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Rigor and the Common Core: Just the Beginning - article by Barbara Blackburn in the NEW February issue of Teachers.Net Gazette.
addling to the Sea – The Educational Value of Unplugged Play by Todd R. Nelson in the JUST-POSTED February issue of Teachers.Net Gazette!
by ProfHardyParkerson,JD
Jan 18, 2014
ay Your Fees, Get Your Online Degrees!
by Hardy Parkerson - © Copyright 2013
Whatever happened to classrooms? Now it all done online. Whatever happened to classroom teachers? They used to be so fine.
Now it’s, "Pay Your Fees, Get Your Degrees, Online, from Law to Medi-cine." But tell me, Doc, ‘fore you cut on me, pl...See Moreay Your Fees, Get Your Online Degrees!
by Hardy Parkerson - © Copyright 2013
Whatever happened to classrooms? Now it all done online. Whatever happened to classroom teachers? They used to be so fine.
Now it’s, "Pay Your Fees, Get Your Degrees, Online, from Law to Medi-cine." But tell me, Doc, ‘fore you cut on me, please, That you didn’t get yours online!
by ProfHardyParkerson, J.D.
Jan 13, 2014
I saw in the local paper recently where a local Judge had set the bailbond of a young person at $5-Million. That defendant would have to pay a bailbondsman $600,000.00, twelve percent (12%) of the amount of the bond, or $600,000.00, to make that bond for him, notwithstanding that he is presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt...See MoreI saw in the local paper recently where a local Judge had set the bailbond of a young person at $5-Million. That defendant would have to pay a bailbondsman $600,000.00, twelve percent (12%) of the amount of the bond, or $600,000.00, to make that bond for him, notwithstanding that he is presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt by a jury of his peers. And of this $600,000.00, ...fee for a bond that the defendant would have to pay, the Judges who fix the amount of such bailbonds would get $25,000.00, of that money, even though the defendant would be presumed innocent; and they would be legally entitled to keep that $25,000.00, even if the defendant is found innocent by a jury. Consequently, the higher that the bonds are set, the more money that the Judges who fix the amounts of the bonds get. A Judge should never get money from a defendant, especially if the defendant is presumed innocent and, even more so, if the defendant is in fact acquitted of the charge and/or if the charge is dismissed. For Judges to do so constitutes a financial conflict-of-interest; and if lawyer's can't have financial conflicts-of- interest, neither should Judges be allowed to have them. There is a lot more to it all than this, but this is something to think about. One former Sheriff said that the present system is a way for bailbondspersons to "launder" money to Judges to fix the bonds as high as possible; and, if the defendant can't pay the amount to be charged by the bondspersons, the bondspersons simply advise the Judge who fixed the bond that the defendant can't make a the bond fixed, but that if the judge will lower it to $-X (X-dollars), the defendant will be able to make it; and the Judge can rest assured that the bondsperson will not ask for the bond to be lowered to an amount lower than the maximum that the defendant can make; and, further, the Judge knows that if he does what the bondsperson requests, that he and/or his office--the money belongs to the Judges, of which he is one--will make some money. Of course, there is more to it all than this, but this is something to think about. Again, I say, no wonder bailbonds are fixed so high! So-called Criminal "Justice" has become all about money.
So that, my friends, as you can see, is not the way it's s'posed to be! Sincerely, Hardy Parkerson, J.D. (Tulane Law, Class of 1966) Retired Lawyer, after 41 years at the Bar)
********** Ever since I was just a child, I have been taught what a great country the U.S. was because, among other things, we had the Bill of Rights. Now, it is in effect being ignored by the Courts-- especially the local courts--since it is treated just as if it were not there. That's one of the reason bail bonds are fixed so high in Calcasieu Parish, Louisiana, if not in all Louisiana parishes. In Calcasieu Parish, if you have money... and lots of it...you get justice. No money, no justice. There is more to it all than this, but this is some- thing to think about.
s/HMP
P.S.: Just a few days ago a young man's bond was fixed in the amount of $5-Million. That's the same as "NO BOND AT ALL!" Had he the money to pay a bondsman to bail him out of jail--remember he is "presumed innocent" by the Bill of Rights--the Judges who fixed the amount of his bail bond would get $25,000.00, of the money he had to pay to the bail- bondsman to get bonded out of jail. Justice is all about money in Calcasieu Parish. No money, no justice! However, if you've got money, honey, freedom's on this way; you can buy the best lawyer in town, or even the best deeyea; but you'll never get out of jail without paying those taxes on your bail. In Louisiana there's a tax on the exercise of your constitutional right to be free on bail while awaiting trial.
by ProfHardyParkerson,JD
Jan 9, 2014
Author: HardyParkerson
You Can't Keep a Good Man Down!
