WE'RE ALL MAD HERE

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice
remarked.
"Oh you can't help that," said the cat: We're all
mad here. I'm mad, You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the cat, "Or you wouldn't
be here."


From "Alice in Wonderland"
by
Lewis Carroll


So, like Alice, you tumbled down the rabbit hole.

Except, you were not following a White Rabbit, and this is not Wonderland.

This is Homeless Nation, The first place on your journey to the adventure into the unknown, and things are getting , as they did for Alice, "curiouser and curiouser," one of the many famous phrases from the book, and used to describe an event with extraordinary wonder.

And the book, a delightful mix of humor, wisdom and satire, is chock full of events described with extraordinary wonder.

Personally, I think much of the book, while very entertaining and enlightening, was written while Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (that's Lewis Carroll's real name) was sitting around with that green caterpillar in one of the book's chapters.

The green caterpillar who was smoking the blue hookah.

But, yeah, you are down the rabbit hole , and, here in Homeless Nation, on an adventure into the unknown, and just about everything is getting curiouser and curiouser about this event of extraordinary wonder, including the glimmer of the thought that is forming in your mind.

The thought that you may have gone mad.

No home. Nobody covering your back. Little or no money. No job. You are homeless. You are a street puppy.

You don't look the same way you once looked. But you haven't seen a decent mirror in a while, since they were taken out of the Burger King restroom in order to dissuade street puppies from peering into them while taking that morning cat bath.

So you don't really know how you look, except for the occasional curious glances of alarm sent your way by citizens of that other nation, whenever you dare to venture outside homeless nation.

Yeah, you've either gone mad, or you're dreaming a very bad dream.

But if you're dreaming, why do your feet hurt so much? Why don't your clothes fit so well? Why are you hungry? Why do you have a constant, nagging ache in your upper back molar? Why do people tend to move away from you in the small queue at the bus stop?

Can't be a dream. Dreams end, and you don't remember much about them. But you remember all of this, day by day. One long blur of muffled sounds, and fuzzy visions and mysterious pains and stifled feelings you are remembering even as you live within them.

Yup, you've gone mad. And everybody around you is mad. Aren't they?

Well, doctors have a name for this particular madness. They call it the "Alice in Wonderland Syndrome, " a disorienting neurological condition which affects human perception.

And the "Alice in Wonderland" syndrome comes with some hefty symptoms.

Distortions which recur several times a day and can last from a few minutes to a few weeks. And the sufferer can become alarmed, frightened, and even panic-stricken.

Hmmm...sounds like a typical day in the Homeless Naiton.

I mean, you wake up. You have no idea what time it is. It is dark, but you went to sleep when it was light. and now, everything looks distorted in the glare of the street lamps blazing near your sleeping spot.

But it was light out when you went to sleep, because you had nothing to do for the rest of the evening, except to lie down and try to remember to wake up very early, before the police find out that you are sleeping at a spot clearly marked, "No Trespassing," and stop by and wake you up, and ruin the rest of your whole day with the arrest, and the handcuffs, and the booking.

So, yeah, it's dark outside. And everything looks distorted in the glare of the street lights. Even your hands and feet look distorted. And occasionally you wander into forbidden territory because that "No Trespassing" sign looked like it said, "Just come on in and have a rest."

And now, another, and the most prominent symptom of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome...altered body image, makes an appearance.

And the sufferers of that sympton will find that they are confused as to the size and shape of parts of...or all of the body. Right, like when you go to sit up, when you first awaken, and your head hits the tree right behind you and you realize you forgot that your head is bigger when it's covered in five ski caps. And that you can't feel your hands because you slept on them.

Or when you get back from the store where you had a voucher to get some new used pants and you realize they are way too big, and then you realize you didn't know how much weight you had lost when you looked at the pants...only looked, because you are not allowed to try them on in the kind of places where you take the voucher to get them.

Sense of taste and smell and touch is also affected by this affliction. That uh, stew you ate at the "feed" last night, well, you couldn't really tell by tasting, or smelling, or even touching it...what it really was. But you know it wasn't cous cous.

