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Title: Weblogs - Charlotte's Web Blog Opinions of author and syndicated columnist Charlotte Laws covering topics involving philosophy, politics, law, education and current events. Particular focus given to animal rights, and environmental
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var TPApp = {}; TPApp.app_uri = "http://www.typepad.com/"; var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['t2._setAccount', 'UA-225723-36']); _gaq.push(['t2._setDomainName', 'none']); _gaq.push(['t2._setAllowLinker', true]); _gaq.push(['t2._setCustomVar', 1, 'Blog', '6a00d8341c853253ef00d8341cd88753ef', 3]); _gaq.push(['t2._setCustomVar', 2, 'Page Type', 'index', 3]); _gaq.push(['t2._trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); Charlotte's Web Blog A Conversation with Charlotte Laws about Politics, Social Issues, Current Events & Philosophy  Clowns, Casinos and Men Full of Cash It’s My Party and I’ll Crash If I Want To Religion vs. the Sprinkler Police Michael Jackson and Medical Paternalism Clueless at City Hall: Foreclosures and Tenants Hold the MSG: It’s Not Risk-Free Fred Travalena dies at age 66. Charlotte Laws, Michael Jackson and Brooke Shields Ed McMahon and Charlotte Laws Subscribe to this blog's feed Add me to your TypePad People list June 2010 February 2010 December 2009 October 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 CALACenter on Animal Liberation CHARLOTTE LAWS-POLITICAL SITEGreater Valley Glen Council DR. STEVE BESTPhilosophy, Animal Liberation GET VEGAN BLOGAnimals and Ecology JERRY BROWN'S BLOGMayor of Oakland LA DISPUTE RESOLUTIONMediation & Arbitration LEAPEnvironment and Animals OFFICIAL CHARLOTTE LAWS BLOGCharlotte's Other Blog REAL ESTATE - CALIFORNIANATIONWIDE REFERRALS REAL ESTATE - NATIONWIDE REFERRALSYourTopBroker.com WIKIPEDIAOnline Encyclopedia ANIMAL NEWS BBC BUZZLE MAGAZINE CNN NEWS DRUDGE REPORT E, THE ENVIRONMENTAL MAGAZINE FOX NEWS GLOBAL IDEAS BANK HUMAN BEAMS MAGAZINE L.A. CANYON NEWS LOS ANGELES DAILY NEWS LOS ANGELES TIMES LOS ANGELES VOICE MSNBC NEWS NEW YORK TIMES OAKLAND TRIBUNE OPINION EDITORIALS SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE SAN JOSE MERCURY NEWS THE JOHN & KEN SHOW THE SIMON MAGAZINE THE WEEK MAGAZINE TOLUCAN TIMES USA TODAY  CHARLOTTE'S WEB Please Blogroll Me!Blogroll Me! Oprah, Me and Reality TV Did I botch the casting call? Is my 16-page application lining
Mark Burnett’s bird cage? Is my piddling number of video votes causing late
night laughter among production staffers? These twenty-somethings, incidentally,
are way too young and thin to be making weighty decisions, such as who gets to
be on TV.
 I submitted my three-minute video online--as did thousands
of others around the country--with hopes of winning a spot on Oprah Winfrey’s
new reality program, Your Own Show. Ten
contestants will compete to host their own television show on Oprah’s new
network, OWN.
To increase my chances, I also auditioned in person in Laguna Niguel, California.
By 6 am, the line topped 1000; it looked like a string of hungry ants marching
towards a single breadcrumb.
A bouncy female applicant with a two foot billboard of Oprah
on her head told me she was channeling the star. She said she stalked Perez
Hilton for two years before landing a job with him. “Hire me. I’m broke,” was
the line that finally dazzled him into submission.
I had no signage, no aptitude for channeling and no patience
for stalking. I would have to work “in a suit” as they say; in other words,
“without props.” I stood with 11 other hopefuls in front of casting director Scott
Salyers and pitched my ideas in my usual Italian way, hands flying around like
a traffic cop on speed. I am only one quarter Italian. If I were 100%, I probably
would have slapped my competitors into San
Diego.
My show is about news and current events, but my real
strength is my interesting life, from my traumatic childhood and fight against
racism to my long line of intriguing occupations. I have been a private
detective, cab driver, aerobics instructor, Los Angeles Commissioner, FBI
lecturer, backup singer for an Elvis imitator, and author of a popular book on
how to get invited to the Academy Awards or meet the President. I also have extensive
experience as a television commentator; coincidentally my first TV appearance was
on Oprah’s show in the late 1980’s.
Casting director Scott was as hard to read as a calculus
textbook. I left unsure whether my pitch had hit the right note with him.
