Watching City Hall #354, (3-19-05)

“We ARE the fucking Arabs!!”

(Brando in ‘The Formula’)

Brando was screaming at George C. Scott, playing a persistent detective tracking down a formula that people kept killing to hide. A substitute for oil. Pretty scary stuff for some people. All sorts of mixed interests.

Texas oil billionaires feared losing their markets. Mossad feared the U.S. would exit the Middle East and leave Israel vulnerable. Scott dug doggedly through layers of puppets and sham companies and deceit. People lied and people died.

“It’s those goddamned Araabs!!”

That was Brando’s first pack of lies, screamed out in a boisterous, yet friendly southern accent as he came around the desk to slap Scott on the back and shake his hand vigorously. The movie came to mind as I shuffled around Joe Alioto Plaza today drinking in the various factions. The demonstration was billed as the Second Annual Protest. A march on the second anniversary of the start of the war in Iraq. Tens of thousands of people representing millions watching on the tube around the world swarmed and clustered.

It was like some giant chess board in a game involving oil and flags and racism. The immediate object in this day’s contest was the American flag mounted on the front of City Hall directly above the mayor’s office. Or, rather, it was the position of the flag.

Ahhhh, technicalities get people killed every day. Turn the flag upside down and it means you’re in trouble. Lower it a length of the banner down the pole and it expresses mourning. National flags. State flags. City flags. Company flags. Gang colors. It’s a crazy, crazy world my innocent little campers.

I love this shit. I wandered and studied the individual powers on today’s chessboard. Today, the flag above City Hall represented a war being fought over Iraqi. The position of the flag upon the pole today represented the position of the people of the City of San Francisco on the matter of that war. The flag was positioned in the pro-war top of the pole attitude and it soon took advantage of the swirling winds to wrap itself around the pole several times. It was as though the flag wanted no part of this conflict and hid in shame. “If they can’t see me, maybe they’ll quit fighting over me.”

It was George Schultz’s call to keep the flag at the top of the pole today. Only an idiot thinks Mayor Newsom made that call. Ironic how Reagan’s aging Jewish, Secretary of State’s wife became this Democratic stronghold’s Chief of Protocol. Schultz, the flag, and big oil at the top.

Below, fittingly, the mayor of San Francisco was absent. Uh huh. The darkened windows behind the ceremonial balcony beneath the defiant banner spoke volumes. I wonder if he’s hiding under his desk wetting his drawers or perhaps sipping champagne with Schultz and oil billionaire Getty who bought the office for him. Can this be the same guy who rushes to the Mission or to the Western Addition or the BayView to look at murdered young black men? Hiding from the anger of the 70% of voters who condemned this war. These voters are here to mourn and protest the deaths of the thousands who have died and the mayor is absent. Gone. AWOL.

Gavin knows that the voters don’t really matter. He knows that, like Willie Brown before him, his reelections will be guaranteed if he only does what he’s told. Millions will be spent spreading lies about his opponents and if that doesn’t work, tens of thousands of fraudulent absentee ballots sit ready to hand him a win. In between elections, he just has to do his best impression of Ronald Reagan. Today, he’s playing the busy chief executive, too caught up in other matters to notice the 100,000 screaming voters beneath his windows. What the hell could be more important than that? Sadly, the answer is Arab oil and the favor of those who control it.

Spread, phalanx-like across the top stairs of the Willie Dome are an evenly spaced troop of Sheriff’s deputies in riot gear. Protecting the position of the flag.

A few yards further, stretched along the curb, at the sidewalk are 100 demonstrators representing the State of Israel (if this is sounding anti-Semitic, don’t blame me, I am only reporting what I saw). This group waved a dozen or so Israeli flags and were the fourth line of defense for big oil policy and the latest war it has started to expand its monopoly over the world’s supply of crude.

I spoke to some of these demonstrators and was struck by how old they were. I realized they were probably the product of a phone bank using a very old rolodex of local Jewish activists. It made me chuckle later when I realized that all of the young Jewish activists were on the other side of the street condemning the same war! Generation gaps. Value gaps.

Next came the cops. Ahhhh, the cops. Always, it’s with the cops! … More conservative Republican thugs. An ugly pock-mark faced fat one named Arcardi pushed at me and sneered, crossing the legally defined ‘personal space’ that was supposed to protect me from him. I flashed my press pass (suddenly realizing, my pass now made me a target) … he only pushed closer. I held up the pass, hanging on the key chain around my neck: “Don’t you respect this?”

“It depends on whose wearing it!” snapped the butt ugly thug. … You know, let me pause here. I ain’t got nothing against ugly people. For God’s sake, I’m an ugly person myself. Most of my friends and family are ugly. But, this guy was like, bad guy movie star ugly. Scary thing is that, unlike Newsom, he wasn’t acting. Years of hate had seeped from the depths of his soul and become etched across his face. I did the only intelligent thing. I called to the Sentinel’s boss, Patrick Murphy who was standing a few feet away watching us: “You seeing this? Report this!” The cop froze around 6” from my face. I could smell his stinking breath and it was a bad, bad experience. As I waited for him to strike, I had a brilliant idea.