- by Hardy Parkerson, Atty.
As I sit at counsel table, I begin to write notes to my teenage client who is charged with armed robbery.
"You have the right to plead guilty and to ask for a pre-sentence investigation.
But if you plead guilty, you wai...See MoreAuthor: HardyParkerson
You Can't Keep a Good Man Down!
- by Hardy Parkerson, Atty.
As I sit at counsel table, I begin to write notes to my teenage client who is charged with armed robbery.
"You have the right to plead guilty and to ask for a pre-sentence investigation.
But if you plead guilty, you waive all errors (get no appeal).
Some cases can't be won.
We should have taken the offer.
We did not.
We just have to take our licks.
At least we tried!
I did my best to get you off.
It didn't work.
At least we tried!
We need now to decide if we have anything to gain by going to trial.
Our options are:
(1) Try the case; get found guilty, sentenced; appeal. We might win the appeal.
(2) Plead guilty, in which case we have no appeal.
If you are tried, we probably won't win the appeal, however.
Few people win appeals.
Some do.
There is no doubt about it: we were railroaded; you didn't get your legal rights.
You were denied your right to a hearing on discovery, a hearing on your Motion for Bill of Particulars, a hearing on your Motion to Quash and one on your Motion to Suppress Evidence.
To appeal, we must first get convicted and sentenced.
If you plead guilty, you waive all errors; get no appeal.
There is a beneficial effect to pleading guilty.
It's like 'We showed him. He buckled under, admitted his fault/guilt.'
Psychologists call it catharsis: a coming clean, a facing up to one's acts.
In other words, a guy who is obviously guilty but who won't admit it, makes them (the Judge) mad.
But if he 'fesses up,' comes clean, that's good. 'He's learned his lesson,' they say.
What we are doing here is personalizing the defendant, letting the Judge watch you until she gets to know you. From time to time, look at her; let her see you, look you in the face! Look her in the face, but not in the eye, lest she know what we are up to.
For all practical purposes, there is no jury that will find a defendant not guilty, unless the defendant can prove his innocence.
We screwed up when we did not take the deal the prosecutor offered. We took our chances, played our cards. We had a bad hand. We lost. I'm sorry! I am as sorry as you are!"
Whereupon the defendant writes "You did your job!" I feel good that he appreciates what I have done. I write him a one-word note: "THANKS!"
I continue to write notes to him.
"As a lawyer I try too hard sometimes. Trying too hard sometimes can hurt a lawyer's client. But I can't stand a weak-kneed 'plead-guilty' lawyer, afraid to go to trial, afraid to stand up to the Judge or to the D.A."
My young client then adds a footnote to my note.
"You have really helped me and my family out a lot and I am pretty sure they appreciate it as much as I do, Sir!"
I almost cry as I add my footnote to his: "THANKS!"
There is an art to picking a jury, but no science. As I voir-dire the jury panel, I try to get each of them to tell me their verdict will be "Not Guilty" if the State fails to prove its case beyond reasonable doubt. Some of them just cannot bring themselves to utter these two words, and these I know I need to get rid of.
As the jury selection continues, it becomes apparent that there are still more men called to serve on juries than women, and a disproportionate small number of Blacks, as compared with a cross-section of the community.
The prosecutor is attractive, a knock-out, and banters with the prospective jurors during voir-dire, especially the men. I watch her look them in the eye, and I think "Yeah! Yeah! I know what you're doing. You know how men are. Just the thought that they might, well, you know, let's say, win your approval, is enough to get them on your side."
