Women in White part 4
A few days later, Mollie and I met for coffee. “Did he call you?” I asked.
“Yes, we’re getting together after work at Six Flags. He’s going to give me a tour of Six Flags and we’re going out to dinner afterward.” She broke out into a rousing chorus of:
Some enchanted evening
Someone may be laughin',
You may hear them laughin'
Across a crowded room
And night after night,
As strange as it seems
The sound of their laughter
Will haunt your dreams.
“Tell me, how do I look?”
“Well, when I suggested adding a little color to your outfit, I was thinking of something like a red scarf. I don’t know about that.” I pointed to her brooch. It was the letter ‘A’ outlined with red rhinestones. “You might want to reconsider the scarlet letter,” I said. “He might misunderstand. Where did you get it?”
“I won it in a contest at work. For making the most sales of automobile and bus insurance including that nightmare, CT Transit.” She seemed puzzled. “Why?”
“Well…it’s just that the ‘Scarlet Letter’ uh…has certain connotations.” I explained to her the origins of the ‘“Scarlet Letter.’”
Mortification flashed across her face. “So that’s why men keep staring at me. How embarrassing!” She hid her face in her hands.
“What does the ‘A’ stand for anyway?’
“Aggressive. I won the right to be called Ms. Aggressive Progressive. It’s considered an honor.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I caught it in time. Sammy may misunderstand,” I said wondering how long it had been for Sammy.
“What I want to know is why can’t I wear my rhinestone brooch.”
As she walked away both removing her rhinestone brooch and leaving me with the bill, she broke out in one of her inane songs.
Like a rhinestone cowgirl
Riding out on a bus in a star-spangled rodeo
Like a rhinestone cowgirl
And I dream of the things I'll do
With a subway token and a dollar tucked inside my shoe
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
letter to Chancellor Angela Merkel
6/28/2010
Chancellor Angela Merkel
Reichstag
Platz der Republik
Berlin, 11011
Dear Chancellor Merkel:
Guten morgen. Sprechen sie Duetsch nicht. I do not speak German very well so please forgive me.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory.
Because of the issues raised in the letter and because we all know that the German Transit system is one of the most efficient in the world, I am asking if you could help us in Connecticut to upgrade our inefficient transit system. Could you take time from your busy schedule to travel to Connecticut to help us in our hour of need?
As an incentive to travel to Connecticut, Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department has arranged for former President George W. Bush to continue his famous or as some might say infamous back rub.
I know that Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department of Transportation located at 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. (Telephone 00-1-860-594-2000) would be most appreciative. He is at his wits end trying to get the system functional.
Also Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, Connecticut Transit 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. (Telephone: 00-1-860-522-8101) is equally desperate.
Both of these men are anxiously waiting to hear from you.
Another option in lieu of visiting would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic-clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Rome.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Cc:
Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, Rome, Italy
Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, Moscow, Russia
President Nicholas Sarkosy, Paris, France
Peter Hendy, Commissioner Transport for London
Mr. Richard Sarles, Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority
Jay Walder, CEO, NY Metropolitan Transit Authority
Jeffery Mullen, CEO, Boston MBTA
Commissioner, Joseph Marie, Connecticut Department of Transportation
Capital Region Council of Governments
Connecticut Fund for the Environment
Transit for Connecticut
Mayor Eddie Perez, City of Hartford
MetroHartford International Business Center
Vicki Shotland, Greater Hartford Transit District
Business For Downtown
Capital City Economic Development Authority
State Transportation Committee
Secretary Ray LaHood, Secretary US Department of Transportation
Congressman John Larsen
Senators Chris Dodd & Joe Lieberman
Representative Jim O’Rourke
Various businesses that may be concerned about these issues
www.authorsden.com/mel
Chancellor Angela Merkel
Reichstag
Platz der Republik
Berlin, 11011
Dear Chancellor Merkel:
Guten morgen. Sprechen sie Duetsch nicht. I do not speak German very well so please forgive me.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory.
Because of the issues raised in the letter and because we all know that the German Transit system is one of the most efficient in the world, I am asking if you could help us in Connecticut to upgrade our inefficient transit system. Could you take time from your busy schedule to travel to Connecticut to help us in our hour of need?
As an incentive to travel to Connecticut, Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department has arranged for former President George W. Bush to continue his famous or as some might say infamous back rub.
I know that Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department of Transportation located at 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. (Telephone 00-1-860-594-2000) would be most appreciative. He is at his wits end trying to get the system functional.
Also Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, Connecticut Transit 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. (Telephone: 00-1-860-522-8101) is equally desperate.
Both of these men are anxiously waiting to hear from you.
Another option in lieu of visiting would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic-clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Rome.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Cc:
Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, Rome, Italy
Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, Moscow, Russia
President Nicholas Sarkosy, Paris, France
Peter Hendy, Commissioner Transport for London
Mr. Richard Sarles, Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority
Jay Walder, CEO, NY Metropolitan Transit Authority
Jeffery Mullen, CEO, Boston MBTA
Commissioner, Joseph Marie, Connecticut Department of Transportation
Capital Region Council of Governments
Connecticut Fund for the Environment
Transit for Connecticut
Mayor Eddie Perez, City of Hartford
MetroHartford International Business Center
Vicki Shotland, Greater Hartford Transit District
Business For Downtown
Capital City Economic Development Authority
State Transportation Committee
Secretary Ray LaHood, Secretary US Department of Transportation
Congressman John Larsen
Senators Chris Dodd & Joe Lieberman
Representative Jim O’Rourke
Various businesses that may be concerned about these issues
www.authorsden.com/mel
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Women in White Part 3
Women in White Part 3
Continued from Part 2
Mollie stared angrily at me. “I don’t appreciate your humor.”
“Look,” I said. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
“OK.” She glowered. ‘What’s his name?”
“Sammy. He works for Six Flags.”
“What’s he do?”
“He has a high position in advertising and promotion. In fact, he wears a dark suit to work.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Well, he’s tall; has a great personality. You’ll really like him. Plus, since he rides everywhere, he really needs to buy insurance and Progressive might just work for him.”
Mollie got excited. A new potential romance plus a sales conquest. This was perfect.
“What color hair does he have?”
“Actually,” I said hemming and hawing, “He’s kinda bald. But in a good way. He looks like Telly Salvalas. He has that same aura of hidden sexuality, the kind of bald head that women really go crazy over.”
“Oh Wow! I used to go crazy over Telly Salvalas when I was a kid. He was sooo sexy. When can I meet him?” She bounced up and down on her toes chirping in that annoying voice of hers. Then she hesitated. “He doesn’t use Connecticut Transit does he? I won’t go out with anyone who rides that blue-streaked nightmare.”
“Oh no! In fact, he hates Connecticut Transit. Seems like he had a traumatic experience several years ago when he was a kid.”
“That poor kid. What happened?”
“I’m not really free to discuss it. I’m sure you understand.”
“Well…OK.”
“Let me give him a call and see if he’s interested. I’ll let you know.”
As she walked away, I heard her singing,
“Give me a man who is a dark-suited man
Who will fight for the right to ride the rail.
A man who will ride, through the rain and the snow,
Through the sleet, through the slush, through the hail.
Oh! Doorway to doorway, it’s my way; it’s your way,
He’ll rides til he dies and he never will fail.