One of the more alarming symptoms is actual intense and overt hallucinations. Either seeing things that are not there, or just misinterpreting events and situations.

Remember the twenty dollar bill you had in your hand, the one the generous person gave to you at the bus stop, without you even asking him for it?

Well, poof! It disappeared, right after you passed the corner bodega that sells beer.

And that gal you were supposed to meet after the church service where they serve the raspberry scones and coffee after the two hour service? Well, hard to remember, now what was her name? Was her hair black...no blonde ?

How old was she? Did she come on to you...or did you make a fool of yourself and ask for her phone number while maybe leering at the little bit of leg showing below her used Calvin Klein one size too small levis? And why would you ask for her number? You don't even have a phone.

Was she there at all? Or were you staring too long at the church's stain glass windows with the pretty angels, who, in your distorted, altered perception , may have been talking to you?

Relax. Don't panic. And don't tense up. You do that, and those pants that are too large will fall right off.

You are down the Rabbit Hole, and things are curiouser and curiouser,and they will stay that way, as long as you are in Homeless Nation.

It's nature's way of protecting you until you can navigate your way back up the Rabbit Hole.

And, hey, enjoy it while it lasts. It's not everyday when you can look at those big feet of yours and imagine them fitting into those slim, black leather Gucci ankle boots you once dreamed of buying if you could only have fit into them!

And take comfort in the fact that this "Alice in Wonderland" syndrome has been around a long time. And that Lewis Carroll, could possibly have written the book while he was sitting around the hookah with that green caterpillar.

And, in your altered state of perception, you can also believe that he wrote the following quote from the book just for street puppies.

MAD HATTER: There is a place. Like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery and danger! Some say to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter. Which luckily, I am!

BRANDS R US

Ever wonder about big time corporate name changes?

Like when a venerable and large accounting firm gets caught with their sticky fingers way too far into their clients' pockets and then whoo...openings for executives turn into windows, somebody goes to the clink, and the name of the firm, which probably belonged to a guy who died about a hundred years ago, becomes the punchline of the week on Letterman.

Then the venerable firm pulls the blinds, turns out the lights, for awhile, and then ,Shazam!

Blinds pulled back up, lights on, new parking spaces drawn, and a sign that once read "Abraham O'Riley & Sons Excellent Bean Counters," now reads "Whiz Mongrels & Sons, Sort of ExcellentBean Counters," and hey, we're back in business.

That's called "Brand Management," and it was invented by a guy from Procter and Gamble.

Brand Management is basically revising a corporate vision, and restating a corporate mission statement...or, when urgent circumstances alter the public perception of an organization so radically that something has to be done..... changing that letterhead, and fast.

And that urgent circustance could be anything. Like when somebody figures out that the once venerable name of the organization just doesn't fit the new 'vision' of the company, after a study is released by the Surgeon General saying smoking is a death sentence, and then a cigarette company, like Philip Morris, changes its name to "Altria. "

Or when (we won't mention the name) an airline loses one of it's jets when it nosedives into a swamp and knows nobody in his right mind is going to get on a flight to anywhere which bears the name of a jet that took a dive into a swamp, so it changes the name to "Fly Real High Over Swamps."

And we here in Homeless Nation, having experienced some urgent circumstances since, oh, forever, like the media knocking us about with too many homeless on the street; too many homeless on the sidewalk; too many homeless in the bathroom at the Burger King shaving and washing their socks, and then going out and wiping everybody's wind shield with the soap from the soap dispenser.

Well, we decided we needed some of that Brand Management.

So we called a caucus of our executive council of street puppies and sat around on a street corner, and in between scratching our heads a lot, and dodging pedestrians, we hammered out a new corporate vision statement.

First thing, the new name. We are no longer homeless. We are Domestically Challenged. Howzat sound?

Ok, then, that takes care of the corporate vision thing.

But now, we had to think up a mission statement to go along with the vision thing.

And that wasn't real hard. Seems we have a lot of new corporate suit street puppies around here who worked, until recently, at places that deal in mission statements and corporate vision.