Juries are a good thing! Picking juries gives the public a chance to speak out about its frustrations, beliefs, biases, political opinions, pent-up angers, and such. They talk. They're on stage. They get the attention they so much crave, the attention they are denied at home and on the job by spouse, family and fellow-workers. Even the greats of local government have to sit and listen to them; and they do so gladly, and show their appreciation and amusement at the jurors' witty and sometimes serious responses and comments. The jurors entertain the courtroom, the judge, the prosecutor, the audience, as well as their fellow-jurors. Their fellow-jurors laugh; a good time is had by all. It is like a party. It would be nice if we could break out a bottle of wine and have each a glass. Everybody gets his or her turn to say his or her piece, to sound-off, to tell his or her little story, always with lots of local color. Each juror waits with eager anticipation his or her turn to mount the soap-box. No one rushes the jurors. The judge does not cut off the jurors like she cuts off defense counsel. The prosecutor listens like a kid at the feet of his teacher as the teacher tells the afternoon story. All ears are turned towards the speaker. What performances! What soliloquies! What drama! What one-liners! Some of the humor would make Jay Leno envious. How the prosecutor palliates and palpates, massages and manipulates, coos and drools over each potential juror! Everyone gets his or her turn, and each tries to out-do the other. "Do you have anybody in law enforcement?" the prosecutor asks. Each knows some cop personally. Each has experienced some crime or another; if not directly, at least in his or her family; and each gets his or her turn to tell his or her story about it; to externalize it, along with all of his or her pent-up emotions and frustrations. Of course, none of this would ever make a juror not be fair. Of course not! Sympathy and compassion do not play a role, as each prospective juror will agree; and the school principal declares that he "will presume the defendant guilty, I mean, innocent, until proved guilty beyond a reasonable doubt."
Now the teacher is on stage once again. Even the librarian makes her debut. While the other jurors were performing, she was rehearsing her lines. She gives her performance. What a tour de force! Certainly she can be fair!
Only the old Black man is tight-lipped, as always. He has learned to keep quiet in the presence of such authority. He knows the power of the Judge, the prosecutor and even of some lawyers. But Breaux, the Cajun, says his piece, gives his performance. Like the teacher, the librarian and the others, he wouldn't miss it for the world.
Throughout the morning justice moves.
We picked the jury; whereupon we threw in the towel, entered a plea of guilty. The Judge sentenced the defendant to the minimum time: five years without benefit of probation, parole or suspension of sentence. She had no choice. She almost cried as she sentenced him. Talk about personalizing the defendant!
The day is done. I am now at the coffee shop where I have retreated to lick my wounds. I am down. I write. I write to myself things that are too personal for me to relate here. I call the Judge and prosecutor and court personnel names not fit for print. It's my way of dealing with defeat, externalizing. I'll get over it; I always do. It reminds me of something I once read: "’I am wounded, Father William,’ the young man said, ‘I will lie me down and bleed a while and rise and fight again.’"
I write to myself: "Don't get me for a criminal lawyer. The judges all hate me, and they'll take it out on you. I never understood how a judge got even with me by taking it out on my client. And instead of the reporter's writing about the real story, that the criminal justice system has broken down, that the criminal courts are so backlogged that hundreds, if not thousands, of felony cases die on the vine for want of prosecution, he'll put another slant on it, deal with personalities, not issues. He'll give me that old Black-lawyer job, the one the Black lawyer gets every time he goes to court and stands up and answers back to the White judges. Oh, yeah! They want him to cow- tow, to hold his hat in his hand and say 'Yazzah, Yazzah, Yo Honnah....' But he won't do it. He stands up like he has a right to be there; like he is as much a part of the court and the legal system as the judge; and they don't like that. Right now I'm so sick of it all! This judge thing has me so down I do not know what to do. I want to curse, but can't. The Judge can say what she pleases; I cannot. The law is too frustrating! Defendants have no rights, none. Judges can run over the law at will. One day I may look back and laugh, but not tonight." Finally, I say to myself, "Face it, Turkey! You lost! You were defeated! The game is over!" I tell myself, "This ain't my first rodeo, and it won't be my last." I kick myself. I tell myself that I have helped many, but this time I messed up my client when I turned down that plea offer. My client was railroaded. I would appeal but I have no confidence in the appeals court either. They just assign those appeals to inexperienced law-clerks who gloss over briefs with a broad brush and write "affirmed", "affirmed", "affirmed", "much discretion", "harmless error", ad infinitum, ad nauseam. I tell myself, “At least I was in there fighting for my client; there is something to be said for that."