But later that day I received word that I been chosen for a
callback. An email followed, instructing me to come to a certain address, to
enter the back door only, and to speak to no one. The cryptic message could
have doubled as a ransom note or CIA communiqué. I tiptoed into the audition warehouse where I encountered a college-age
kid who asked my name. I ignored him. This must be a test, I thought, and I
will not succumb.“Excuse me. What’s your name?’ he asked a second time, then
third.
Finally, I whispered, “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”
He whispered back, “It’s ok. You can talk to me. I work
here. I have to check you in.”
Other applicants, seated nearby, chuckled at my blunder. I had
already gotten off on the wrong foot. Speaking of feet, I had mistakenly worn
my cheap shoes, and a nail from the sole was beginning to pierce my right heel.
They may say Payless now, but it’s pay later when you’re at a
make-it-or-break-it audition and your foot gets skewered like a tomato at odds
with a “Rock n Chop” knife set.
I gave my name to college boy and hobbled to my seat. There
were two interviewers: a female and a male, both in their 20’s. The female
spent lots of time with applicants, but the male--a no-nonsense dude named Dave--whisked
people in and out as if he were a contestant on Minute to Win It. I was matched with Dave, which meant I needed to
be in turbo mode.
Dave led me to a chairless room with a camera and announced.
“I love to stand, even when I don’t have to. Donald Rumsfeld is the same way. I’m
just like him, You know, the former Secretary of Defense.”
Rumsfeld’s name has been connected with torture. Guantanamo Bay interrogators would induce stress in
prisoners by forcing them to remain standing in the same position for hours. Rumsfeld
would shrug it off with an attitude of “Heck, no big deal. I stand 8 to 10 hours
a day.”
Dave was my Rummy, and the room was my very own Guantanamo Bay. The good news was that I would be
out of the joint before my foot could turn blue and fall off. The bad news was
I had a minute to win it.
The on-camera interview got off to a rocky start when I was
asked to state my age two times. Trust me, it’s an age I wouldn’t want to reveal
once, let alone twice. All in all, it was a typical Hollywood
audition: I assume I said all the wrong things and forgot to say all the right
things. I was told I would hear in two weeks.
If a skinny college kid doesn’t call with good news, then I am
a reality show reject. And frankly, I’ll blame the whole thing on the shoes.
________________ You can view my audition video at
this link. 05:23 PM in Current Affairs, Current Events, Entertainment, Television | Permalink | Comments (4) Clowns, Casinos and Men Full of Cash I recently visited Las
Vegas and found it had morphed from a hay ride into a bullet
train, and from Hookers-ville into Kids R Us. When I lived there in 1980, it
was all about high rollers, call girls, comps, 1950’s décor, being laid back and
knowing everyone who worked on the strip. It was a small town in big city
clothes. Today, freebies are rare, and fast food is plentiful. Billboards reveal
“ostentation in overdrive” with flashing fluorescents and snappy video
presentations. Casino tables are relative “dead zones,” so hotels charge for
everything else, from shows to monorail rides. It’s a supersized theme park
with focus on the family.  Thirty years ago, I might have stumbled upon the Dirty Old
Man Delegation, the Boozers Brigade or the Strippers Symposium. But during this
trip I naturally found a kiddie-land favorite: the Annual Clown Convention, which
was held at the Orleans
hotel. I confronted a sea of painted faces, kooky costumes and bulbous, red
noses; and got to root for my favorite contestant in the “Top Clown” competition.
Most had “silly billy” names, such as Cricket, Snickers and Krinkles.
“I love kids. I had three for breakfast,” veteran clown Jim
Howle told five children sitting before him on a makeshift stage. He pulled paper
from his shoe, “Here’s a footnote.”
A pink clown whispered to me, “I’m a beginner and earn a
living as a waitress and construction worker.” A brightly dressed Charlie
Chaplin said, “I’m full time with a business license. I do 300 performances
each year.”
Tables in the back of the room offered novelty items for
sale from lime green wigs to Technicolor costumes, magic tricks and books.
“Here Comes the Clown,” “Talk like a Dummy” and “Stop that Heckler” were a few
of the titles.
As I watched clowns compete, I remembered my first visit to Las Vegas in 1977 when I
was a sweet seventeen. I surely looked underage with my bouncy pigtails and running
shorts as I trotted through Caesar’s Palace where I was staying with my aunt.
An “over 60” man named Fred stopped me.
“I just won 13-thousand dollars gambling and would like to
buy you a diamond bracelet. No strings attached.”
“Yeah, right.” I flashed a skeptical grin.
