First signs of autumn in midtown

If you have been reading me for very long, then you might recall that I document the changing of the seasons, not by grass turning green, trees budding up, or the leaves turning shades of red, ochre and brown. Okay, I have no idea what color ochre is, I heard Bob Ross say it once and it stuck with me. Anyway, here in Midtown the changing of the seasons are marked by the Zombies who begin to come outside more often , hearkening the spring time, like ragged anorexic robins , I wrote about them here. Summer is marked by a rise in homicides . Winter on the other hand needs no help from the local riff raff, it gets cold, snows at the most inopportune times and in copious amounts, so that ones a no brainer. But Autumn, is more subtle, it eases up on you, the morning air is a little crisp, and the sun sets ever earlier, and petty thievery abounds.

Much like the Zombies of spring, the crack heads of autumn are going about their work in Midtown. Just as the hordes of potentially rabid squirrels prepare for the coming winter, so do the crack heads. The street in front of my humble abode is littered with broken auto glass, stereos are ripped from dashboards, leaving them to greet their owner with large gaping holes, that will no longer serenade them with obscure music from angst ridden emo punk electro hip hop bluegrass garage bands, or whatever crap the local art school crowd around here listens to. Burglaries will go on the upswing, shit will come up missing, winter is on its way, there is much work to be done. I have long contended that the local boofers (crack smokers), tend to hibernate through the winter, so it only stands to reason that they would need to stack up some cheddar(money), before it gets too cold to steal.

Another sure fire way to tell it's autumn is by the changing of the neighbors. The lease runs out for the people who live above me just as summer comes to a close. You might recall that I had an ever changing cadre of Art School students living above me. The leader of the group a homely, painfully thin, perpetually greasy haired young woman, who was a professional student and rug weaver. She had a giant fucking loom, and many a day and evening was filled with the thumping sound of the loom, slowly wearing a hole through the hardwood floor overhead. There was a steady procession of greasy haired , one size too small wearing boys and hippy-ish young women, also living with the ugly rug girl. Now they are gone, leaving piles of trash behind as the only proof that they were ever here at all. In their place are 3 hippy-ish 20 something guys, who are slowly growing louder with each passing day. By mid winter I will have reached my breaking point, there will be much posturing, beating on walls, and finally a profanity infused tirade from yours truly telling them they had best keep the fucking noise down. Thus the seasons have come full circle once again.

Veronica's Voice , who DO they speak for?

Every now and again I write something that I know will get me in trouble, and by trouble I mean I will offend some person or group of people. I never start out with that intention, okay maybe a few times I started out with that intention, but not this time, I swear. I have this over riding thing in me, that causes me to call booooooolshit, and I'm afraid it's kicked in to full offensive mode. Crime Scene KC linked this announcement regarding a local advocate group for hookers Veronica's Voice. Here's what got me going Veronica's Voice, a local nonprofit that works to end prostitution, will host its second annual Courage To Change walk at 4 p.m. Saturday at St. James Parish, 39th and Troost in Kansas City. Registration starts at 3:30, though that can be done online. Cost is $25 per person in advance, $30 that day. So I clicked over to their site, and here we go.

Veronica's Voice takes the position that Prostitution is pure exploitation, of innocent women and children, by men. The pimps, the Johns, Male Family members who abused the women in the first place, etc. Before I get going, let me state unequivocally the obvious , exploitation of a child is wrong, and should be dealt with by harsh punishment and swift legal action, that's a no brainer. While Veronica's Voice is to be commended for helping under age kids caught up in prostitution, I'll go out on a limb here, and say that underage prostitutes in this area make up a tiny portion of prostitutes. In the last couple of years, one case comes to mind that involved a couple of underage girls, one case. Here's the rub, the people at VV know that the mention of children , the implication that child prostitution is rampant in the city, will elicit a response, in other words it will pay off. Why, because most people dont get misty eyed over some round heeled adult woman who decided to leave her kids and sling her ass to pay for her dope habit.

The TRUTH is most street walkers in the city are well past their teens. The Truth is most call girls are also well past their teens. The truth is while pimps aren't non existent, they dont control the vast majority of hookers in this city. Most hookers in this city are hooked on crack, and you cant smoke crack and work a 9 to 5. You either have to steal, sell dope, or hook. It's no secret that I have a criminal history, and by history I mean I was out there in the part of the city that *L7's* , that's all of you honest, normal, decent folk, who fear or wisely choose not to tread in . So , I have known numerous women , not in the biblical sense, who freely chose to sling their ass for their own gain, of their own volition. I never judged them, still don't , but I do call shit like I see it. And as I see it, Veronica's Voice, the savior and protector of these allegedly abused and misused women of the night, is exploiting the very women they claim to be an advocate for.