I begin to sing to myself, "Life has its little ups and downs...."
I tell myself that I'll make it through the night O.K. and tomorrow I will have forgotten it all, and I'll be ready to go again.
As they say, "You can't keep a good man down!"
by ProfessorHParkerson, J.D.
Dec 27, 2013
HOW TO MAKE LOTS AND LOTS OF MONEY
IF A PENNY SAVED IS A PENNY EARNED, AS BEN FRANKLIN SAID, then a penny of sales tax saved is eleven cents ($.11) earned; and
Nine cents of of sales taxes saved is a dollar and nine cents ($1.09) earned; and
Ninety cents of sales taxes saved, is ten dollars and ninety cents ($10.90) ear...See MoreHOW TO MAKE LOTS AND LOTS OF MONEY
IF A PENNY SAVED IS A PENNY EARNED, AS BEN FRANKLIN SAID, then a penny of sales tax saved is eleven cents ($.11) earned; and
Nine cents of of sales taxes saved is a dollar and nine cents ($1.09) earned; and
Ninety cents of sales taxes saved, is ten dollars and ninety cents ($10.90) earned; and
Nine dollars of sales tax saved, is one hundred and nine dollars ($109.00) earned; and
Ninety dollars of sales tax saved is one thousand and ninety dollars ($1,090.00) earned; and
Nine hundred dollars of sales taxes saved is ten thousand and nine hundred dollars (10,900.00) earned; and
Nine thousand dollars of sales taxes earned is one hundred and nine thousand dollars ($109,000.00) earned; and
Ninety thousand dollars of sales taxes earned is one million and ninety thousand dollars ($1,090,000.00) earned; and
Nine hundred thousand dollars of sales taxes saved is ten million and nine hundred tousand dollars ($10,900,000.00) earned....
And so it goes!
Build up a resentment to having to pay nine-percent sales taxes for the privilege of being able to spend your disposable income after your income has already been taxed twice and begin to avoid paying sales taxes every way you can and see just how fast your bank account, savings and investments grow and grow and grow; and soon you will be rich...if you are not already.
And pat yourself on the back each time you’ve beaten those who OWN/run the government and get all the money paid in sales taxes. There is more to it all than this, but this is something to think about.
Brought to you by THE NATIONAL ANTI SALES TAX MOVEMENT.
Hardy Parkerson, Chm. National Anti Sales Tax (NAAST) Movement 127 Greenway Street Lake Charles, LA 70605
by Prof.HParkerson, J.D.
Dec 13, 2013
Cajun Country
by Hardy Parkerson © Copyright 2013 - All rights reserved.
When you're down in Louisiana On Interstate Highway Ten, We want you to feel welcome, So you'll want to come again.
As you pass through Cajun Country, You must stop and view the land; You must stop and meet the Cajuns And eat all the food you can.
<...See MoreCajun Country
by Hardy Parkerson © Copyright 2013 - All rights reserved.
When you're down in Louisiana On Interstate Highway Ten, We want you to feel welcome, So you'll want to come again.
As you pass through Cajun Country, You must stop and view the land; You must stop and meet the Cajuns And eat all the food you can.
Stop and have a shot of coffee, Anywhere along the way; And get the best of food and drink At any town cafe.
There are crawfish bisque and boudin, You can smell them in the air; There are crawfish, shrimp and oysters, Just waiting for you there.
We'll boil a pot of Cajun shrimp Out on the open file; You can eat them with your favorite drink, Strong or soft, as you desire.
And the Cajuns there will greet you And lighten up your load; And help you pass a real good time, As you pass through on the road.
You might meet Justin Wilson, Hear his silly Cajun jokes; Or you might meet Cajun Boudreaux, Or some other Cajun folks.
You can hear the French accordian Playin' JOLIE BLONDE at nine, When the Cajuns all kick off their shoes And have a dancin' time.