That is until those visions and statements started coming to them in memos written in the language of Bangledesh, and telling them that the corporation they had worked for had just envisioned how much money they could save themselves by outsourcing everything but the distribution of postage stamps to their employees so they could put them on outgoing resumes.

These guys...and gals...are terrific. They're still in shock, ya know, dreaming of the day, not long ago when they could ride around in the back seat of a car without being cuffed, and had credit cards and Blackberries and stuff. But they can still do corporate think, and that's what we need.

First, we are forming an R & D department. That's research and development, not run and duck. And, these former corporate suit people have a terrific first project in mind.

Stealth technology. That's right. We will soon possess the technology to make ourselves invisible! And what a relief that will be to all of those people who will no longer have to pass us by and go "tsk, tsk," look what too many Budweisers on an empty stomach for ten years will do to ya."

Also, from R&D, and maybe even before Stealth....we will have Morphing! We can morph into any shape or vision we need to be. Means we can sleep anywhere and not be bothered because the guy who owns the lawn or porch we're sleeping on will think he's looking at a big ole' friendly, snoring bassett hound curled up there.

Then, and this is the one I really like. We will have our own Taser technology.

Think of it. No more "Can you spare some change for a bar of soap, sir?" We just whip out that taser thing. Don't even have to use it, just kind of twirl it around in our fingers, and before you know it, we'll have enough change to buy our own soap company. Look out Procter and Gamble.

And we haven't even started. These new corporate suit street puppies are going to come up with all kinds of things which will give our homeless nation, er, domestically challenged nation brand a whole new image. Yup, and a whole new restated vision , and a revised mission statement.

Why, we will have Human Resources. And Growth and Management. And Corporate Outreach. And our own mouthpiece, ta da....A Public Relations Maven.

Yeah, things are going to change around here. Now, with our whole new breed of corporate suit street puppies, out here working for us on Brand Management, we'll be in high cotton.

We might even get our own reality TV show with Donald Trump.

And what an irony. Just think. What would all of our new corporate suit brand managing street puppies have done, to spend a fortune for their clothing, if Ralph Lipschitz hadn't changed his name to Ralph Lauren!

MOMMY, MY LIFE HURTS

Now comes our next generation. The young ladies and gentlemen who will take us into the sunset of our lives.

We behold them, now, at the dawning of their lives.

And they are , indeed, a wondrous sight. All dolled up in comic and surreal and sometimes grotesque outfits of sequins and latex and glitter and satin glory. We hold our breath, and take their little hands in ours and shoo them through the door on a Halloween evening, for their annual trek in pursuit of the candy bars and other gooey, tasty treats which will last them one whole week.

And in that one whole week, Their dreams of their future roles in life will change as fast as they shed their zany costumes.

Zack, the kid in the Star Trek U.S.S.ENTERPRISE uniform is going to be an astronaut, but next week, he'll settle for a fireman. Makika, the cat with the yellow face paint and whiskers has decided it's law school for her, but then on Saturday, she will announce that, instead, she's going to become a hairdresser...for movie stars.

Mary, the shy one, dressed up as a ballerina, is going to to be a doctor. Period. Tyler is absolutely going to be a U.S. Marine, just like his late daddy, but that will change to a fighter pilot by Monday. Letisha, clad from head to toe in a sparkly leotard, wants the world to know that she will be the perfect circus performer in Cirque du Soleil. But a couple of days later, she decides it's safer to be a bus driver.

Christopher, the serious one, who started reading at three, and at seven is a whiz at math, knows for sure, he will design rocket trains. They don't have those yet, but Chris believes he knows how to put that together. Or, maybe, next week, he'll decide to put his talents to designing the next great solar powered sports car.

Michael wants to be the President of the United States. Failing that, he'd like to be a talk show host. His sister, Leah, has designs on politics, too. She wants to be the governor of Florida. Or a dolphin trainer.

The dreams these children have of their futures are as diverse as their ethnic, cultural and social backgrounds.

But the one thing they do have in common now, is a shattered life.

Shattered by events beyond their control, and for now, for most of them, beyond their understanding or comprehension.