Gee MM, you re being kind of harsh, cynical prick. Maybe I am, but let's look at a couple of things before we all jump on yours truly. Would you be more apt to donate money to an organization that helps people who are in fucked up situations due to their own choices, through their own decisions, or someone forced in to what is tantamount to slavery? Would you be more apt to help an organization that assists adult dope fiends or innocent children? No brainer , am I right. Listen, I'm all for someone getting off the streets, cleaning up and living right. I'm the last person in the world who would fault someone for turning it around. What I take exception with is being sold a bill of goods. Most of the women who walk the streets of Kansas City do so because they want to get high. They want to shirk their responsibilities as mothers, they want to chase that dope. It isn't because they are victims. VV likes to throw stats around, most hookers were abused sexually, so that makes them forever victims, gives them a pass. Well most child molesters were sexually abused as well, I dont hear many people suggesting that they should be considered victims.

Here is what got me started on this tirade over Veronica's Voice, they have a fee to participate in their "Courage To Change Walk", 30 bucks as a matter of fact. While I'm all for charitable acts, any time someone tells me I am required to pay a set price, that my charitable contribution must be x amount , then I get a little pissy about it. It's like public TV telling me "We want your help, but your help starts at 30 bucks." So in lieu of money I offer the following tip for turning those women of the night, or day around.
Stop giving them a pass because of their past. Millions of Men and Women have been abused as children, the vast majority of them never sell their services on a street corner or smoke crack.
If you keep telling someone that they are fucked up because of someone else, they will never get right. They will use it as a hole card, every time the fuck up, they will blame it on what transpired 20 or 30 years ago. And not for nothin, but Men aren't the root of all evil when it comes to prostitution. Creepy, yes, perverted, probably, pathetic, you bet, Johns are all of those things, but Johns wouldn't be buying if some woman wasn't selling.

At the end of the day, we all live with the choices we make. You can't preach, threaten or cajole someone in to not doing something they have set their minds to doing. Is it sad that there are women out there who have put a price on their dignity and self worth, yeah it's fucking tragic. And it's equally tragic when we see some wino passed out on a corner, or some kid throw their life away by committing a murder, or.... you get my drift, life is full of tragic stories, and when you really dig down and look at the core of the story, you will find that most people do what they do, because they want to. Think I'm being harsh? Next time you see a hooker on troost or the Avenue, ask her if she wants a job, a real job, waiting tables or whatever, then roll your window up before you get hit in the head with a round heeled shoe.

You can call me a cynic, a long winded one at that, but I've been around long enough to know when someone is slinging bullshit. I'm not saying that VV is a bad organization, I'm not saying they dont help women in bad situations. I am saying that they are using hype and hysteria to sell themselves. I am saying that asking somone to give their time and money is fine, telling them how much they are required to give is, well, it's .....pimpin.

**L7, street term for straight, honest , law abiding folks. Put an L and a 7 together and they make a square, L7****

Zombies invade Midtown!!!!

I saw one of the first signs of spring here in Midtown yesterday. It wasn't a Robin, fat from wintering in the South. There aren't any new buds on the tree branches, at least not that I noticed. No the true harbinger of warmer weather isn't marked by the traditional signs of Spring, at least in my mind. Somebody stole some tools I had sitting alongside the garage in back of my building. Huh, what does that have to do with Spring, you ask. Well I'll tell you.

When the weather is cold they stay indoors. I think they must hibernate, like anorexic bears. They only start to venture out when the weather turns warm. They, who the hell is They? I fondly refer to them as Zombies, most people call them Crack Heads. As the season changes and the weather turns warm, shit starts to come up missing. I park off the street, so I have thus far managed to keep all of the windows intact in my car. People in other buildings on this street aren't so lucky, they are forced to park on the street. Once or twice a week I will walk past a pile of glittering glass laying in the street, glass that in an earlier life was a car window. Often times there will be some newly arrived to the neighborhood hipster or Art school student, looking pissed and bewildered, looking from the pile of glass to the hole in their car that once held it. Unable to refrain from stating the obvious I will usually ask " Car get broken in to ?" And this will generally get me an icy look followed by an admission to leaving a phone or briefcase in the back seat.

Another sure sign of Spring in the city will be an increased body count. In fact one just turned up a few blocks away. Something about warmer weather that brings out the worst in people. Now back to the Zombies. If you think I am exaggerating , if you believe I might be taking literary liberties , (making shit up), then just take a drive along Armour road, or Linwood, or any of the major roads from 39th street north to Independence Avenue, in the evening, around dusk. And you will see them. They are easy to spot. Always painfully thin, always moving at a frantic pace, head constantly moving in all directions, scanning their surroundings, looking for and at things , real and imagined, that most of us cant see.

I know what you are thinking, why in the world would anyone live in the city if that's how it is? Why not just move? I've tried moving, lived in the burbs, even moved to the sticks once, but I always come back here. Dating as far back as the mid 70's when I took my first apartment on Warner Plaza off of Main street, right behind Milton's Jazz and Juice, a long gone dive bar, I keep coming back.

There's a scene in the movie "A River Runs Through It", where the successful brother offers the troubled brother a chance to move to Chicago with him, to leave his troubled past and Montana behind. The troubled brother responds " Oh, I'll never leave Montana, brother" The point is, he cant imagine leaving the good parts of his past and present life behind. I get that, and I feel the same way. For all it's flaws, this is home and I can't imagine living anywhere else.