For those of you unconcerned with important national events or who have been living in the dark following the freak October northeastern snow storm, you may be shocked to learn that Kim Kardashian has filed for divorce just 72 days after her ballyhooed wedding to NBA star (?) Kris Humphries! Any long-term impacts on world financial markets have not yet been revealed.
Having made millions on the broadcast rights and raked in a considerable amount in wedding gifts, Kim has decided to donate a comparatively paltry $200 thousand from her haul to the Dream Foundation. Having taken in almost $18 million from the wedding and paid zero (that’s right, everything from the invitations to the gowns and reception were provided gratis for this made-for-cable-TV wedding), Kim’s magnanimity to the poor ranks slightly below that of Bernie Madoff.
In addition, Kim intends keeping the 20.5 carat diamond ring valued at nearly $2 million that her ex-hubby Humphries gave her at the time of their engagement! Perhaps, Kris didn’t pay for that either.
Kim is the daughter of attorney and music producer, the late Robert Kardashian who unlike Kim actually earned his money. Marital infidelity by Kim’s mom, Kris, led to the divorce of her birth parents. Eventually, Kris hooked another sap, former Olympian Bruce Jenner.
Kim partied through her young adulthood on the LA socialite circuit with close lifelong friend Paris Hilton (as they say, birds of a feather flock together). She married music producer Damon Thomas in 2000 and divorced him in 2004. Now a two-time loser at marriage, Kim’s public persona skyrocketed in 2007 with the release of a home sex video featuring Kim and R&B singer Ray J (the Kardashian women know what the public wants).
If you’re still reading this article, you’re probably wondering about the nature of the society in which we live, a culture in which the average American is descending into poverty while those with low moral and ethical standards, like Kim Kardashian, Lindsay Lohan, and Charlie Sheen, laugh all the way to the bank.
This cult of personality and societal preoccupation with the lewd, lascivious, shocking, and just plain bizarre is another indication of the demise of our country and the world. While it is human nature to stare at a train wreck or natural disaster, it is utter foolishness to pay to do so. Yet, if you watch cable or satellite television or, God forbid, purchase a product endorsed or sold by one of these so-called celebrities (what is it we’re celebrating?), you are supporting their hedonistic lifestyles.
So, stop reading this article! Cancel your cable or satellite subscription! And, boycott all products endorsed or sold by those who reap riches at the expense of the morons whose lives are so devoid of stimulation or purpose that they actually care about the life of Kim Kardashian or any other celebrity!
At joyous social gatherings, nothing sets a mood, builds excitement, and creates memories like music. That’s why, when choosing musicians among the many available for your wedding, christening, bar/bat mitzvah, or corporate function, you want to choose wisely. You want a band well versed in a broad range of musical genres, appealing to youngsters, senior citizens, and everyone in between. But more than that, you want a band whose love for music is palpable, whose respect for the original artists is genuine, and whose excitement is infectious.
Nick of Time is that band.
Steve, the multi-faceted keyboardist, colors the melodies with rainbows both contemporary and traditional. Out of his keys, he coaxes the sound of ivories as well as horns! Engaging performers who capture audience participation, vocalists Gordon and Jim nail the tunes and lyrics to songs that you and your guests know and love. And, drummer Manny pounds the skins to within an inch of his life, carrying rhythms that lift hearts and shake hips on the dance floor.
Meet the band (hover over picture for name in caption – article resumes below photos):
Covering songs by Sinatra, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, the Four Tops, Elton John, Glen Miller, the Andrew Sisters, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Conway Twitty, Charlie Rich, Toby Keith, Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Steely Dan, Elvis Costello, Cream, Led Zeppelin, and too many more to mention here, Nick of Time rocks it out, from 40s swing to 50s R&B to 60s Motown to classic rock to country and Top 40 crowd pleasers.
Didn’t find your favorite artists among those listed here? Odds are, the band covers them with expertise and joie de vivre. Just click through to their website to view their full catalog.
Better yet, call Nick of Time today. Audition them, fall in love with them, book them, and create an event that you and your guests will remember for years to come.
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After the strains of The Star Spangled Banner and other rousing national paeans fade, we finally uncover the real America. The real America is alive and well on The Jerry Springer Show.
Here, on display for all the world to see, we find the unsolved problems of our country. Here, the words, “Oh, say can you see,” have new meaning. Here, we watch the Sad Sacks of our country tell it like it is, their sagas punctuated by foul mouthed throw-downs, liberally flying fisticuffs, and the refereeing of Springer’s trained bodyguards, ahem, springing into action.
Without lengthy courtroom trials or legal judgments, we witness, five times a week and in the space of an hour, the resolution to a plethora of undesirable situations. These include the beautiful blonde pregnant with the child of a dirt bag who’s secretly in love with his ex-cellmate, the mother screwing her daughter’s husband, and the 450 pound transvestite who can’t understand why he (she???) must suffer slings and arrows when parading in public while crammed into day-glow Spandex.