In that car he insures and he drives to the shore
Riding and riding and riding and riding forevermore.”
Shoulder to shoulder & bolder and bolder
He’ll glow as he rides to the fore!
Start me with one, a stouthearted man
And I’ll soon sell 10,000 more.”
Be careful Mollie, what you wish for, I thought.
Continued from Part 2
Mollie stared angrily at me. “I don’t appreciate your humor.”
“Look,” I said. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
“OK.” She glowered. ‘What’s his name?”
“Sammy. He works for Six Flags.”
“What’s he do?”
“He has a high position in advertising and promotion. In fact, he wears a dark suit to work.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Well, he’s tall; has a great personality. You’ll really like him. Plus, since he rides everywhere, he really needs to buy insurance and Progressive might just work for him.”
Mollie got excited. A new potential romance plus a sales conquest. This was perfect.
“What color hair does he have?”
“Actually,” I said hemming and hawing, “He’s kinda bald. But in a good way. He looks like Telly Salvalas. He has that same aura of hidden sexuality, the kind of bald head that women really go crazy over.”
“Oh Wow! I used to go crazy over Telly Salvalas when I was a kid. He was sooo sexy. When can I meet him?” She bounced up and down on her toes chirping in that annoying voice of hers. Then she hesitated. “He doesn’t use Connecticut Transit does he? I won’t go out with anyone who rides that blue-streaked nightmare.”
“Oh no! In fact, he hates Connecticut Transit. Seems like he had a traumatic experience several years ago when he was a kid.”
“That poor kid. What happened?”
“I’m not really free to discuss it. I’m sure you understand.”
“Well…OK.”
“Let me give him a call and see if he’s interested. I’ll let you know.”
As she walked away, I heard her singing,
“Give me a man who is a dark-suited man
Who will fight for the right to ride the rail.
A man who will ride, through the rain and the snow,
Through the sleet, through the slush, through the hail.
Oh! Doorway to doorway, it’s my way; it’s your way,
He’ll rides til he dies and he never will fail.
In that car he insures and he drives to the shore
Riding and riding and riding and riding forevermore.”
Shoulder to shoulder & bolder and bolder
He’ll glow as he rides to the fore!
Start me with one, a stouthearted man
And I’ll soon sell 10,000 more.”
Be careful Mollie, what you wish for, I thought.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A letter to Silvio Berlusconi
6/17/2010
Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi
44, Via Cristoforo Colombo
00147 Rome
6/17/2010
Dear Prime Minister Berlusconi:
Buongiorno. I was sorry to read about your many difficulties over the past few months. You have had much on your plate. From your broken nose of a couple of months ago to your recent sex scandals, your life has been filled with troubles and travails. One suggestion I have is to confer with one of our former Presidents. He may be able to offer some advice.
Non parlo l'italiano. I do not speak Italian very well so please forgive me.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory.
Because of the issues raised in the letter and because we all know that you have continued to keep the trains running on time—a contribution from one of your predecessors—I suggest that it may help you to take time from your busy schedule to travel to Connecticut to help us in our hour of need? Your suggestions for making Connecticut Transit buses not only run on time, but also even to run at all would be most helpful.
I know that Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department of Transportation located at 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. (Telephone 00-1-860-594-2000) would be most appreciative. He is at his wit's end trying to get the system functional.
You could also try Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, Connecticut Transit 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. (Telephone: 00-1-860-522-8101)
Both of these men are anxiously waiting to hear from you.
Another option in lieu of visiting would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic-clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Rome.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi
44, Via Cristoforo Colombo
00147 Rome
6/17/2010
Dear Prime Minister Berlusconi:
Buongiorno. I was sorry to read about your many difficulties over the past few months. You have had much on your plate. From your broken nose of a couple of months ago to your recent sex scandals, your life has been filled with troubles and travails. One suggestion I have is to confer with one of our former Presidents. He may be able to offer some advice.
Non parlo l'italiano. I do not speak Italian very well so please forgive me.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory.
Because of the issues raised in the letter and because we all know that you have continued to keep the trains running on time—a contribution from one of your predecessors—I suggest that it may help you to take time from your busy schedule to travel to Connecticut to help us in our hour of need? Your suggestions for making Connecticut Transit buses not only run on time, but also even to run at all would be most helpful.
I know that Commissioner Joseph Marie of the Connecticut Department of Transportation located at 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. (Telephone 00-1-860-594-2000) would be most appreciative. He is at his wit's end trying to get the system functional.
You could also try Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, Connecticut Transit 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. (Telephone: 00-1-860-522-8101)
Both of these men are anxiously waiting to hear from you.
Another option in lieu of visiting would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic-clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Rome.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Friday, June 18, 2010
An Open Letter to Ted Turner, Rupert Murdock and other media moguls:
An Open Letter to Ted Turner, Rupert Murdock and other media moguls:
As I write this, there is great controversy over the Supreme Court Decision of a few months ago, Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, legalizing corporate free speech. Although many have serious concerns about the damage to our free elections, I believe that it really makes no difference. So let the corporations buy as much time as they want before an election. For you see, no one believes you or them anyway!
You show the Tea Party yelling and screaming as if what they say has any logic or reason. You show questionable poll results that we all know are biased because they are dependent on whoever funds the poll, how the questions are structured and on may other variables that you refuse to reveal.
We recognize spin when powerful people either refuse to answer pointed questions and you let them slide, or your questions are so trite and meaningless that the answers are like sea foam, full of froth and bubbles.
The great reporters of the past, Edward R. Morrow, Walter Winchel, and Walter Cronkite are of another age and era. Now we have Entertainment TV and Inside Edition. Your reporters no longer dig for truth and the hidden story but focus on trite issues such as celebrity divorces, etc. Therefore, no one believes you!
Nobody believes you because you’ve already lost whatever bit of credibility you have had. You have traded whatever sense of ethics and responsibility you‘ve once had to provide honest reporting and quality programming for a quick buck. The swill that you feed us, Jerry Springer, Reality TV, etc., would not be fed to the hogs that produce my morning bacon. This swill is not fit for the swine of Gerasenes. Swill that the Prodigal Son would reject.
I suppose that there are a few unenlightened souls still chained to the back of Plato’s cave who continue to believe in the reality of your reflected shadows and illusions. But these few misguided souls are rapidly dwindling and soon all your profits and quick bucks will dwindle along with them. Because no one respects you!
So let the FCC relax media rules; it will not make any difference. Because we neither respect nor believe you!
As I write this, there is great controversy over the Supreme Court Decision of a few months ago, Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, legalizing corporate free speech. Although many have serious concerns about the damage to our free elections, I believe that it really makes no difference. So let the corporations buy as much time as they want before an election. For you see, no one believes you or them anyway!
You show the Tea Party yelling and screaming as if what they say has any logic or reason. You show questionable poll results that we all know are biased because they are dependent on whoever funds the poll, how the questions are structured and on may other variables that you refuse to reveal.
We recognize spin when powerful people either refuse to answer pointed questions and you let them slide, or your questions are so trite and meaningless that the answers are like sea foam, full of froth and bubbles.
The great reporters of the past, Edward R. Morrow, Walter Winchel, and Walter Cronkite are of another age and era. Now we have Entertainment TV and Inside Edition. Your reporters no longer dig for truth and the hidden story but focus on trite issues such as celebrity divorces, etc. Therefore, no one believes you!