And if Lady Di were here with us, She'd eat some crawfish too; We'd teach her how to crack the tails Jus like the Cajuns do.
For the Cajuns like a FAIS DO DO, They like a BONNE SOIREE; The Cajuns like to eat and drink And the time away.
An alligator SAUCE PIQUANCE We'll cook for you, my frien’; We want to make you happy, As you pass on Interstate Ten.
by Prof. Hardy Parkerson
Dec 9, 2013
"Eva Farber's Poems"
-by hardy parkerson Copyright-rights reserved
Eva Farber wrote little poems. Now Eva Farber's gone. And 'though Eva's no longer with us, Her little poems live on.
Eva loved her little poems; Wanted to share them with you and me; So she left a simple will Leaving them to the University.
But t...See More"Eva Farber's Poems"
-by hardy parkerson Copyright-rights reserved
Eva Farber wrote little poems. Now Eva Farber's gone. And 'though Eva's no longer with us, Her little poems live on.
Eva loved her little poems; Wanted to share them with you and me; So she left a simple will Leaving them to the University.
But the University did not want them: These simple and heart-felt lays. They wanted modern poetry, About lesbians and gays.
So into the dumpster went the POEMS BY MRS. EVA FARBER, As Eva looked down from on high; And 'though Eva was in Heaven, Eva began to cry.
As God was passing by, he said, "Why, Eva, what can be wrong?" Eva wrung her hands and said, "They've thrown away my poems!"
God took Eva by the hand; Said, "Eva, don't you cry! I've got a good man on Campus down there, And tonight I'll send him by.
"For he's a dumpster-diver; And when all on Campus is quiet, He goes dumpster diving, Almost every night."
So God sent the dumpster-diver by To find Eva's little poems; And the diver went and found them, And then he took them home.
So Eva's little poems are still with us, And each evening at close of day We can still read Eva's little poems: These humble and heart-felt lays.
by Prof. Hardy Parkerson
Dec 9, 2013
Revise
Author: HardyParkerson Word count: 2260 Chapter 82 Some more LA GONZO LETTERS: Another Forced Write, or More. Quite some time has passed since I last did a Forced Write. [Computers play strange tricks on one, especially me.] Oh, well, I’ll just keep my fingers moving and see what words I can put on paper. Receiving the letter fro...See MoreRevise
Author: HardyParkerson Word count: 2260 Chapter 82 Some more LA GONZO LETTERS: Another Forced Write, or More. Quite some time has passed since I last did a Forced Write. [Computers play strange tricks on one, especially me.] Oh, well, I’ll just keep my fingers moving and see what words I can put on paper. Receiving the letter from Nicholas D. Pitree earlier this week was quite a surpise and a pleasure for me. I was quite surprised to have received it, especially since it bore almost $10.00, worth of postage—if not more. I want to make sure that I get those photographs printed out that Blaine posted on FACEBOOK when he was overseas. When a thought comes to your mind, write it down. Of course, it would be nice if one had an outline of something to write about before he started such a Forced Write. I hope this coming week that I can go to the Courthouse and once again explore the upper chambers of the old Courthouse on the south side of the building. I want to make sure to take along a broom and one of those tools used to pick up the work product of a sweeping job, so that I can do some work cleaning up that upper chamber. Boy, I miss those old-time typewriters! I think this coming week I will begin work to acquire another one. Also, this coming week I want to begin work on the Acton Hilldebrant-Deidre Johnson Project. [I will have to more particularly define this Project, but I have a vague description of it already in my mind.] When I was in about the ninth grade, my English teacher ordered us students in her class to write a poem. I “wrote” this one: The boy stood on the burning deck, Eatin’ peanuts by the peck; The flames rolled high, he would not go, Because he loved his peanuts so. Well, guess what! The teacher wrote on my paper, “You did not write this!” …something like that. Well, she was right, but at that time in my life I suppose I would never have thought of writing a poem. Pretty much the same thing happened to me as a senior at Lake Charles High School, when the English teacher assigned us the duty of writing a short story. Well, I had read one about a boxer in Readers Digest, so I took it and re-wrote it using my own personal experiences as an amateur and Golden Glove boxer. Well, once again, guess what! The high school English teacher—Miss Ebbie Whitten—wrote me such