Fred led me to a hotel shop where I was gifted an $800
trinket. Then he wanted to gamble and nudged me from table to table stuffing chips
in my purse, which I later tallied to be $2900. After this, he bought me clothing
totaling $4000 at a Caesar’s boutique and topped off the two hour adventure
with the words, “Well, it was nice meeting you, young lady, but I’d better be
going.”
I sprinted back to my room and dumped the loot at my aunt’s
feet. She shook her head, “I wish I were young again.”
I wondered whether this was a common occurrence or a fluke.
Did people just give away money in Las
Vegas or did the gambling-town gods have a special crush
on me? My answer came a few days later when a man named Craig asked
if I’d like to gamble with him. He was determined to hit the jackpot and stalked
a row of slot machines like a 12-step program dropout, popping coins
obsessively into one, then another and another. I agreed to play an adjacent
row with a bucket of his coins. An hour later, I said good-bye, and Craig handed
me a hundred dollar bill for my time, which I promptly showed my aunt.
In the 1970’s and 1980’s in Las Vegas, the generosity of
strangers—or more specifically middle-aged men--was as predictable as buffets,
headliners and showgirls; and the biggest recipients were those whose jobs
involved tips. Small town Americans would relocate to Sin City
for a year or two to accumulate big bucks, working as blackjack dealers,
bartenders, bellhops, waitresses or even prostitutes. As a University of Nevada
student, I met dozens of these folks, who outlined their ultimate goal: to
return to their home state to buy property or start a business with their
“winnings.”
Over the years, Vegas has shifted from big spenders to tourists
in order to stay afloat. The scores of “high rollers” from the 1970’s and
1980’s have either stopped coming due to the deteriorating economy or have gotten
snapped up by competitors, such as Indian casinos. Nineteen states permit casino
gambling. The growing gap between the rich and the poor has statistically led
to fewer wealthy folk, and thus fewer big time gamblers. Casino owners
over-borrowed and overbuilt, and the city now has the highest foreclosure rate
of any major metro area in the country and the second highest unemployment rate
at 13 percent. In an effort to pinpoint a new and steady revenue stream, the
family was targeted. Today, the city caters to mothers, fathers, kids and even clowns,
who are mostly middle-income and careful with their cash. Seventeen-year-olds looking for a golden gift from the gods are
probably out of luck. A veteran Vegas waitress recently told me, “You used to
be able to count on the kindness of strangers. Today, tips are probably the
same as in any other big city. Men full of cash are a thing of the past.” 05:05 PM in Current Events, Economy, Entertainment, Travel | Permalink | Comments (8) It’s My Party and I’ll Crash If I Want To
Michaele and Tareq Salahi crashed more than a
White House state dinner. Like other publicity stunt architects before them,
they crashed through the barricade that mainstream media erected long ago to
keep out common folks like you and me. With the advent of the Internet and
reality TV, these barricades have been re-examined and reconfigured so that
ordinary people can more easily get their 15 minutes of fame. With luck,
perseverance and a crafty publicist, this can be parlayed into 15 years or
more.
I am pleased that the media who once hoarded the most valuable commodities in America—information
and ideas—have been forced to pull extra chairs to the table and share some of
the bounty with the potato peelers in the kitchen. The backdoor has been
unbolted, giving America’s
“seemingly unremarkable” masses a chance to bypass the golden plated guest list
and join the party.
 After all, if William Hung—the kid who gained fame in 2004 for his painfully
bad American Idol audition—can end up with a Wikipedia page, a fan site
and a record deal, anyone can do it. Our “Reality TV-Internet” age means new
career opportunities for those who might otherwise feel hopeless about a chance
of fame and success.
Apparently, my car is the only one exhibiting the “Go Salahi” bumper sticker.
In online articles and blogs, seething anger lashes out like flames from a
pissed-off fire pit. Words like “narcissistic” and “superficial” are used to
describe ordinary people who seek fame or reality show careers. One comment
reads, “I’m tired of these stupid celebrities with no talent. I hear they get
six figure incomes on Reality TV. That money could feed an entire village.”
Maybe but that does not explain his anger because he has no problem with the
executives or actors who make seven or eight figure incomes which could feed
100 villages.
I contend it takes a “je ne sais quoi” quality to be watchable, entertaining
and catapult to stardom for merely “being you.” Appearing on reality TV is much
like acting or hosting a show because the medium is highly scripted, despite
appearances to the contrary. And it is a talent in itself to drum up a million
followers on Youtube or amass a swarm of fans while competing on Survivor,
Project Runway or Top Chef.
Capturing the attention of the media with relatively harmless publicity stunts
is a highly paid skill. Every major corporation and celebrity utilizes the
services of a public relations firm. The Rose Bowl, the Miss America Pageant
and the Academy Awards all began as publicity stunts.