Nobody believes you because you’ve already lost whatever bit of credibility you have had. You have traded whatever sense of ethics and responsibility you‘ve once had to provide honest reporting and quality programming for a quick buck. The swill that you feed us, Jerry Springer, Reality TV, etc., would not be fed to the hogs that produce my morning bacon. This swill is not fit for the swine of Gerasenes. Swill that the Prodigal Son would reject.
I suppose that there are a few unenlightened souls still chained to the back of Plato’s cave who continue to believe in the reality of your reflected shadows and illusions. But these few misguided souls are rapidly dwindling and soon all your profits and quick bucks will dwindle along with them. Because no one respects you!
So let the FCC relax media rules; it will not make any difference. Because we neither respect nor believe you!
Woman in White Part 2
Women in White Part 2
Slowly, oh so slowly, I trudged up the hill to my home. After a day on the road, I wanted nothing more than to relax over a glass of wine. I rounded the corner and saw to my dismay her!
It was the woman in white, Mollie from Progressive Auto Insurance. She had been showing up sporadically at my front door. Oh No! I thought. Another hassle with Mollie.
I approached the door. Mollie stood outside holding a broom that I had been using to sweep the stoop earlier that day. She tapped the broom on the steps spreading the already worn-out bristles.
She glared and snarled. “I see you’ve been out all day with that blue-streaked hussy. I spend hours waiting for you and you’re gone all day spending time with her! How could you be with her when she sells her self. She even paints ads all over her.”
“But I …”
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Mel,” she said, “I think it is time you made a commitment.” A beat.
Oh God! The C word.
“I don’t think I’ve had enough time yet to commit.,” I answered. “How can I commit? It’s too soon to buy Progressive Auto Insurance. I haven’t even gotten my car yet.”
“Well, if you weren’t so cheap, you’d get a car and than you wouldn’t have to spend all that time with that painted street-crawler, that Connecticut Transit bus. Than you could spend more time with Progressive.”
Being with this woman was like being in a Broadway musical. The devil made me do it. I couldn’t help it. I broke out into a song:
When the whippoorwills call, and evening is nigh,
I hurry to my blue heaven.
A turn to the right, and an ugly sight,
Will greet you in my blue heaven.
You’ll see a tattered rug, a frightening mug,
And a dreary room.
And a dizzy dame that wipes my frame,
With a worn-out broom.
Just Mollie and me, and Progressive makes three.
We’ll battle in my blue heaven.
I had to get Mollie off my back. But how? Then I had an idea.
To be continued…
Slowly, oh so slowly, I trudged up the hill to my home. After a day on the road, I wanted nothing more than to relax over a glass of wine. I rounded the corner and saw to my dismay her!
It was the woman in white, Mollie from Progressive Auto Insurance. She had been showing up sporadically at my front door. Oh No! I thought. Another hassle with Mollie.
I approached the door. Mollie stood outside holding a broom that I had been using to sweep the stoop earlier that day. She tapped the broom on the steps spreading the already worn-out bristles.
She glared and snarled. “I see you’ve been out all day with that blue-streaked hussy. I spend hours waiting for you and you’re gone all day spending time with her! How could you be with her when she sells her self. She even paints ads all over her.”
“But I …”
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Mel,” she said, “I think it is time you made a commitment.” A beat.
Oh God! The C word.
“I don’t think I’ve had enough time yet to commit.,” I answered. “How can I commit? It’s too soon to buy Progressive Auto Insurance. I haven’t even gotten my car yet.”
“Well, if you weren’t so cheap, you’d get a car and than you wouldn’t have to spend all that time with that painted street-crawler, that Connecticut Transit bus. Than you could spend more time with Progressive.”
Being with this woman was like being in a Broadway musical. The devil made me do it. I couldn’t help it. I broke out into a song:
When the whippoorwills call, and evening is nigh,
I hurry to my blue heaven.
A turn to the right, and an ugly sight,
Will greet you in my blue heaven.
You’ll see a tattered rug, a frightening mug,
And a dreary room.
And a dizzy dame that wipes my frame,
With a worn-out broom.
Just Mollie and me, and Progressive makes three.
We’ll battle in my blue heaven.
I had to get Mollie off my back. But how? Then I had an idea.
To be continued…
Thursday, June 17, 2010
A Letter to Vladimir Putin
6/17/2010
Prime Minister Vladimir Putin
Kremlin,
Sobornaya Ploshad,
Moscow, Russia
Dear Prime Minister Putin:
Dobroe utro. In reading a novel recently, Stalin’s Ghost, by Martin Smith, I was reminded of the Moscow Metro system. In that story, Stalin’s Ghost haunts the Moscow Metro.
First, I want to compliment you on your excellent transportation system. I have traveled in Moscow and have been enthralled by the beautiful Moscow Metro system. Your stations are lined with black marble from Georgia, white marble from the Urals, and pink marble from Siberia. The Kropokin Station had beautiful golden and crystal chandeliers, mosaics, and frescos line the walls of many of your stations.
Jan e govorju po-Russki. I do not speak Russian very well so please forgive me. I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. Is it possible for one of your staff to contact either or both of the following men and invite them to come to Moscow and tour your excellent system? Perhaps they can imagine the possibilities. These persons are:
Commissioner Joseph Marie, Connecticut Department of Transportation. The address is 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. Telephone 8~10 860-594-2000
The other is Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. Telephone: 8~10 1-860-522-8101
2. Another option in lieu of tours would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is
reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Moscow.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Prime Minister Vladimir Putin
Kremlin,
Sobornaya Ploshad,
Moscow, Russia
Dear Prime Minister Putin:
Dobroe utro. In reading a novel recently, Stalin’s Ghost, by Martin Smith, I was reminded of the Moscow Metro system. In that story, Stalin’s Ghost haunts the Moscow Metro.
First, I want to compliment you on your excellent transportation system. I have traveled in Moscow and have been enthralled by the beautiful Moscow Metro system. Your stations are lined with black marble from Georgia, white marble from the Urals, and pink marble from Siberia. The Kropokin Station had beautiful golden and crystal chandeliers, mosaics, and frescos line the walls of many of your stations.
Jan e govorju po-Russki. I do not speak Russian very well so please forgive me. I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. Is it possible for one of your staff to contact either or both of the following men and invite them to come to Moscow and tour your excellent system? Perhaps they can imagine the possibilities. These persons are:
Commissioner Joseph Marie, Connecticut Department of Transportation. The address is 2800 Berlin turnpike, Newington, CT 06111, USA. Telephone 8~10 860-594-2000
The other is Arthur L. Handman, Executive Director, 100 Leibert Road, Hartford, CT 06141-0006. Telephone: 8~10 1-860-522-8101
2. Another option in lieu of tours would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is
reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Moscow.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Women In White
Women in White
(The counterpart to Men in Black)
I was planning my next bus trip when the doorbell rang. It was the woman in white. I had seen her many times on that Progressive auto insurance TV commercial. The one who talks to people about switching over to Progressive Insurance. The one with the collagen-stuffed lips. She stood at the door in her white uniform somewhat embarrassed while holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Are you Mel?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve have been so impressed with all the writing you are doing and I just had to meet you.”