an evaluation of my offering; and, once again, I was told, “You did not write this!” Well, I had written it, but I suppose I did in fact violate the prohibition against plagarism. Stephen Berniard comes to my mind. I wonder why. Well, I could write some interesting pragraphs on Stephen Berniard, and the late attorney Reid Hebert too, as well as the late, great A. Lane Plauche; and of Charlie Viccellio and Ed Barnett and Clem Drewett and Jeep Laws and Jack Rogers, Bob McHale and Phillip W. St. Romain, Jr. What an era in Louisiana legal history, and what a great group of Louisiana lawyers…not to mention the late, great Francis Mire and the time the snake bit him and the jokes that other lawyers told about how the snake fell over dead on having bitten Francis Mire. And Robbie Morgan and Payton Covington were two great lawyers, and Robbie Morgan is even still practcing out of the also great John Derosier’s old law office right there behind Don’s Carwash on Ryan Street. That building where DeRosier had his law office, and where his son and Robbie Morgan now have theirs, once sat high on the west side of Ryan Street where the famous Don’s Car Wash is now located. Well, I suppose I have done at least a five minute Forced Write, and it would be nice to just go on and on with this “stream of consciousness”-type writing, but I suppose I shall bring this small installment of my "forced writes” to close and come again soon--but later--to continue on with such writing. Neverthheless, I’ll stop now and edit this piece; and perhaps then I can add what I have written here to FEAR AND LOATHING: The Louisiana Gonzo Letters, to be ediited, printed and “published’’. Well, talk atcha later, Cher; but as for now: me, I need to me one dem break. Talk atcha later! s/HMP Lake Charles, LA, this Saturday, April 27, 2013, at 11:55 A.M. ----------- E-Mail to the Great Jim Brown, sent at about 10:45 p.m., Friday, May 3, 2013, as follows: Dear Jim,
Just curious whether you've read my e-mail to you about Rick Richard, now of Lake Charles. Also, early--very, very early--this a.m., I read through the Tulane Yearbook (Jambalaya) for 1965, and saw pictures of you there with the write-up about the musical Fantasticks. Boy, weren't your so handsome and talented at that time of your brilliant career! And every time I drive down Holly Hill Road in Lake Charles, where my son Paul now lives, I pass the house of the lady where you and I went to visit her one time when you were running for--I believe--your second term as Secretary of State; and she wrote you a check for $5,000.00. Wow, what a nice contribution! I've forgotten her name. Can you refresh my recollection?
Also, I will never forget, when you first ran for Secretary of State, my taking you to meet the late, great Voris King once; and he gave you $500.00. I took you around that day and you raised about $1,300.00-$1,400.00, here in Lake Charles. I apologized for not getting you to meet more people, and you retorted that..."Hey, man, we've raised over a thousand dollars!" One of the donors was one of the late, great Judge G. William Swift's relatives-- son-in-law, I believe--who was a ranking person at the also late, great Chateau-Charles Motel between Lake Charles and Sulphur, on old Highway 90 West from Lake Charles.
I recall that that woman's giving you $5,000.00, made me want to do the same thing; but I gave it to you a bit at a time; and just before the election I called you and said, something like this: "Jim, I've given you about $3,000.00, already, a little at a time; and I have about $2,000.00, I can give you now; but, if you know you are going to win without it, don't take it; and if you know you are going to lose, even with it, don't take it--for I needed if also for my continued operations--but I said, it was yours if you needed it and wanted it; and you told me to take it and cover you on local radio stations and such, as the election was just a few days away; and I do remember calling Ed Prendergast and having him tell me all his advertising was sold out; and I do not recall whom else I talked to and whom I might have given all or a part of the $2,000.00, to; but I definitely wanted to be one of your "golden" $5,000.00-group of supporters, like the lady living on Holly Hill Road, whom we visited. By the way, you won! Yes, that was that second SOS race against the woman. How dare a woman think.... As Mitch would say, "Open parenthesis, humor intended, close parenthesis!"
Keep up the good work! If anybody asks you your age, don't lie, but just laugh and say, "Forty-nine, plus...." Again, keep up the good work!