The Balloon Boy ploy wasn’t harmless. It wasted law enforcement’s time and
taxpayer dollars but the verdict is out on the whether it will end like the
Jerry Lewis movie, King of Comedy. In this flick--which solidifies the
age-old message that “any publicity is good publicity”--an aspiring comic
kidnaps a talk show host in order to get a few minutes of TV airtime so he can
perform his act. The stunt lands the comic in jail for a short time, a small
price to pay for the stardom and wealth he finds upon release.
The gate-crashing Salahis with their panache and chutzpah weren’t the first to maneuver
past Secret Service. I have done the same thing. Twice.
In addition to gate-crashing numerous events and award shows in my late teens
and early 20’s, and writing a “how to” book in 1988 called Meet the Stars, I
crashed two “Secret Service-guarded” events.
The first time was to meet and interview President Reagan at an elite Walter
Annenberg party in Palm Springs
in the 1980’s. Like the Salahis, I went through a metal detector and my
purse was checked. I got into the event by making friends with a White House
employee a couple of days earlier and finagling an “invitation” to the affair.
I say “invitation” because my name was never placed on the guest list. At the
entrance to the event, the employee somehow convinced a Secret Service agent to
give me entrance.
My second Secret Service encounter took place at a 2004 Senator John Kerry
fundraiser in Los Angeles
when he was the Democratic candidate for president. Some attendees had paid as
much as $25,000 for the dinner and star-studded show. A few lucky ones
including me were able to attend a very private party afterwards. Present were:
Senator Kerry, Robert De Niro, Barbra Streisand, Ben Affleck, Neil Diamond,
Billy Crystal, Ben Stiller, Jamie Foxx and Leonard Dicaprio, among others. Of
the 50 or so people in the room all were well-known figures and their spouses
or Secret Service agents. And me.
Like the Salahis who in the words of Secret Service director Mark Sullivan,
went through “magnetometers and other levels of screening,” I underwent a
rigorous check confirming I was weapon-free. But no one asked to see my ticket.
I had escaped detection in the excitement of the moment and the collage of
colorful party gowns. True, I had intentionally shimmied into the center of a
group of the wealthiest donors who all seemed to be thinking, “Darn it, I paid
big bucks for this shindig, and I’m not about to wait in line.”
During the past few years the Secret Service
has protected the President and other officials at more than 10,000 events with
100% success. Apart from initial screenings, the organization has multiple
security procedures in place, and I do not believe for one minute that someone
with nefarious intent could gain entrance or cause harm.
According to studies conducted between 1998 and 2009, 30% of Americans (and 51%
of 18- to 25- year olds) wish to be famous as do the same percentage of English,
Germans and Chinese. But only 1 to 2 percent of these people seek fame for its
own sake. Most are looking for fame to lead to a stable career, wealth, power,
influence, social distinction, good works or a place in history.
Fame-seekers are not pathetic, shallow, self-centered souls as many would have
you believe. Fame-seekers are your neighbors, your friends, your business
associates. They are people who hope to feed their families, live the good
life, benefit their communities and effect positive change. With fame one can
be a positive influence. Feeding a hungry child as a private citizen is good
but feeding a hungry child as a public figure is better because it can induce others
to do the same.
Whatever you may think of it, finagling your way into a VIP event can be an
effective stepping-stone and a means to a positive end. And regardless of
security changes, the Salahis will not be the last inductees into the Party-Crashers
Hall of Fame. 10:51 AM in Current Events, Politics, Social Issues, Television | Permalink | Comments (1) Religion vs. the Sprinkler Police
Does your Rain Bird no longer fly? Are your PVC pipes
feeling neglected? Has your city hung your lawn out to dry and given your timer
a time-out? If so, you probably live in a place that restricts landscaping
watering. Due to devastating dry spells, dozens of cities have implemented ordinances
aimed at water conservation.
 When I grew up in Atlanta,
it was so rainy a fish could survive on land; but when I visited last year, I
found straw-like lawns and a total watering ban. InLos Angeles, where I now reside, the City
Council has implemented a partial ban: residents are restricted to two days per
week for outdoor irrigation and no more than 15 minutes per watering station.
I understand the need to conserve and have always been a
“waste not, water not” woman, whipping the faucet on and off while teeth
cleaning as if water were pricey champagne. In my college dorm, I won the
coveted “Snappy Shower Award,” and I treat my dishwasher like a roller-coaster
ride: it doesn’t leave the station unless it’s full.
However, when it comes to my yard, a middle ground is unachievable
if it means a dead ground. My religion and moral value system require healthy
greenery; which in turn, benefit the animals and insects who depend on my yard
for sustenance. I live in a fire hazard
zone in Woodland Hills—the most sweltering part of LA--where watering two days
per week is as effective as healing third degree burns with a Band-aid and
where dead foliage is an invitation for flames to “come up and see me
sometime.”