Surprised and caught off guard, I didn’t know how to respond. She introduced herself as Mollie. “Here, I bought these flowers for you. I just had to meet you. I hope you got a new car.”
As I thanked her, she broke out into the following song:
“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with your limousine.
Let me hear you whisper, that you’ll buy the gasoline.
Keep those headlights burning and your hands upon the wheel.
Let me call you sweetheart. I’m in love with your automobile.”
I told her I was sorry but I still didn’t have a new one yet. She pouted with those botoxed-enhanced lips that reminded me of a swimming goldfish. “Oh, that’s OK!” she chirped. “We can handle that. We’ll just get you a car loan.”
I don’t know where it came from, my muse or wherever, but suddenly remembering my old car, I broke out in song.
“Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.
Let me hear you rattle as you used to do.
Keep your headlights burning and your taillights too.
Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.”
Unfortunately, she misunderstood and got into a huff because she thought I was calling her Lizzie. When we got that straightened out, she asked how I was getting around.
“I’m trying to use Connecticut Transit. But they don’t make it easy,” I answered.
“Oh! We insure them. They get unusually low rates.”
“Why is that?”
“Apparently their utilization rate is low. They don’t seem to drive the busses very much.”
(The counterpart to Men in Black)
I was planning my next bus trip when the doorbell rang. It was the woman in white. I had seen her many times on that Progressive auto insurance TV commercial. The one who talks to people about switching over to Progressive Insurance. The one with the collagen-stuffed lips. She stood at the door in her white uniform somewhat embarrassed while holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Are you Mel?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve have been so impressed with all the writing you are doing and I just had to meet you.”
Surprised and caught off guard, I didn’t know how to respond. She introduced herself as Mollie. “Here, I bought these flowers for you. I just had to meet you. I hope you got a new car.”
As I thanked her, she broke out into the following song:
“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with your limousine.
Let me hear you whisper, that you’ll buy the gasoline.
Keep those headlights burning and your hands upon the wheel.
Let me call you sweetheart. I’m in love with your automobile.”
I told her I was sorry but I still didn’t have a new one yet. She pouted with those botoxed-enhanced lips that reminded me of a swimming goldfish. “Oh, that’s OK!” she chirped. “We can handle that. We’ll just get you a car loan.”
I don’t know where it came from, my muse or wherever, but suddenly remembering my old car, I broke out in song.
“Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.
Let me hear you rattle as you used to do.
Keep your headlights burning and your taillights too.
Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.”
Unfortunately, she misunderstood and got into a huff because she thought I was calling her Lizzie. When we got that straightened out, she asked how I was getting around.
“I’m trying to use Connecticut Transit. But they don’t make it easy,” I answered.
“Oh! We insure them. They get unusually low rates.”
“Why is that?”
“Apparently their utilization rate is low. They don’t seem to drive the busses very much.”
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
A Letter to Nicolas Sarkozy
6/15/2010
President Nicholas Sarkozy
Palais de l'Elysée
Paris, France
Dear President Sarkozy:
Bonjour. Comment allez-vous? First, I want to compliment you on your excellent transportation system. I have traveled many times in France and am always impressed with how easy it is to get around, not only in Paris but in the rest of France as well. From the Metro and the RER trains to the RATP bus system, your transit system cannot be beaten.
Je ne parle pas Français tres bien. Please forgive my poor attempts at writing in French.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. On behalf of Connecticut Transit, I would like to express an invitation to come to Hartford, CT and tour the facilities of ConnecticutTransit. Please bring along staff from your excellent transportation system. I know that Connecticut Transit would welcome suggestions.
During your visit please feel free to stay with us in our large sunny guest room that overlooks beautiful blossoming cherry trees.
Would it be possible for you after touring these facilities to donate some of the Paris Metro staff’s time to travel to Connecticut to run a series of workshops for Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT in the USA. These training sessions would be to help Connecticut Transit “get it right.” In other words, could your staff consult with CT Transit to help them learn how to upgrade the Connecticut transportation system? As you will see, Connecticut Transit is toujours malade
2. Another option in lieu of training sessions would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Paris.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
President Nicholas Sarkozy
Palais de l'Elysée
Paris, France
Dear President Sarkozy:
Bonjour. Comment allez-vous? First, I want to compliment you on your excellent transportation system. I have traveled many times in France and am always impressed with how easy it is to get around, not only in Paris but in the rest of France as well. From the Metro and the RER trains to the RATP bus system, your transit system cannot be beaten.
Je ne parle pas Français tres bien. Please forgive my poor attempts at writing in French.
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT, USA that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. On behalf of Connecticut Transit, I would like to express an invitation to come to Hartford, CT and tour the facilities of ConnecticutTransit. Please bring along staff from your excellent transportation system. I know that Connecticut Transit would welcome suggestions.
During your visit please feel free to stay with us in our large sunny guest room that overlooks beautiful blossoming cherry trees.
Would it be possible for you after touring these facilities to donate some of the Paris Metro staff’s time to travel to Connecticut to run a series of workshops for Connecticut Transit located in Hartford, CT in the USA. These training sessions would be to help Connecticut Transit “get it right.” In other words, could your staff consult with CT Transit to help them learn how to upgrade the Connecticut transportation system? As you will see, Connecticut Transit is toujours malade
2. Another option in lieu of training sessions would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling past traffic clogged cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to over the ocean to Paris.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Monday, June 14, 2010
Men in Black
By
Mel Hathorn
I had a strange dream (some would call this a nightmare) last night. I dreamt I was watching TV and the Six Flags commercial seen all over the Northeast came on. This is the ad where the little old man in a black suit jumps in the air, clicks his heels together and screeches, "More rides! More Fun!” Scenes of a roller coaster and various other rides follow his idiotic dancing.
Suddenly to my surprise, the little ole man jumped out of the TV screen and stood before me. He introduced himself as Sammy. We conversed for a while. He then told me of a traumatic experience he had when a child. It seems that his father sent him to the store for some bread. As a result of that horrible experience, he wrote a song about it—I guess you get your therapy where you can.
Anyway, he regressed in age to a little boy and still wearing his black suit sang to me the following song, titled The Connecticut Transit Song. This song so familiar to children causes them to wonder who Sammy was. Well here is the answer.
The Connecticut Transit (CT) Song
This is a story about Sammy, his father sent him out for some bread.
But he did not feel like walking, he thought he’d take the bus instead.
So he said,
“If I rode a bus, I could ride to the store, ride to the store, ride to the store, for my father.”
“So Sammy waited a long, long time,
But the bus never came along.
And the rains came down and the floods came up
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I were a fish I could swim to the store…father.’”
(It wasn’t bad enough that his voice hadn’t regressed along with his age; it was still the same scratchy voice. What was really annoying was the wiggling hand motions that children use when singing this song.)
He continued.
“And the sun came out and the ground dried up,
But the bus never came along.
And the flies buzzed, swarmed and bit him hard,
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I was a bug, I could crawl to the store…father.’”
Here Sammy made hunching, crawling motions as if he were an insect.
“And the breeze came out and it cooled him down,
But the bus never came along,
And the birds flew over, and they dropped their load,
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I was a bird, I could fly to the store…father.’”
Here he made those annoying flapping motions with his arms.
“Then Sammy remembered about the loaf of bread
And knew he better move along.
And as he walked, he arrived home late
And he made up a brand new song.