Life changed for them recently. Something went terribly wrong and they went from living a secure and abundant life to, maybe sleeping in mommy's car, or in a dingy motel room for weeks on end, or, in some cases out there on the streets in homeless nation.

They're living in a shelter now. With other children and mommies and some daddies. And life is chaotic and noisy and filled with strangers and rules and other kids just like them. Just like them because kids don't see the differences in their social and cultural and ethnic backgrounds.

That will come later, when the age of innocence has passed. For now, their resilience and curiosity and love of all things unique and seemingly bizarre will help them to transcend their circumstances, and bear the realities and hardships of an environment charged with tension and doubt and so many fears.

Those realities and hardships which, for now, they are sometimes shielded from by the swift flicking of a tear wiped away by anxious parents, or loving shelter caregivers who tend to broken hearts and shattered lives with open hands and great, loving gestures of hope.

These children walk a thin and shaky line between the whimsy of the great Dr. Seuss's "Oh, The Places You Will Go", and the darkness of "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."

And in their eyes, in those bright and curious and shining and hungry puppy eyes, you see the veil to their future, woven with the threads of mercy.

These children, these maybe future astronauts, and firemen, and rocket scientists and U.S. Marines and fighter pilots, and bus drivers and lawyers and doctors and hairdressers and circus acrobats and governors and dolphin trainers, and Presidents of the United States of America, are stuck now in survival mode here in homeless nation.

Some of them will make it through the survival mode and the chaos which now defines their lives, and not be the worse off for it. For those who make it through, there will once again be a secure and loving home, and the opportunity and means to prepare them for the roles they once dreamed of when they dreamed of how their lives would be.

But, some of them won't make it through this part of their life journey unscathed. The hurt that some of these children endure by having their life shattered by events out of their control will prove to be unshakeable, and their futures will be marred by so many of the awful events spawned by the damage done to a young, and innocent and tender ego.

And that is an outrage. And we should all be very angry about that. And do something.

And what we should do, is to love these children - our children -love them enough to make the strongest possible effort as families and as a society, to see that this ugly and searing blight of homelessness has - by the time our children are old enough to really begin their journey to be a fireman, a bus driver, an astronaut, a lawyer, a doctor, a rocket scientist, a U.S. Marine or a future President of the United States - been cleared away by the people of this great nation.

This great nation, which may well put people on Mars in our lifetime, needs a gut check on this present, shameful domestic situation which will, if nothing else, deprive us all of the intellects, the skills, the drive and the boundless energy of these children.

And our government needs to go to war for these children. And that war should be right up there with the War on Drugs, The War on Terrorism, and all of those other wars "over there."

We can do no less for our next generation. Our legacy.

In the meantime, hug them a lot, tend to their scrapes and boo boos, tell them bedtime stories, kiss away their tears, and listen to them when they talk about those dreams they have about their future. And, maybe, sing to them.

And I'd like to offer up part of a great Beach Boys song that I wish I could sing to every one of these kids I have met here, in homeless nation. Kind of a lullaby straight from the heart.

The song is "Disney Girl" and part of it goes like this

Clearin' skies and dryin' eyes now I see your smile

Darkness goes and softness shows

a changing style

Just in time, words that rhyme, well

bless your soul

Now I'll fill your hands with

kisses and a tootsie roll.

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdon, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair."

That is the opening paragraph of English Author Charles Dickens acclaimed "Tale of Two Cities," which was published in 1859, and has sold more than 200 million copies to date.

That famous paragraph raises the curtain on Dickens' epic depiction of the plight of the French peasantary demoralized by the French aristocracy in the years leading up to the French Revolution, and the many unflattering social parallels with life in London during the same period.
And those unflattering social parallels resonate through the ages right up to today, and the prevailing attitudes held, and actions taken, by most of our society and our government toward the citizens of homeless nation.

Now, the French and the English had different ways of dealing with their unflattering social parallels. In Paris, they had the guillotine. In London they had Old Bailey.

Here in homeless nation, we have two cities, that just like Paris and London are separated by a large body of water. And just like Paris and London, Both cities have social problems, and both exhibit unflattering social parallels in their attitudes and action toward those social problems.