My lot—which abuts undeveloped acreage--may appear fully
suburbanized, but it serves as an oasis for rabbits, bees, skunks, raccoons,
coyotes, gophers, snakes, bees, owls, and birds of every kind. Saint Francis of Assisi would not
want for feathered friends.
I am not a Christian like Assisi,
but practice Jainism, which is often described as the world’s oldest living
religion, originating in India
around 500 BC. Adherents follow the principal of “ahimsa” or non-injury to all
living beings. Although practically-speaking it is impossible to be perfect, a Jain
does her best to make sure no living being is injured by her action or inaction.
Compassion is extended to mammals and reptiles as well as flowers, grass, insects
and trees. As a Jain, I have a duty to protect the life forms on my property,
and any ordinance which interferes with this is at odds with my First Amendment
rights under the US Constitution.
How interesting it would be for this water-related dispute to
percolate into court. Santeria--a religion with Afro-Cuban roots which has
approximately one million followers in the US—condones killing animals in ritual.
In 1993, Santeria adherents in Hialeah, Florida won a “free exercise of
religion” case: the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the religion and against a
local ordinance, which sought to ban animal sacrifice. Although the case had an
unfortunate outcome for nonhuman victims, it illustrates the power of the First
Amendment. One must assume the Supreme Court would protect the critters in my
yard under the same rationale used to deny them protection in Florida.
Apart from religion, my moral value system dictates that I
maintain a verdant yard. I hold that all living beings have interests, as
evidenced by their efforts to flourish and survive, and to disregard these
interests would be arrogant, self-serving and speciesist. Speciesism is a form
of prejudice, much like racism or sexism, in which humans deem themselves
superior to other species. To adequately recognize the innate value of
nonhumans—which policy-makers rarely do--and shake off speciesism, our
democracy would need to be more like an omniocracy or government with representation
and consideration for all living beings. An omniocratic system would, at the
very least, be mindful of the needs of other species before intercepting their
lifeline with an overly restrictive water ordinance.
Some LA City Councilmembers--as well as misguided
environmentalists—suggest homeowners rip out their grass and lay synthetic turf
in order to save H2O, despite the exorbitant cost. It is $7000 for 600 square
feet. This would, of course, solidify Tinseltown’s image: plastic surgeons could
have plastic yards, and every street could look like a movie set. But real
grass is essential because it serves as a carbon offset, absorbing 13.2 million
pounds of CO2 per year. One would have to plant and maintain 1861 trees for a
decade to compensate for a football field of fake turf.
Artificial grass is not what I would call “environmental” or
“animal friendly” with its lead-content problems, the extensive energy and raw
materials needed to produce it, and the risk that synthetic materials may leak
into the water table and that rubber infill crumbs may become airborne and
inhaled. Installing make-believe grass is akin to moving your home office onto
the driveway in order to save a lightbulb. In addition, horrifying images come
to mind: rabbits ingesting green shag fibers and tiny life forms roasting under
an airless blanket of toxins. Turf temperatures can climb to 160 degrees on
summer days.
As a vegan, I could maintain a lush, English garden at my
home and still use less water than a meat-eater in a condo, a fact the ordinance
fails to take into account. It takes 300 gallons per day to produce vegetarian food,
while it takes 13 times more--4,000 gallons--for a carnivore, the difference
between night and day or a bathtub and a pool. This is because it is so costly
water-wise to raise and feed each of the 55 billion farm animals slaughtered
for food.
Apparently, not many sprinkler scofflaws or hose hogs exist;
officials in both Los Angeles and Atlanta have revealed significant
declines in water usage since their ordinances were put into place. There has
been an 11% reduction in LA since June, and residents consume the same amount
of water today as they did 25 years ago, despite a population increase of over one
million people. Atlanta
has realized a 20% reduction over the past eight years despite a population
boom of 30%.
It is hoped Los Angeles, Atlanta and other cities
will continue to explore and implement conservation alternatives, when viable, such
as desalinization processes, smart irrigation systems, recycled water programs,
urine diversion toilets, groundwater replenishment systems and rainwater
capture plans.
In the meantime, I hope you will conserve when you can. But
don’t let the water ordinance rain on your parade or kill your “living yard.” Lots
of creatures count on you.
08:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) Michael Jackson and Medical Paternalism
Since Michael Jackson’s death, there has been a push to use
the long arm of the law to ransack pharmacy shelves and pluck out a killer. Law
enforcement and the public seem thirsty for the arrest of one or more ofJackson’s doctors on
charges of homicide, or more specifically manslaughter. A physician can be legally
responsible if he is found negligent or reckless in the death of a patient.