‘I sad I’m me and I stood for the bus…father.’”
“I never no more ‘ill wait for the bus…father.”
Sammy continued the story. He was sent to bed without his supper, but he did get a slice of the bread he brought home and a glass of water. He concluded his story and said that he was working for Six Flags because he got to more places faster using their rides than he did with Connecticut Transit.
Mel Hathorn
I had a strange dream (some would call this a nightmare) last night. I dreamt I was watching TV and the Six Flags commercial seen all over the Northeast came on. This is the ad where the little old man in a black suit jumps in the air, clicks his heels together and screeches, "More rides! More Fun!” Scenes of a roller coaster and various other rides follow his idiotic dancing.
Suddenly to my surprise, the little ole man jumped out of the TV screen and stood before me. He introduced himself as Sammy. We conversed for a while. He then told me of a traumatic experience he had when a child. It seems that his father sent him to the store for some bread. As a result of that horrible experience, he wrote a song about it—I guess you get your therapy where you can.
Anyway, he regressed in age to a little boy and still wearing his black suit sang to me the following song, titled The Connecticut Transit Song. This song so familiar to children causes them to wonder who Sammy was. Well here is the answer.
The Connecticut Transit (CT) Song
This is a story about Sammy, his father sent him out for some bread.
But he did not feel like walking, he thought he’d take the bus instead.
So he said,
“If I rode a bus, I could ride to the store, ride to the store, ride to the store, for my father.”
“So Sammy waited a long, long time,
But the bus never came along.
And the rains came down and the floods came up
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I were a fish I could swim to the store…father.’”
(It wasn’t bad enough that his voice hadn’t regressed along with his age; it was still the same scratchy voice. What was really annoying was the wiggling hand motions that children use when singing this song.)
He continued.
“And the sun came out and the ground dried up,
But the bus never came along.
And the flies buzzed, swarmed and bit him hard,
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I was a bug, I could crawl to the store…father.’”
Here Sammy made hunching, crawling motions as if he were an insect.
“And the breeze came out and it cooled him down,
But the bus never came along,
And the birds flew over, and they dropped their load,
And he made up a brand new song.
‘If I was a bird, I could fly to the store…father.’”
Here he made those annoying flapping motions with his arms.
“Then Sammy remembered about the loaf of bread
And knew he better move along.
And as he walked, he arrived home late
And he made up a brand new song.
‘I sad I’m me and I stood for the bus…father.’”
“I never no more ‘ill wait for the bus…father.”
Sammy continued the story. He was sent to bed without his supper, but he did get a slice of the bread he brought home and a glass of water. He concluded his story and said that he was working for Six Flags because he got to more places faster using their rides than he did with Connecticut Transit.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A letter to the Boston Transit Authority
Mr. Jeffery Mullan, CEO
MBTA
10 Park Place, Suite 3910
Boston, MA 02116
Dear Mr. Mullan:
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. Would it be possible to donate some of your staff’s time to come to Connecticut to run a series of workshops for Connecticut Transit? These training sessions would be to help Connecticut Transit “get it right.” In other words, could your staff consult with CT Transit to help them learn how to upgrade the Connecticut transportation system?
2. Another option in lieu of training sessions would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling at faster speed then private cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to Boston.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
MBTA
10 Park Place, Suite 3910
Boston, MA 02116
Dear Mr. Mullan:
I have enclosed an open letter to Connecticut Transit that is self-explanatory. Because of the issues raised in the letter, I am contacting you and asking for one of the following:
1. Would it be possible to donate some of your staff’s time to come to Connecticut to run a series of workshops for Connecticut Transit? These training sessions would be to help Connecticut Transit “get it right.” In other words, could your staff consult with CT Transit to help them learn how to upgrade the Connecticut transportation system?
2. Another option in lieu of training sessions would be to sponsor a series of “live-aid concerts.” These concerts would raise money to revamp and upgrade the CT transportation system. Imagine U-2—the band, not your metro line—performing.
Everyday, cars clog our highways spewing out noxious fumes. One is reminded of spice-laden camels raising clouds of dust and sand crossing the desert toward Cairo. One is reminded of produce-laden and donkey-drawn carts braying and brawling traveling at faster speed then private cars.
One is also unfortunately reminded of the factory smokestacks of West Virginia and a coal-choked sky. Only instead of several large smokestacks, we in Connecticut face hundreds, if not thousands of tiny smokestacks from private vehicles. Fumes that if unchecked will surely drift to Boston.
Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Mel Hathorn
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
An Open Letter To Connecticut Transit
When my car died at 239,000 miles, I decided to try public transportation. For several weeks, I experimented with public transportation. Living in Cromwell, CT, I used two systems, Connecticut Transit and Middletown Area Transit (MAT). I had wonderful results with MAT. The service to Middletown and the surrounding neighborhoods was excellent! Buses ran almost every 30 – 40 minutes from a shopping plaza that is just a short walk from my home. The bus ride can be a little bouncy, but there you have it. With a bus pass, the rates were reasonable.
I found I could be in Middletown in 20 minutes. I could shop, patronize the many fine restaurants, go to a movie, visit the bookstore at Wesleyan University, sit at a sidewalk café or coffee shop or even attend programs at Wesleyan or the public library. It was wonderful! Who needs a car when all these attractions are so close? The only drawback was no weekend service or service after 6 pm.
I wish I could say the same for Connecticut Transit (CTT). My experience with CTT showed me that your system left a lot to be desired. I learned that planning a trip to the Hartford area required the logistical skills of Agamemnon planning the Trojan War. He only had a thousand ships to worry about; I had to deal with CTT. The problem was not how to get around Hartford; the problem was how to get to Hartford.
An express commuter bus to Hartford stops within a short walk from my home. This bus ends at the Old State House, a transportation hub. Unfortunately, the last express bus leaves for Hartford at 8:07 am and the earliest express bus returns from Hartford at 3:30 pm. There is no middle of day, night, or weekend service.
Was there an alternative for getting into Hartford at these times? There is a number 55 bus leaving Middletown to Hartford on a regular schedule. One of the stops for this bus is Cromwell Center, a three-mile walk from my home. That would not work very well either. Again, no evening or weekend service.
I decided to try a hypothetical experiment. How would I get to a doctor’s appointment from Cromwell to the Hartford Hospital at 1:30 pm on a weekday?
I went to your CTT website and used your trip planner. It said to enter my starting point. I plugged in the Cromwell Stop and Shop on route 372—across from the express stop near my home. The Trip Planner could locate many Stop and Shops; it could not find the Cromwell Stop and Shop. I wonder if the folks at the Cromwell Stop and Shop would be very happy about this. I was unable to locate any bus stop into Hartford other than the express bus that was within a reasonable walking distance from my house.
Then I had a brainstorm! I plugged in the commuter parking lot at the intersection of I91 and route 372 (exit 21). This is 2.5 miles from my home. Now, one would think that a commuter parking lot would have many buses leaving for Hartford. One would think.
The trip planner did locate the commuter parking lot. I plugged in my starting point; commuter parking lot, Cromwell; the destination; Hartford Hospital, Time; 1:30 pm. You gave me a couple of options. I have quoted from your website:
Option 1: “Summary: Your trip has 1 transfer and will take 1 hour[s] and 6 minute[s]. Depart 1:06a from stop Webster square rd & Mill St. on line BK Berlin turnpike inbound. Arrive at stop bank St. & main St. Transfer at stop Bank St. & Main St. to line 41 New Britain inbound. Arrive at final destination stop retreat Ave & Seymour St.