Social problems like unemployment, poverty, and crime are rampant in our two cities, In addition to that, and perhaps, in part because of that, homelessness ranks right up there as another major social problem. And both cities in their way, have their own unflattering way to deal with their social problem of homelesslessness.

The French and English had their guilliotine and Old Bailey. We have County Commissions and City Councils and Workshops. And their attitude, and their action, and their and aim is the same. "Get rid of the problem." Not solve it. Get rid of it.

Now, These two cities have been wrestling with quite a dilemma for a long time. Homeless numbers going up, more street puppies pouring into homeless nation. Patience of the townpeople going down.

Patience of the townspeople going down, as in, they want street puppies off their lawns, out of their alleys and parks, off their benches, and heaven forbid, at least one hundred feet away from the front door of their favorite restaurant, or shoe store, or video arcade.

And the townspeople don't want us to ask them for money. Heck, they don't even want us to put on special colored vests and work real hard and sell a product to them for money.

For instance, we homeless nation street puppies are taking up way too much space on medians and corners, and interstate ramps trying to sell them a newspaper ...and on Sunday morning of all things, when they're all on their way to church!

And the townspeople of our two cities have an action ace up their collective sleeve. They vote.

They vote other prominent townspeople right on to, and off of, County Commissions and City Councils.

Which gives these so called prominent townspeople a social problem to hoot about, and then get their picture taken a lot, and maybe grovel enough to get enough voting townspeople snortin' mad enough to fortify some of the grimy lot of hooting, groveling , photogenic, prominent townpeople in a future election campaign for the top slot of the County Commission or the City Council.

Anyway, one of the cities' City Councils, buoyed up by the complaints of homeless people blocking their way into their favorite establishment, decided, enough is enough, time to make a hot potato, so they passed an ordinance which basically said "Off With Their Vests!"

Actually, the ordinance /potato basically said, "You homeless people can't panhandle or sell newspapers on our corners, medians, or off ramps anymore, hand over that vest! "

So, the clever homeless road dawgs in that other city, hid the vests and came across the bay, put the vests back on, and quadrupled the number of homeless people selling newspapers on our corners, and medians and off ramps.

Here is where it gets sticky. That other city. by passing that ordinance, had tossed their hot potato right into our hot potato pan.

Not even thinking about the social implications. Like, maybe not good to mix up road dawgs with street puppies.

So, yet another potential social problem lurked here. Chaos in the streets maybe. A real "West Side Story" adventure shaping up, you know, the "When yer a jet, yer a jet all your days..." kind of thing.

Then, the townspeople in our city became restive. And they thought, "Well, heck, the other city did it. Took back their streets and medians and off ramps. But, now those road dawgs are coming over here and blocking our way into our Wal-mart! Yikes! We gotta do something!"

So our townspeople called our groveling, photogenic, hooting City Council members...and County Commission members.

Ok, so our County Commission members met, Our City Council members met. And they tossed that hot potato around a little. But, no dice, couldn't up come up with anything.

Then, the other city even sent one of their helpful County Commission members over here to show our County Commission and City Council members how to do it. Still no dice. The whole thing was starting to look like Abbott and Costello'a famous "Who's on Third?" routine.

Anyway, our County Commission and City Council members finally did the right thing. They formed Workshops to study the hot potato, er, dilemma.

That's a way to give the hot potato some time to cool down.

And it worked, for the time being, that is.

And the County commission and City Council meetings in our city revealed something important, and meaningful....maybe even memorable. An ethic lurking there in the social dilemma.

There are actually ethical people in our hooting, groveling photogenic, lot who have a heart, and some common sense, and well....ethics.

Some of those people with a heart, and common sense, and ethics proclaimed they were not going to vote on an ordinance which would deprive homeless people of the meager income they had in this putrid economy by depriving them of the right to sell newspapers in this city. They were going to table that vote. Until the issue comes up again.

And it will. So long as there is one person who thinks it is offensive to have to pass, egads, a homeless person with a colorful vest on selling newspapers to people on their way to church, and one hooting, groveling, photogenic person lookin' for a vote.

In this ongoing tale of two cities, you can count on it.