain-drowned statements (having said something to start it from nearly a half a block away, newspaper over his head, chasing me down half a block), asks, "Hey, how about you share that umbrella with me?"

Very sociable, indeed. Note: my umbrella is compact, not one of those giant affairs you can raise a family in.

So, you pretend to know that you know that it's not going to be a bad situation, despite what every statistical scenario you've read about and seen, and heard over the phone, through neighborhood newletters, crimewatches and e-mails, television shows, the rest. Not fear, but vague confusion, the kind brought about when there's no time to talk, no convenience to shelter conversation and no earthly normal reason to do so regardless.

I never heard his question, or rather, I did not answer it with any statement that rhymes with "no," yet he thought he got my reply, probably through my expression, or maybe because I was walking fast to begin with or that the absurdity of the ruse was too evident.

So, he called me "stingy," asked where I was going, and when I told him "to my car" (the truth, it's not supposed to be a smart thing to say, is it), he was on his way west down 13th and said, "well, next time I see you downtown, I'm going to say 'no.'"

It's not really a threat, is it?

He was smiling, kind-of, anyway. Still.

Last night, at the Thai restaurant on Walnut - the one with reverse happy hour and regular happy hour and cheap wings and dumplings and tempura and tofu things - there was a flock of male people whom I found annoying. The bartender kept referring to me as "babe," and the guy three stools down started in. (I sat far away on purpose, and I didn't engage anyone other than to give my order to the guy behind the bar.)

I try so hard to keep it general, to say about the chicken wings, "yeah, those are good, we come here all the time," so that, he got it, he asked who the "we" was, and I said "my husband, my friends, etc."

They only seem to stumble on that for a second.

He offered me some of his chicken wings, which, I guess were overwhelmingly presented for four bucks.

No, why do you have to ask twice? Same with the server, he asked me twice whether I wanted something to drink.

When the woman used to be at the bar, she would ask once and then bring me just water anyway. He, on the other hand, just kept offering the water as a second choice. I did not giggle or demure or anything. Why this urge to get the cute girl drunk?

Is this what you're thinking: Wah, wah, it sucks to be hit on, I hate it so much, etc. "You must be doing something to attract this attention. And why are you being as racially-minded as all the voters who either picked Brooks or Funkhouser?"

Whatever. I wear goofy clothes, unsexy shoes, have hair that's styled about 120 years too late, lack both make-up and exercised features. How does a normal smile, even if spontaneously-honest and without any backstory or insinuation, go so far as to "encourage" anyone. Note, I didn't smile at the Rainman.

Speaking of encouraging events, the budget hearing was just one advocate after another getting up to speak for increased neighborhood funding.

Several kids from the Kansas City Youth something spoke on behalf of a budget line for ACT and SAT preparation classes for four of our school districts. (Whether this item is currently in or out, I'm not sure; the document is dreadful to read, and people's ability to summarize their positions or start out with facts is often lacking.)

See, no need for any of those mayoral candidates to talk about fixing the schools; the money is already a line-item (or twinkle in someone's - Wayne Cauthen's - eye). While it makes me ill that the schools themselves do not have time to teach kids how to take these make-it or break-it tests, I guess I can't be sad about my other tax money going to catch these kids falling through the proverbial gap.

I guess.

The others who testified talked about the conditions of our neighborhoods - housing as infrastructure was a basic concern.
Again, what they talked about were exactly the ideas the council (especially the neighborhood committee) has been talking about for months. Well, okay, the finance committee heard the majority of the testimony earlier about the landlord licensing ordinance. The one that Saundra McFadden-Weaver sponsored and Mayor Kay Barnes struck down. It's not a bad thing to have this new housing administrator position, but sheesh, what took them so long to think of it?

The neighborhood people, 20 representing ACORN, asked for harsher penalties for landlords who refuse to maintain their property. They want swift, efficient action on complaints, for the city to be able to impose not only liens but receiverships, etc. Someone mentioned the bill currently in the Missouri Senate that would authorize just those kind of measures.

Those same measures came up over five years ago, though, when Iris Archer was head of Neighborhood Preservation, before Wayne Cauthen's early retirement buyouts. And then people had to go and get up to speed, and people were busy courting downtown development and condo after condo after condo, and nothing happened. Nothing but cuts on the neighborhood services - less tree trimming, less dangerous buildings demolitions, less enforcement of existing laws.

Good news, tonight Cauthen alluded to shifting work-shifts so that we can have animal health and public safety workers after five and on the weekends. What a concept. I wonder if he's doing the same with health inspectors and others. Budget Director Troy Schulte, in response to a question from Councilwoman (and still in the race, I'll be darned) Saundra McFadden-Weaver, said that as of two weeks ago, nearly all the additional neighborhood preservation inspectors had actually been hired. Five new ones and eight vacancies.

Others spotted included the rest of the finance committee, of course, Alvin Brooks, about whom Councilman (termed out) Troy Nash deliberately made a slip-up, calling him "mayor" instead of "mayor pro tem," which is what he is. It's funny, since Nash's assistant was working for the Janice Ellis campaign.

Completing the committee, Councilman Terry Riley (also close to incumbency) and Chuck Eddy, the chair and one of those who fared the worst in yesterday's election, were up there spouting comments to commenters. Outside the committee, besides Nash and McFadden-Weaver were Deb Hermann, Bill Skaggs, George Blackwood and a dejected-looking Jim Glover.

There were a number of non-electeds there tonight, including clear-speaking Ezekiel Amador, who spoke about the value of Community Action Network (CAN) centers (receiving a slight raise this year) and who made me wish he hadn't been knocked out of the race - he has such an admirably-clear and articulate manner.

Where has public speaking gone? You can hardly understand Brooks - I'm sorry, but he mumbles and squeaks and mashes up clauses into impossible combinations as far as transcription is concerned. Funkhouser is a bit difficult to understand, too. Talks too low and swallows words, though what he says makes clear sense. He didn't speak unclearly when presenting audits, as far as I remember; I didn't see him there for the hearing. Glover likewise is difficult to listen to, as we all know. Nash talks fast for some reason and quietly, and Riley, while louder, spins around phrases in a whiney way that makes me want to be angry. Barnes, I'll give her, has a great speaking manner, aside from the undertone, real or accidental, of condescension. Hermann and Nace (who was not there) are good, clear, logical speakers. I appreciate that. I appreciated Deth Im's diction as well.

Diction is a must for anyone in elected office, I believe.

It does not seem to be a requirement from our voters here in Kansas City.

More non-electeds; Brandon Ellington was impressive when he got up to talk; it was the first time I heard him speak. He lost his election, too. Octavia Southall was more mellow and easier to understand than I recall her being at the Northeast forum. It may be simply the comfort that comes from being in a room of mostly people of your race instead of the other way around. I don't feel that one way or the other, but I'm not speaking in public.

The police chief and (retired?) Deputy Chief Kevin Masters were there. Osco Bolton, from POSSE. He had some sharp things to say about street-level mediation programs that are working. Southall also talked about having mitigated a potential retaliation after a funeral where the family was overheard saying, "we know who did it and we're going to go get them."

There's people doing something, naysayers.

Despite how incredibly boring it is to listen (from the back row, where you can hardly hear anyway) to two-minutes of blather from 25 people and responses from politicians and such, you do pick up a few tidbits.