Time: 1:06p Arrival: 2:23p Duration: 76 min. Transfers: 1 Walking Distance: 2.8 miles
This option requires a 3-mile walk from the parking lot to the bus pickup point in addition to the 3-mile walk from home to the commuter parking lot.
Option number 2: “Summary: Your trip has 2 transfers and will take 2 hour[s] and 30 minute[s]. Depart 1:55p from stop Berlin rd & Wal- mart (Cromwell) on line BK Berlin turnpike outbound. Arrive 2:20p at stop Pascoe Pl & price chopper. Transfer 3:14p at stop Pascone Pl & price chopper to line 47 Franklin Avenue outbound. Arrive 3:22p at stop Maselli Rd & Stew Leonards. Transfer 3:44p at stop Maselli rd & stew Leonards to line 47 Franklin Avenue inbound (no cost). Arrive 4:25p at final destination stop Franklin Ave & maple Ave. this trip has 1 no-cost transfer.
Time: 1:55p Arrival: 4:25p Duration: 150 min. Transfers: 2 Walking Distance: 0.55 miles
This option takes more time but has a walking distance of a 3-mile walk plus a half-mile walk to the pickup point. A shorter walk but more time.
Eisenhower had an easier time planning the Normandy Invasion than I have taking a bus into Hartford. Just because it took Agamemnon 1000 ships to get to Troy doesn’t mean it should take me 1000 busses to get to Hartford.
Needless to say, I didn’t bother searching for a return route.
In fairness, CTT does offer a cab ride to a doctor’s office PROVIDED one has a bus pass and tell you their employer. I guess that leaves the unemployed, the elderly and retired folks out of luck. Dial-a Ride may be available for the elderly but not for the rest of us. Assuming it is still funded.
One can only conclude that you at CTT do not think that Hartford has enough attractions to entice the public to visit during the day. Otherwise, why wouldn’t you have midday, night or weekend bus service? Is the Hartford Chamber of Commerce or the Downtown Council aware of your attitude? So forget about stepping out on the town on a Saturday night. It ain’t gonna happen.
If the Hartford area is to become a world-class region, it must have a world-class transportation system. Every other major city has a safe and reliable transportation system that operates until 11 or 12 at night.. London with its spread-out neighborhoods, Paris, with it sprawling arrondissements, even Boston, Washington, New York and Chicago have convenient transportation. Why not Hartford?
Therefore, I have only a couple of recommendations for MAT. Add night and weekend service so the public can sample all the good restaurants and activities in Middletown. It also wouldn’t hurt to put some new shocks on your busses.
For you folks at CTT? The suggestions could take up half again as many pages as this work. First, add middle of the day service from the surrounding towns. Second, add night and weekend service.
There’s a new paradigm out there folks! I don’t know if you have people from the 1950s doing your planning but you have to get up to date. You gotta get with the times! Stop using the same assumptions you used back in the 50s. People work at different times! People work on different days! People want freedom to come and go. They don't wanna spend hours in transit to get to a doctor’s appointment.
So forget Sarah Palin’s death panels; she doesn’t need em. All she needs is a granny with a walker, a three-mile hike, a scorching July day and Connecticut Transit.
I found I could be in Middletown in 20 minutes. I could shop, patronize the many fine restaurants, go to a movie, visit the bookstore at Wesleyan University, sit at a sidewalk café or coffee shop or even attend programs at Wesleyan or the public library. It was wonderful! Who needs a car when all these attractions are so close? The only drawback was no weekend service or service after 6 pm.
I wish I could say the same for Connecticut Transit (CTT). My experience with CTT showed me that your system left a lot to be desired. I learned that planning a trip to the Hartford area required the logistical skills of Agamemnon planning the Trojan War. He only had a thousand ships to worry about; I had to deal with CTT. The problem was not how to get around Hartford; the problem was how to get to Hartford.
An express commuter bus to Hartford stops within a short walk from my home. This bus ends at the Old State House, a transportation hub. Unfortunately, the last express bus leaves for Hartford at 8:07 am and the earliest express bus returns from Hartford at 3:30 pm. There is no middle of day, night, or weekend service.
Was there an alternative for getting into Hartford at these times? There is a number 55 bus leaving Middletown to Hartford on a regular schedule. One of the stops for this bus is Cromwell Center, a three-mile walk from my home. That would not work very well either. Again, no evening or weekend service.
I decided to try a hypothetical experiment. How would I get to a doctor’s appointment from Cromwell to the Hartford Hospital at 1:30 pm on a weekday?
I went to your CTT website and used your trip planner. It said to enter my starting point. I plugged in the Cromwell Stop and Shop on route 372—across from the express stop near my home. The Trip Planner could locate many Stop and Shops; it could not find the Cromwell Stop and Shop. I wonder if the folks at the Cromwell Stop and Shop would be very happy about this. I was unable to locate any bus stop into Hartford other than the express bus that was within a reasonable walking distance from my house.
Then I had a brainstorm! I plugged in the commuter parking lot at the intersection of I91 and route 372 (exit 21). This is 2.5 miles from my home. Now, one would think that a commuter parking lot would have many buses leaving for Hartford. One would think.
The trip planner did locate the commuter parking lot. I plugged in my starting point; commuter parking lot, Cromwell; the destination; Hartford Hospital, Time; 1:30 pm. You gave me a couple of options. I have quoted from your website:
Option 1: “Summary: Your trip has 1 transfer and will take 1 hour[s] and 6 minute[s]. Depart 1:06a from stop Webster square rd & Mill St. on line BK Berlin turnpike inbound. Arrive at stop bank St. & main St. Transfer at stop Bank St. & Main St. to line 41 New Britain inbound. Arrive at final destination stop retreat Ave & Seymour St.
Time: 1:06p Arrival: 2:23p Duration: 76 min. Transfers: 1 Walking Distance: 2.8 miles
This option requires a 3-mile walk from the parking lot to the bus pickup point in addition to the 3-mile walk from home to the commuter parking lot.
Option number 2: “Summary: Your trip has 2 transfers and will take 2 hour[s] and 30 minute[s]. Depart 1:55p from stop Berlin rd & Wal- mart (Cromwell) on line BK Berlin turnpike outbound. Arrive 2:20p at stop Pascoe Pl & price chopper. Transfer 3:14p at stop Pascone Pl & price chopper to line 47 Franklin Avenue outbound. Arrive 3:22p at stop Maselli Rd & Stew Leonards. Transfer 3:44p at stop Maselli rd & stew Leonards to line 47 Franklin Avenue inbound (no cost). Arrive 4:25p at final destination stop Franklin Ave & maple Ave. this trip has 1 no-cost transfer.
Time: 1:55p Arrival: 4:25p Duration: 150 min. Transfers: 2 Walking Distance: 0.55 miles
This option takes more time but has a walking distance of a 3-mile walk plus a half-mile walk to the pickup point. A shorter walk but more time.
Eisenhower had an easier time planning the Normandy Invasion than I have taking a bus into Hartford. Just because it took Agamemnon 1000 ships to get to Troy doesn’t mean it should take me 1000 busses to get to Hartford.