Dr. Conrad Murray was present during Jackson's last moments, and if he physically administered
a lethal drug, it would, of course, place him directly in the firing line. But
what about the dozens of physicians who have written prescriptions for the
singer over the years and who are now being tracked down and investigated? The
indirect act of prescribing medications can legally expose an MD, but should it?
Should the law be changed to shift a greater degree of responsibility to the
patient?
Medical paternalism is interference in a person’s health by
a doctor, the FDA or another “authority” because the “authority” is assumed to know
what is best for that person. It is imposed against a patient’s will, results
in a limitation of autonomy and can spiral into a “you can’t handle the truth”
philosophy in which pertinent information is withheld from the sick.
Michael Jackson used aliases and “doctor shopped,” which
means he went from one physician to another until he acquired the medications
he desired or needed; and a tremendous amount of evidence suggests he required
drugs to function. Debilitating insomnia had plagued him for years, just as it
did Elvis Presley and Heath Ledger, both of whom also died from prescription
drug overdoses.
Michael Jackson’s nurse, Cherilyn Lee, says the singer begged
for a powerful sedative, even though he knew it could be deadly, because he was
desperate to sleep; and publicist Rob Goldstein says Jackson would dance for eight hours straight in
his hotel room hoping it would make him tired. Two months prior to his death, Heath
Ledger revealed his agony in getting only two hours of sleep per night; and Elvis
Presley’s doctor, George Nichopoulos--whose medical license was suspended when
the singer died—says Presley got no more than three hours of sleep at a time.
Presley was caught in demanding cycle of needing energy at showtime, then seeking
sleep so he could feel refreshed the next day. Perhaps medication was the only solution
if he wanted to remain an international star rather than an infirm recluse. Jackson had just left a
more secluded life to jump into a grueling rehearsal and concert schedule when
he overdosed.
It is all too easy for those who are free from pain and from
crippling insomnia to mount their moral high horse and preach about willpower
and alternative remedies. Most insomniacs have tried everything, still suffer
and turn to heavier and heavier medications. Check the Internet blogs and sleep
disorder forums; talk of suicide is as routine as brushing ones teeth.
“I’ve had insomnia for 14 years,” one person writes. “What is
the value in a life with chronic unrelenting insomnia night after night?” Someone
replies, “I am at 13 years, contemplating suicide.”
A lawyer comments, “If I get off meds, I can’t do my job,”
and a teacher says, “I’m literally fighting to stay awake as soon as the day
begins. I feel like death. I am only 25, and I look like I am 35-40.”
An unemployed woman writes, “My $200 per hour doctor is no
help. He won’t prescribe sleeping pills because he is worried I will
deliberately overdose. But life is not worth living. All I do is cry.”
Is this how Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger and Elvis Presley
felt? If so, one can understand their desire to try hardcore medications, even
at the risk of addiction, injury or death. Plus, life in show biz is demanding:
a person must be at his best regularly and at exact times, a Herculean feat for
someone with chronic insomnia.
Michael Jackson’s doctors have been described as greedy,
selfish enablers with “blood on their hands,” but isn’t it just as likely they
are caring individuals who are willing to risk personal liability to help the suffering?
Dr. William Hurwitz has been described as such a person. He was a Virginia pain management
physician, but now sits in jail for prescribing drugs that some of his patients
abused. His property was seized by authorities, and after his practice closed, two
patients reportedly killed themselves because of untreated pain.
Mentalist Uri Geller and one of Michael Jackson’s bodyguards
claim they confiscated anesthesia injection equipment from the singer and screamed
at him to get off drugs, but he ignored their warnings. Jackson was clearly willing to assume the
risk, so why can’t his fans and family respect his decision? He would certainly
want to be held personally responsible for his health-related choices rather
than witness what could be described as a modern-day witch hunt against physicians
who were arguably just trying to help.
Personal responsibility is unfortunately out-of-style.
Today’s society is like a game of dodge ball: there is a tendency to skirt responsibility,
shoving a scapegoat out in front to be struck and blaming the team’s loss on him.
History teaches us that sins are symbolically washed away when a scapegoat is punished;
it’s a ritual that seems to provide psychological satisfaction for a mourning
nation that needs an answer to failure and loss. I believe this explains why
doctors are routinely and overzealously pursued when a celebrity dies of a
prescription overdose and why there is public outrage towards the doctors in
Michael Jackson’s life.
Perhaps my libertarian tan lines are showing, but I think
doctors, the FDA and other “authorities” should be advisors rather than powerful
patriarchs who can shove their mighty pen in their pocket, depriving patients
of medications which may be their only hope for a pain-free life. Centralized prescription
databases—which are being launched throughout the nation--are risky, “big
brother” enterprises that should be discontinued until such time as patients
are given greater control over their own health.
