RUDIMENTS, pt. 893
(it all sucks, very) - pt. 1
A ways back there was a guy
who lived in Sewaren NJ, at
the corner of the two main
blocks, right athwart the
railroad. I never 'met' the
guy on a personal basis,
but from doing the local
town printing, etc., we did
cross paths. He was some
sort of professional, one
of those guys who rents a
clean office space downtown,
advertises little, calls it some
professional corporate name,
and apparently rakes it in
trading securities and futures
and stocks and bonds on a
pencil-point and sign-here
basis. Years later, in Clark,
NJ, there was another one
of these, perfectly duplicating
the scenario I just drew. Each
of these guys lived pretty
royally, seemingly based on
little more than their factors
of trades and deal-making. The
Sewaren guy had 3 or 4 antique
Rolls Royces (which of course
is how he first caught my
attention) - right-hand drive,
stately looking, the big
Brougham fender sweep,
long, royal grill, the Silver
Lady hood ornament thing,
etc. Maybe these were 1940's
units. He drove them himself,
at last no chauffeur! But to
see these odd autos crawling
around Sewaren and Woodbridge
was a sight to behold. He lived,
also, in a grand, old-style sea-front
home, except that it faced the other
way, at the railroad tracks now.
Bad planning. Sewaren itself,
before the Government gave it
all over to the refineries and oil
companies (and tracks for the
rail tankers), was once a resort
town called Boynton Beach.
With, in fact, its own real rail
stop - a trunk line, for people,
not just oil tank cars. Like
Bayonne a hundred years
previous, the swarms of
bathers and beach-goers
came in droves across the
harbors from New York City
for the 'relief'' then of a
'country-fied' New Jersey.
(Oh if they only knew). Quite
Victorian in character and in
atmosphere (from old pictures)
there were large gathering areas,
casinos, tented refreshment and
dance pavilions, large waterfront
hotels, etc. There were beach
clubs and dance clubs, piers and
docks. Quite the scene, and all
gone by the post WWII years.
The string of Presidents then,
for purposes of national defense,
took the seaside and coastal water
away - building, or allowing
the building of, miles of industry,
oil storage, refinery, transport,
rail, and maintenance and
powerplant usages. That was
the end of any recreational
aspect to the location - and the
end, as well, of any humane,
civil, sensible, ecological,
environmentally aware use.
The vast old palaces and
places were unceremoniously
torn down, and all that remain
now, to this day, are but a
few of the coastal homes,
which sit there without their
backstories, lost, bewildered,
crumbling or, just as horrid,
completely modernized into the
sort of half-stage of sense that
we see in modern homes today.
The waterfront was, for years,
a toxic swamp of chemical spills,
poison dumps, reedy muck. The
refinery companies and power
companies thought nothing of
using the waters they were on
to simply despoil and rot them.
No concern, no regard for people.
It still goes on, but now it's in
an orderly fashion, with certain
winked-at rules and stipulations.
The township vandals all along
these areas have already made
their first and second-generation
monies though theft and dirty
dealings, and now the same
formats of crime and plunder
are done, just up the street, with
mandated Government monies
and projects, rows of ticky-tack
senior living quarters, child-like
Senior Centers with Mickey
Mouse and singalong meals,
while the local thieves in the
guise of Council and Mayor
and local payroll inductees
whoop it all up in their
12-dollar suits. They even
have, here, the nerve to
manufacture fake names
and heritage - unblushingly
(they're too dumb to blush),
calling at 'Falcon Point.'
There hasn't been a Falcon
here, if ever, in 75 years,
and probably the last one
was, if it existed, was a
Ford Falcon. This is, really,
just township payroll-padding
at its very worst.
-
One after the other, it seems,
they all eventually end up in
jail - Wally Zirpolo to Joe
Vas. All the same bullshit.
-
The stockbroker guy in Clark,
while I was at Barnes & Bible
there, became a casual friend.
His Rolls Royces (2) were of
1984 vintage - styled much
differently and less stately
than the Sewaren fellow's -
we used to compare notes,
because at the time one
of the motorcycles I'd
occasionally ride to work on
was also an '84 year vintage.
Meaningless actually, but it
was a big deal to him, nearly
always remarked upon. He
too had but a clean office
space, and a staff of one, and
lived in a nice house down
along Featherbed Lane or
whatever that street was (is)
called. (Working from distilled
memory causes occasional
glitches). I often wondered
what these guy did for their
money. The whole stock market
thing was a bad American
fiction to me, part of that
continuing national fiction
of 'public' ownership of the
enterprises of the land. It
too is all so bogus as to be
laughable. These people
buy a few hundred shares
of this or that, and then,
(know-nothings that they
are about the stock and
product they just bought),
start demanding a constant
increase in stock valuation.
Let's walk through this, and
this is what used to really burn
me up about all that 'American'
free enterprise bullshit. Owning
stocks kills children. That''ll
be my start. Owning stocks
poisons food. That'll be another
one. The public stock-ownership
market system is a major flaw,
and a deadly one. Here's how:
Let's say there's a company
called Lethro Shirts, Inc.
Trades at 18 bucks a share.
Price- earning (PR ratio) of
12. Decent capitalization, a
plant in Kentucky and another
in Massachusetts. Dividends,
let's say, a buck-thirty a share.
Joe Francisco, from Inman
Avenue - knows nothing st
all about the shirt process,
looms, dyes, stitching,
stamping, processing, costs
of things like buttons and
tags. That's just for starters.
All Joe knows is that, each
quarter, he better see increased
and steadily improving valuation,
dividends and annual results.
The stock hits a bad spell,
it all drops. Shareholders, like
Joe, start grumbling - annual
meetings, bad feedback, and
always on the edges some
stalker wanting to buyout or
take control of the company
by stockholder percentage -
another basic know-nothing
just seeking more money and
a better return on a 'company'
he can maybe absorb into his
ring of shoddy companies
already owned. He starts a
movement : In order to increase
and achieve better results,
move all production to Kenya,
where people (kids) will work
for 7 cents an hour, on 14
hour days of work. Dyes can
be dumped into the rivers,
without the USA type hassles.
Local water supplies are
contaminated thereby, but
so what. Returns are increased.
Joe Francisco on Inman Ave.,
can get another 12 cents a
share - no matter the death
and contamination, exploitation
and violation of basic human
norms and consideration. The
shirt company begins treating
people like pigs; let alone all
the lost jobs in Kentucky and
in Massachusetts. Screw all that.
Now, I'm just getting started;
I could go on about this for
another ten minutes. Is this
what America was founded for?
Is this what America is about?
Well, based on the Capitalist
system, and the standard laws
of profit. loss, and stockholder
trading, YES. And that's how
these do-nothing trading guys
get their Rolls Royces and big
houses too - despoiling Sewaren
and Clark in the balance is as
meaningless as spit in the face
of one of those Kenyan workers.
Believe me, it's the sort of thing,
as well, that leads to wife-beating,
sexual exploitation, lying in public
as a Councilman or Mayor to your
own friends and neighbors.
-
And it all sucks too. Very.
What? You say you're
welcoming another five
warehouses, and happy
for it all? Don't drink the
water, and don't trip on
the cheap macadam surface.
You're NOT covered, and
this here was NEVER a
resort. (Except maybe
a 'last' resort). Yours.
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