Needless to say, I didn’t bother searching for a return route.
In fairness, CTT does offer a cab ride to a doctor’s office PROVIDED one has a bus pass and tell you their employer. I guess that leaves the unemployed, the elderly and retired folks out of luck. Dial-a Ride may be available for the elderly but not for the rest of us. Assuming it is still funded.
One can only conclude that you at CTT do not think that Hartford has enough attractions to entice the public to visit during the day. Otherwise, why wouldn’t you have midday, night or weekend bus service? Is the Hartford Chamber of Commerce or the Downtown Council aware of your attitude? So forget about stepping out on the town on a Saturday night. It ain’t gonna happen.
If the Hartford area is to become a world-class region, it must have a world-class transportation system. Every other major city has a safe and reliable transportation system that operates until 11 or 12 at night.. London with its spread-out neighborhoods, Paris, with it sprawling arrondissements, even Boston, Washington, New York and Chicago have convenient transportation. Why not Hartford?
Therefore, I have only a couple of recommendations for MAT. Add night and weekend service so the public can sample all the good restaurants and activities in Middletown. It also wouldn’t hurt to put some new shocks on your busses.
For you folks at CTT? The suggestions could take up half again as many pages as this work. First, add middle of the day service from the surrounding towns. Second, add night and weekend service.
There’s a new paradigm out there folks! I don’t know if you have people from the 1950s doing your planning but you have to get up to date. You gotta get with the times! Stop using the same assumptions you used back in the 50s. People work at different times! People work on different days! People want freedom to come and go. They don't wanna spend hours in transit to get to a doctor’s appointment.
So forget Sarah Palin’s death panels; she doesn’t need em. All she needs is a granny with a walker, a three-mile hike, a scorching July day and Connecticut Transit.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Proposed Constitutional Amendment to Eliminate Corporate Personhood
The following is a Proposed Amendment to the Unites States Constitution. With the recent Supreme Court decision, Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, legalizing corporate free speech, it is time to consider an Amendment to the United Sates Constitution making corporate personhood unconstitutional.
PROPOSED AMENDMENT TO THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION
AMENDMENT XXVIII
"No corporation, or artificial entity, including but not limited to artificial intelligence, robotic devices, or cloned beings, shall be accrued the status of human personhood in the United States. Nor shall such entities be entitled to human rights as commonly construed either by law or common custom."
For more information on this proposal as well as the legal justification for it, see The Prisoner’s Dilemma by Melvin C. Hathorn. This book is easily obtained through many bookstores and many on-line sites.
The Prisoner’s Dilemma ISBN: 9 781593 306137
PROPOSED AMENDMENT TO THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION
"No corporation, or artificial entity, including but not limited to artificial intelligence, robotic devices, or cloned beings, shall be accrued the status of human personhood in the United States. Nor shall such entities be entitled to human rights as commonly construed either by law or common custom."
* * *
The Prisoner’s Dilemma ISBN: 9 781593 306137
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Corporation That Mistook Itself For A Person Part 2
Are corporations people? With the recent Supreme Court decision, Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, declaring that corporations have the same rights to free speech as we do, I decided to get a corporation’s viewpoint about his personhood. In Part 1, I interviewed a typical corporation which we shall call Publius. That interview ended poorly for poor Publius. This takes place six months later.
The long winding lane was covered with cracking autumn leaves as my car wended slowly up the hill toward the large brick institution. After parking in a visitor’s spot, I entered through large wooden doors and approached the reception desk. A dour, hefty receptionist greeted me with a surly expression.
“May I help you?” she snarled.
“Yes, I am here to see Publius,” I answered.
It had been six months since Publius had been committed. I had heard through the grapevine that he had made significant progress and depending on the outcome of a review board, he could be released today. I was visiting him to wish him good luck in his sanity hearing which would be held this afternoon.
“First, you will have to be cleared by his Psychiatrist,” she answered. “I’ll let him know you are here. What is your name?”
“Mel Hathorn,” I answered.
She frowned. “Well…I don’t know if Dr. Macintire will want you to visit him. I understand that the patient still gets a little agitated at the mention of your name.” She picked up the phone and buzzed Dr. Macintire. “Doctor, there is a Mr. Hathorn to see Publius.” She nodded and after a short pause directed me to a small office down the hall.
Entering a small office, I saw a short little man seated behind a desk. He stood and greeted me with an out-stretched hand. “Have a seat,” he said, “Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank you. I’m good.”
“Normally,” he said, “I couldn’t allow you to meet with Publius because of his deep-seated hostility toward you. In this case however, I suggested to Publius that you two meet because it will help him deal with his deep anger and rage toward you. With his sanity hearing coming up, it would be to his advantage to try to overcome his fury. By confronting his anger, he’ll overcome it and act more appropriately.”
I looked around the office. In one corner I saw a bale of hay with a bullseye on it. The bullseye had several bullet holes and slash marks. My picture sat in the middle of the bullseye with a hatchet sticking out of it.
A poster on the wall with my picture had words like “slimeball, sleaze, bottom feeder” and a variety of other uncomplimentary expressions.
Dr. Macintire noticed me staring at the target and the poster. “Part of his therapy was venting and displacing his anger. I hope you aren’t offended.”
“Not at all. Tell me. How are his delusions coming along?”
“Well, we are still working on that. He still believes he’s a person just like you and me. However, we feel we can handle those issues on an outpatient basis. I’ll call him in and let’s see how he handles himself.”
The office door opened and in walked Publius. He hadn’t changed much since I last saw him. He still looked like an adult version of Sponge Bob Squarepants. His head and torso were combined in one unit. His skin appeared covered with a red rash that reminded me of the shingles.
His hair was kinky and curly and sat on his head like several satellite dishes. His eyes were long rectangular windows with a balcony in front of them. Behind the windows a gleam of what appeared to be flickering fluorescent lighting.
At the bottom of the torso, a large mouth opened and closed like the large doors of a modern office building. Many security gates stood behind the doors, almost as many as the teeth of a baleen whale.
His arms were the most amazing part of this apparition. Two gigantic wings containing several offices spread out at right angles from his torso. His elbows formed another right angle making a large U in front of him. His legs were wide columns that created a parking lot under him.
Publius muttering under his breath something that sounded like, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Well Publius,” said Dr. Macintire, “we want to see how you are handling your feelings right now. How are you feeling?”
“Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Very good,” said Dr. Macintire. “Why don’t the two of you take a walk around the grounds and try to see how you get along? See if you can work out your differences.”
It was a beautiful day outside. As we walked over the lush green lawn, Publius kept muttering his mantra. His eyes flickered like fluorescent lights burning out their ballasts. Unfortunately, his girth prevented him from seeing the ground directly in front of him. He failed to see a hoe with the blade laying upward in front of him.
Publius stepped on the blade and the hoe sprung up and whopped him in the head leaving a knot the size of a baseball. He ground his teeth and swept his winglike arms back and forth as he muttered through clenched teeth, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
We sat on a bench facing a small lake. He sat on the edge of the bench his back toward me. I broke the silence. “I understand from Dr. Macintire that you are about to leave hear this afternoon. I came to wish you good luck and I hope that your hearing goes well.”
He folded his arms as much as one could with two office wings and again muttered, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Are you beginning to realize that you are not a person?” I asked.