In general, people assume a passive role in their medical
lives, mindlessly trusting doctors. Instead they should be legally entitled to take
greater responsibility for their own wellbeing and encouraged to research the
pros and cons of their medications, in addition to pondering—rather than
robotically accepting--the advice offered by health professionals. It is simple
to log onto Internet forums and read about drug side effects and benefits, as
well as clinical studies.
To assure patients are properly advised of side effects,
signed disclosures could be required along with impartially produced Internet videos
outlining the disadvantages and advantages of a particular drug. The goal would
be threefold: proper disclosure, input from a doctor and tools that help individuals
make decisions that are right for them.
Regulating medicine through criminal law enforcement is
misguided and counterproductive, and could lead to fewer physicians, especially
in the chronic pain management field. According to the Association of American
Medical Colleges, there is already likely to be a shortage of 124,400 doctors
by 2025. There are medical professionals today who specialize in “self-defense,”
by putting their own desire to stay out of criminal court above the interest of
the patient. Some flat-out refuse to treat those with chronic pain due to the
ever-present oppression and intimidation by law enforcement. The Hippocratic
Oath should not be at war with the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Individualism and self-determination are fundamental values
that most of us cherish; however, in medicine, they rest on the pharmacy’s dusty
back shelf. Medical paternalism is outdated and not a panacea.
America needs a new prescription; and frankly, I think Michael Jackson would
agree. 11:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) Clueless at City Hall: Foreclosures and Tenants
 You may have noticed the cascade of articles about foreclosure-related
evictions that have streamed through mainstream media and the blogosphere with the
common theme that tenants are drowning and need a legislative life vest. But
you may not know that the Los Angeles City Council, in an ill-advised and
shortsighted move, voted to give them more than that vest; it handed them an
ocean liner, sinking everyone around them.
I am talking about the ordinance 180441 or Article 14.1 of
Chapter IV of the Los Angeles Municipal Code, known as the “Eviction of Tenants
from Foreclosed Residential Rental Properties.” It essentially bars evictions
from foreclosed properties and places foreclosed single-family residences under
the rent stabilization ordinance (RSO). Listed as an emergency measure, the
ordinance barreled scrutiny-free through city hall in 12 days, leaving the
public and neighborhood councils little time to respond.
This ordinance states a tenant cannot be evicted from a foreclosed
house, condominium or post-1978 apartment building—all which would normally be
exempt from the RSO--unless one of two conditions are met: 1) the tenant fails
to pay the rent or breaches the lease in a significant way (residing in the
country illegally or getting roommates in violation of the contract do not
qualify as eviction-worthy offenses), or 2) the landlord plans to occupy the
property or demolish the premises, which triggers payment of pricey relocation
fees. In other words, a renter must be allowed to live in a foreclosed home
until the new buyer takes possession, gives proper notice for him to move, and pays
him thousands.
The ordinance was established to safeguard tenants from
getting a mere 60-day notice, as state law provided, when they had fully complied
with their lease. Although some tenant protections are sensible, this ordinance
goes radically overboard, proving disastrous for buyers, financially strapped
homeowners, property maintenance crews, real estate agents, banks, neighbors and
the community as a whole.
The ordinance encourages fraud. According to local Realtors,
it is common these days for a property owner, who is losing his home in foreclosure,
to sign a bogus lease agreement with a friend or relative (pretending to be a “tenant”)
at a below-market value. The owner can then continue to live in the property
for pennies on the dollar, and can, upon eviction, collect $7300 - $18,300 in
relocation fees. Real estate agents say they frequently find utility bills listed
in the name of the property owner rather than the “tenant,” indicating a scam
rather than a valid lease. Sometimes two property owners facing foreclosure
will switch houses and sign bogus lease agreements for each other. A new cottage
industry has emerged: owners facing foreclosure are contacted and told that for
a fee they can stay in their homes. The above scheme is explained.
When foreclosing on houses, banks do not have rental
schedules in their files like they do with large apartment buildings; this
makes it easy to pretend a low lease amount is fair market value. High-end
properties—which may have a view, a large lot or elaborate upgrades--are ideal for
this purpose. A “tenant” can convincingly argue that $2000 per month is all
that can be collected for a house that would really bring in $5000 due to
amenities.
The new ordinance also hurts buyers, especially those who have
slender bank accounts and lack experience in the real estate market. Let’s
assume a first-time buyer wants to purchase a tenant-occupied foreclosure.
First, he must get a loan on the property. The bank may charge him a higher interest
rate and the insurance company may charge him an excessive premium due to the fact
that the property cannot be owner-occupied at the close of escrow.