I ran and hid behind Patrick. It seemed prudent. “Do you respect THIS press pass?” I tossed back at the donut disposal system, pointing to Patrick’s ID. He finally backed off. Later, I told Patrick I’d thought it over and I wasn’t going to write about the guy but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to.

More flags

Then, came the Palestinian flags and their supporters, strung out behind the cops, yelling and arguing with the Jews between the cops and the deputies. See what I mean? It really was like a big chess board. Schultz is the king. Gavin is a rook. The cops and deputies are pawns. Hundreds of them. The Highway Patrol officers on their dozens of bikes lining the South side of the Plaza are knights. … They were very impressive, these guardians of the masters of world oil. But, where were their leaders?

Gone fishing. Whatever. Somewhere safe, refusing to bend to the public will with even the smallest gesture. Too chicken shit to face this slice of the Middle East they brought to our door. It wasn’t that way with the leaders of the left.

The Russian/Persian Jewish/Christian won big

That’s one hell of a long headline. … It’s one of those ‘only in SF’ headlines but it really does sum up the day. It was District 5 Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi’s idea to add the flag at half-mast as a final symbol to represent the feelings of the vast majority of San Franciscans against this war. I went to talk to the Left’s new golden boy to learn how he out maneuvered the fat cats, federal, state & local governments.

“I had no idea any of this would happen!”

Great. Just great. Our new general relies upon blind luck. That sounds like my dating strategy. … Lord, for all our sakes, I hope he has better luck. But then, his significant other is Washington Post station chief, Evelyn Nieves who makes Kimberley Guilfoye look like an over-the-hill lingerie model. His brother made it through a couple of tours in Iraq. His parties are absolute musts and have brought a Middle Eastern flavor to a place that desperately needed it. After years of playing spokesman for giant issues and candidates, it is his time and he is ready.

Newsom’s people have flip-flopped. A couple of months ago, I heard his spokesman, Peter Ragone tell a reporter not to write that Gavin was against the war. I swear to God. That’s true. Someone get Gavin to deny it. Now, we’re supposed to think he’s Abbie Hoffman? Abbie Hoffman showed up at protests, Gavin.

But, the best part was

You might say my values are twisted, but I simply adore beautiful, mature, powerful women. It’s just my way. Oh, it never lasts. Like an old hound dog, I watch the other, younger dogs and remember when I used to catch rabbits. These days I mostly sit on the front porch with my tongue hanging out, panting and drooling like Old Yeller. But there was a time. A time when I had confidence and strength and ran at the front of the pack.

I’ve married 6 of them. Lucky me. I’d love to have a real girl friend. Wouldn’t that be cool? My friends got me down and cut my hair and shaved most of my beard trying to improve the hopeless. I think it’s helped. … Why am I telling you this? … Hmmmm. It’s Saturday night and I’m alone with a glass of Maker’s Mark on the rocks and some really great ‘Train Wreck’ green pot.

That’s it. I’ve had a marvelous week sitting Alex Clemens’ (sfusualsuspects.com) & his lady, Rikka’s place while they’re visiting Swedon and Finland. Alex is the best connected political PR/Consultant in town (Barbary Coast Consulting). He not only gets along with the likes of me and Chris Daly. He’s also (like many of my friends, believe it or not) a supporter of Mayor Newsom’s. I joke with him about being cousins cause my whole family on my mom’s side are Clemens from the same long valley running through Illinois and Missouri that spawned him, the James and Younger boys and yours truly.

My friends treat me like gold. “The bar is stocked.” … “I don’t expect there to be any beer in the fridge when I get back.” (It was full of everything from Anchor Steam to Sierra Nevada) “You’re gonna get laid this week!” Well, at least Alex was right about the booze.

A week snuggled with Jake & Elwood, the beloved felines who roam the handsome loft with the 25’ cathedral ceilings. I sat at the bar in the kitchen and watched Sports Center and West Wing on the enormous Tevo equipped tube on the opposite wall and wondered what the other poor people were doing night after night. Jake jumps up into my lap and purrs while I nibble at his ears. He understands. Alex says Jake was homeless too. Jake and I appreciate a good thing. Tomorrow, it’s on to watch Savannah Blackwell’s (sfprogressive.com) to watch Savannah’s cat, Madeline while Savannah visits family in either Texas or Oregon or is it Japan? My friends trot the globe and leave me in luxury they’ve worked for their entire lives. It rocks.

That’s enough. There’s gotta be something on the tube. A cat’s rubbing against my leg wanting some attention. It’s Elwood. I’m outta here.

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