“Yes.…”
It was clear that he was simply going along with the program to get out. At that point I made a serious mistake. “You know, there are reasons other than the Thirteenth Amendment that disqualify you from being a person,” I added. “There is the Fourteenth Amendment as well.”
“What the hell do you mean?” His mouth was pinched and white with rage. He pursed his lips.
“Well, let me try to explain,” I answered. “The Fourteenth Amendment has the ‘equal protection clause’ in it. That means that under the Constitution, you and I have equal access to the law and its protections.”
“OK, What’s your point?”
“You see in 1954,” I answered, “the Supreme Court said that ‘separate but equal’ was unconstitutional.
“However, as a corporation, in reality you have many more resources to the courts, political people and the legal system than I do. You have more money, political access and power than me. This is a violation of the ‘separate but equal’ clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and is clearly a situation where I am discriminated against. This is clearly unfair to me as a person and it is a case of segregation.
“In other words,” I continued, “although you and I in theory have the same access to the law and its protections, in reality, I am segregated and discriminated against because of your superior resources.”
At this point I stood. Because Publius was sitting on the edge of the bench and because the bench was unanchored to the ground, my standing caused the bench where he was sitting to tilt almost on end. Publius slid off the bench into the pond.
His hair sizzled and crackled as the satellite dishes shorted out. His eyes momentarily blackened and his emergency generators took over as he stood and plodded toward me screaming and howling.
“What a piece of work I am, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable I am, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! I am the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals…” He picked up the hoe and swung it. He seemed a little upset.
Earlier I had learned that when Publius quoted the Bard, he was really losing it. As I ran for the safety of my car, I glanced up at Dr. Macintire’s window. He stood watching the sad scene shaking his head sadly.
The Corporation That Mistook Itself For A Person Part 2
“May I help you?” she snarled.
“Yes, I am here to see Publius,” I answered.
It had been six months since Publius had been committed. I had heard through the grapevine that he had made significant progress and depending on the outcome of a review board, he could be released today. I was visiting him to wish him good luck in his sanity hearing which would be held this afternoon.
“First, you will have to be cleared by his Psychiatrist,” she answered. “I’ll let him know you are here. What is your name?”
“Mel Hathorn,” I answered.
She frowned. “Well…I don’t know if Dr. Macintire will want you to visit him. I understand that the patient still gets a little agitated at the mention of your name.” She picked up the phone and buzzed Dr. Macintire. “Doctor, there is a Mr. Hathorn to see Publius.” She nodded and after a short pause directed me to a small office down the hall.
Entering a small office, I saw a short little man seated behind a desk. He stood and greeted me with an out-stretched hand. “Have a seat,” he said, “Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank you. I’m good.”
“Normally,” he said, “I couldn’t allow you to meet with Publius because of his deep-seated hostility toward you. In this case however, I suggested to Publius that you two meet because it will help him deal with his deep anger and rage toward you. With his sanity hearing coming up, it would be to his advantage to try to overcome his fury. By confronting his anger, he’ll overcome it and act more appropriately.”
I looked around the office. In one corner I saw a bale of hay with a bullseye on it. The bullseye had several bullet holes and slash marks. My picture sat in the middle of the bullseye with a hatchet sticking out of it.
A poster on the wall with my picture had words like “slimeball, sleaze, bottom feeder” and a variety of other uncomplimentary expressions.
Dr. Macintire noticed me staring at the target and the poster. “Part of his therapy was venting and displacing his anger. I hope you aren’t offended.”
“Not at all. Tell me. How are his delusions coming along?”
“Well, we are still working on that. He still believes he’s a person just like you and me. However, we feel we can handle those issues on an outpatient basis. I’ll call him in and let’s see how he handles himself.”
The office door opened and in walked Publius. He hadn’t changed much since I last saw him. He still looked like an adult version of Sponge Bob Squarepants. His head and torso were combined in one unit. His skin appeared covered with a red rash that reminded me of the shingles.
His hair was kinky and curly and sat on his head like several satellite dishes. His eyes were long rectangular windows with a balcony in front of them. Behind the windows a gleam of what appeared to be flickering fluorescent lighting.
At the bottom of the torso, a large mouth opened and closed like the large doors of a modern office building. Many security gates stood behind the doors, almost as many as the teeth of a baleen whale.
His arms were the most amazing part of this apparition. Two gigantic wings containing several offices spread out at right angles from his torso. His elbows formed another right angle making a large U in front of him. His legs were wide columns that created a parking lot under him.
Publius muttering under his breath something that sounded like, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Well Publius,” said Dr. Macintire, “we want to see how you are handling your feelings right now. How are you feeling?”
“Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Very good,” said Dr. Macintire. “Why don’t the two of you take a walk around the grounds and try to see how you get along? See if you can work out your differences.”
It was a beautiful day outside. As we walked over the lush green lawn, Publius kept muttering his mantra. His eyes flickered like fluorescent lights burning out their ballasts. Unfortunately, his girth prevented him from seeing the ground directly in front of him. He failed to see a hoe with the blade laying upward in front of him.
Publius stepped on the blade and the hoe sprung up and whopped him in the head leaving a knot the size of a baseball. He ground his teeth and swept his winglike arms back and forth as he muttered through clenched teeth, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
We sat on a bench facing a small lake. He sat on the edge of the bench his back toward me. I broke the silence. “I understand from Dr. Macintire that you are about to leave hear this afternoon. I came to wish you good luck and I hope that your hearing goes well.”
He folded his arms as much as one could with two office wings and again muttered, “Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.”
“Are you beginning to realize that you are not a person?” I asked.
“Yes.…”
It was clear that he was simply going along with the program to get out. At that point I made a serious mistake. “You know, there are reasons other than the Thirteenth Amendment that disqualify you from being a person,” I added. “There is the Fourteenth Amendment as well.”
“What the hell do you mean?” His mouth was pinched and white with rage. He pursed his lips.
“Well, let me try to explain,” I answered. “The Fourteenth Amendment has the ‘equal protection clause’ in it. That means that under the Constitution, you and I have equal access to the law and its protections.”
“OK, What’s your point?”
“You see in 1954,” I answered, “the Supreme Court said that ‘separate but equal’ was unconstitutional.
“However, as a corporation, in reality you have many more resources to the courts, political people and the legal system than I do. You have more money, political access and power than me. This is a violation of the ‘separate but equal’ clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and is clearly a situation where I am discriminated against. This is clearly unfair to me as a person and it is a case of segregation.
“In other words,” I continued, “although you and I in theory have the same access to the law and its protections, in reality, I am segregated and discriminated against because of your superior resources.”
At this point I stood. Because Publius was sitting on the edge of the bench and because the bench was unanchored to the ground, my standing caused the bench where he was sitting to tilt almost on end. Publius slid off the bench into the pond.
His hair sizzled and crackled as the satellite dishes shorted out. His eyes momentarily blackened and his emergency generators took over as he stood and plodded toward me screaming and howling.
“What a piece of work I am, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable I am, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! I am the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals…” He picked up the hoe and swung it. He seemed a little upset.
Earlier I had learned that when Publius quoted the Bard, he was really losing it. As I ran for the safety of my car, I glanced up at Dr. Macintire’s window. He stood watching the sad scene shaking his head sadly.
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