Even though the buyer plans to reside in the home, he cannot
ask the tenant to leave until 60-days after the close of escrow, at which time the
buyer will be responsible for thousands of dollars in relocation fees. If the renter
refuses to vacate, the buyer will have to hire an attorney and go through costly
and time-consuming eviction process. In the meantime, the tenant could stop paying
rent, destroy the house and steal appliances. Unless the insurance company
chips in, repairs and replacements will come out of the buyer’s pocket as will the
unsubsidized mortgage payments.
Why would anyone purchase a tenant-occupied foreclosure? Apart
from a naïve buyer who is unaware of the ramifications, these properties sell
to savvy investors who require deep price discounts in order to accept the
tenant-related risks. Realtors tell me that they must regularly mark down these
properties by 20-40% in order to get them sold, thereby devastating neighborhood
values. Nearby homeowners may not be able to refinance or sell their homes for their
true worth. When property values tumble, tax revenues decrease, and the overall
economy suffers.
The ordinance means an increase in foreclosures as tenants
learn it is in their interest to undermine short sales. A short sale occurs
when a homeowner, who wants to avoid foreclosure and has a property worth less
than the mortgage, asks the bank to take a reduction on the note so he can sell.
The bank agrees.
However, when a tenant learns about the ordinance, he is
usually unwilling to cooperate with a short sale. He knows that if he refuses
to leave, he can force the property into foreclosure, and can probably avoid paying
rent for a number of months, stay in the home until 60 days after it is sold and
receive thousands in relocation fees. It is a windfall for the tenant, but quite
painful for the property owner, who was hoping to maintain a semblance of creditworthiness
and sell for the highest price so as not to be damaged by exorbitant taxes. Neighbors
prefer short sales because they sell for more than foreclosures and usually mean
a smoother transfer of ownership. Short sales are also better for a bank’s bottom
line, thus making wiser use of taxpayer “bailout” funds.
LA Council President Eric Garcetti says the new ordinance saves
communities from “the nuisances that can accompany empty, boarded-up homes.” It
is true that some vacant foreclosures are an eye-sore, but hanging onto a
tenant is not the answer. Tenant-occupied properties tend to look worse than
vacant foreclosures, especially on the interior, and they are a much tougher
sell. It would be preferable to mandate banks to keep the exterior of foreclosure
properties tidy, watered and free from vagrants.
Real estate agents usually recommend evicting tenants prior
to putting a home on the market. Tenants who do not want to leave often intentionally
sabotage sales; they may whisper to potential buyers that the house is falling
apart or that the neighborhood is undesirable. They rarely allow a lockbox for
easy access and even though they agree to appointments (as required by law),
they may repeatedly “stand up” buyers, agents, repairmen and maintenance crews,
wasting everyone’s time. They may refuse to let the pool man and gardener into
the backyard; these low paid workers are rarely compensated for lost hours. A
tenant-occupied property, on average, sells for less than a vacant home, again
impairing neighborhood values.
LA’s ordinance is wholly unnecessary now that President
Obama and Congress have passed a measure called “Protecting Tenants at Foreclosure
Act of 2009,” which provides a 90-day eviction notice for month-to-month renters
and gives those with a bona fide lease the ability to remain in a property until
the end of the agreed-upon term. “Bona fide” means the contract is the result
of an arm’s length transaction and the rent is not substantially under fair
market value. This law is unlikely to fall prey to scams and does not provide
for outrageous tenant paydays.
Although the federal law puts banks in the landlord business,
it provides the necessary protections for renters and communities. It is a vast
improvement over the local ordinance, which currently trumps federal law.
When society has floated too far to the east, there is a tendency
for politicians to make a wide and radical swing to the west rather than guide
the sail to a sane middle-ground. This is what the LA City Council has done.
Tell them to revoke the local ordinance so the waters can be calm again.
_________
Note:
The Greater Valley Glen Council recently passed a motion,
which was forwarded to the LA City Council, suggesting the new ordinance be
revoked entirely, or revised to apply only to (five units or greater) apartment
buildings, since these properties tend to be sold with renters intact. 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) Next » _qoptions = { tags:"typepad.core" }; _qacct="p-fcYWUmj5YbYKM"; quantserve(); var TPToolbar = { src: "http://www.typepad.com/services/toolbar?blog_id=6a00d8341c853253ef00d8341cd88753ef&asset_id=&atype=index&to=http%3A%2F%2Fcharlottelaws.typepad.com%2Fthe_official_charlotte_la%2F&autofollowed=0", asset_xid: "", bookmarklet_uri: "http://static.typepad.com/.shared/js/qp/loader-combined-min.js" }; var TYPEPAD___bookmarklet_domain = "http://www.typepad.com/"; |
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