Loyally yours,
Hardy Parkerson [(Tulane Law, Class of 1966 - Would-Be Politician Himself--but just did not have what it took. However, life ain't over yet. (Enallage: Like the late, great Johnny Myers said, "I ain't got no dogs in that fight!)]
P.S.: I am looking forward to seeing you soon and having at least a cup of coffee with you. [I'm 60-give-or-take-a- few years old/ And in great condition/ All I've been through before/ Has just been my tuition/ For the lessons I've learned./ Now I'm ready to go./ I'm on a mission!] HMP
SOME MORE TO THIS CHAPTER, AS FOLLOWS:
Hunger Strikes, Also Called “Hilo Sierras” [I’m going to have to write this like I did when I wrote “You Can’t Keep a Good Man Down!”] One of the benefits of a Hunger Strike, also called cryptically called a "Hilo Sierra", is that such keeps the striker focused on his or her goal. At the same time, the following considerations should be considered, as follows: When one is on a hunger strike, he can’t go around food. And if he is a family man, he can’t go around his wife when she has a church Sunday school class party scheduled at the family home, especially one that is of the “pot luck” type where everyone in attendance is to bring a “favorite dish” item; much like what happened the evening of Friday, May 3, 2013, at 6:30 p.m., when such a party was held at his and his wife’s family home; not, like what happened earlier today when he and his wife attended “Grand Parent’s Day” at Our Lady Queen of Heaven Catholic Church and School, where his and his wife’s grand daughter is a student, especially when the morning’s event, including a Catholic mass, among other things, was concluded by a noon luncheon in the school’s gymnasium attended by students, teachers, and the honoree grand- parents. Further, once the hunger strike is broken, then it is harder once again to get back on it and stay on it. Nevertheless, hunger strikes are not effective as efforts of political activism, unless they are in fact adhered to. There is no such thing as a perfect hunger strike, only effective ones. The more a hunger strike approaches perfection, the more effective it is in accomplishing it’s desire goal; nevertheless, nobody is perfect, not even a hunger striker. The hunger striker must just do the best he can trying to accomplish his mission. As I am wont to say, there is more to it all than this, but this is something to think about. And want’s more than I have mentioned above, I even broke the hunger strike when I went to Jennings with my wife and one grand-child yesterday afternoon to meet with our son and to return the grand child to him, when and where my wife made a decision what we all would go to the Waffle House reataurant and have a late afternoon meal. At first my plan was to just have coffee, and that is what I told her I wanted, to which she protested that I “...must order something to eat....”; which I did—some biscuits covered with gravy and coffee. My original plan was even then and there to put the food into my mouth, as if I were eating it, and then to remove it from my mouth by pushing it with my tongue from my mouth into a napkin and then disposing of the “soiled” napkins in the most secretive method I could devise under the circumstances. I am low, but I am not low enough to put in writing what some of my thoughts were about how to accomplish that. Well, guess what! I just could not carry through with this original plan and scheme to carry out my intended hunger strike and to conceal from my wife and son the fact that I was indeed on such a hunger strike, less one or both of them begin to fight againt me and my intentions. As they say, "You can’t keep a good man down!", so I’ll be back on my hunger strike--or hilo sierra--soon, having learned something more about such and the difficulty of following through on same. As I am wont to say, there is more to it all than this, but this is something to think about. Lake Charles, LA, this 3rd day of May, 2013, at 11:25 p.m. s/HMP ----------------- Saturday, May 4, 2013 Well, I am off my Hilo Sierra, but I'll get back on it tomorrow. As I say, it is hard to do a Hilo Sierra when you are around food. If one is going to do a HS, he needs to keep himself away from food. It's one thing to push a tray of food back through the barred window of a prison cell, but another thing to be at a party in one's own home with food all around, especially a "pot luck" party where everyone who comes is carrying a pot of delicious food and/or desserts And what's worse, is that once one breaks a Hilo Sierra, he then wants to eat even more, and the harder it is for him get back on his HS. Oh, well, such is the life of a would be politician and political activist! I'll make it yet! MOTL (I.e., more on this later!) s/HMP *****
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by Hardy Parkerson © Copyright 2013 - All rights reserved.
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