Lest you think this show is merely concerned with sensationalism and ratings jumping as high as my blood pressure does when I so much as look at a hot dog, think again. Jerry and his peeps are genuinely concerned with human suffering, and they’ve proven it. Time and again, they’ve offered to perform free DNA testing on the love children of women who’ve dallied with an average of seven paramours. But, Springer and his crew don’t stop there; they go the extra mile. They reveal the DNA results in upcoming shows!
Those are not all the perks for the all-too-willing guests, for they fulfill Andy Warhol’s prophesy. What? You forgot the prophesy of the late, great painter of soda cans? This artistic genius postulated that everyone would come to enjoy his or her fifteen minutes of fame (okay, forty minutes on the Springer show, with commercial breaks). Without the angst of the casting coach or the bloodthirsty competition of vying for a record contract, guests achieve instant notoriety via Springer’s generosity! Why, he even allows the audience to participate in the fun and games.
As in the ancient gladiator contests, the live spectators are the final decision-makers. With thumbs up or thumbs down to the guests, this group gleefully determines the resolution to multitudinous loads of dirty laundry aired on national television. At home, the viewing public doesn’t get to vote. But that little detail doesn’t trouble them, for they get their kicks their own way. They are sadists, you see, who delight in the stories of Les Miserables (the miserable ones). Like hyenas, they relish tearing the last shreds of meat from the bones of Springer’s guests.
The genius at the helm of this popular program is to be lauded for having brought the upstanding tenets of the Marquis De Sade to modern America. A 17th century aristocrat, de Sade attained fame through his erotic writings and lifestyle, which elevated enjoyment of the pain of others to an art form. Springer’s show has not, as of this writing, resorted to whips and chains. But, I have faith in him!
America seems to be following in the footsteps of the Roman Empire. Witness the state of our government and our lifestyles, including our forms of entertainment. In the ancient Roman Colosseum, people paid to gleefully watch gladiators and lions impale and devour hapless Christians. In modern times, reality TV has become the new Colosseum and the American viewing public has become modern-day Romans. The reality shows clogging the airwaves revolve around cutthroat business competitions, young nitwits vacationing at the shore, and the performing arts. Into the latter category falls a popular show, “Dancing with the Stars.”
In this competition, a celebrity clueless about dancing is paired with a professional dancer. The pairs always consist of a man and a woman (this year’s contestant, Chaz Bono, notwithstanding). The professional dancer has the grueling task of teaching the partner with two left feet how to cut a rug. Three judges, themselves professional dancers, weigh in on the performances, awarding points on a scale of 0 to 10. The judges’ votes are totaled (i.e., a dancing pair may receive a total score of 30). Reality, however, enters the fore when the at-home audience casts votes each week to keep their favorites jitterbugging. The selection of the winning team is a process of elimination.
When the show first aired, contestants had to audition. But in the years that followed, contestants of notoriety were selected to enhance the show’s entertainment value. Some of the notables that have waltzed, fox-trotted, and samba’d their way across the stage are:
· Hines Ward, an NFL (National Football League) player
· Emmitt Smith, an NFL player
· Marie Osmond, singer and sister to Donny Osmond
· Kirstie Alley, actress
· Tom DeLay, a former U.S. House leader
· J. R. Martinez, war hero and actor
· Mario Lopez, a former contestant on American Idol who scandalized the show by breaking its inane rule of signing with a non-Idol label after he’d been booted from that show
In truth, “Dancing with the Stars” is not really a contest. What it is, in reality, is a vehicle for ratings and the almighty advertising dollars. It is also a blood sport. People tune in to see the amateurs trip over their own two feet, trip over their partners’ feet, injure themselves, break down emotionally, force their bodies through moves God never intended them to make, and cram themselves into costumes that, by and large, don’t leave much to the imagination (this goes for the men’s costumes as well as the women’s). It doesn’t matter who gets impaled or devoured on this show; America loves its blood sports.
For example, the performances of Kirstie Alley and her partner Maksam Chmerkoskiy were, as the show launched, exercises in futility. Kirstie had become nearly as famous for her “more to love” body as she had for her role on Cheers. It was Maksam’s burden, literally, to haul Kirstie around the dance floor. But, thanks to his hearty ethnic background and titanium jockstraps, Maksam survived what would have given lesser men a double hernia. Rumors had it that when the show ended, he was nominated for both the Arnold Schwarzenegger Superman Award and the Jack La Laine Man of the Year Award. Yes, Kirstie dropped a lot of weight as a result of her stint on the show, but it was Maksam who did much of the work.
Marie Osmond added a slice of Victoriana to the show when she fainted during her samba with Jonathan Roberta. There wasn’t even a couch on stage on which she could have her vapors. Although the audience’s initial reaction was laughter, the dauntless Marie managed to compose herself after a station break to receive her score from the judges. Some said the fainting spell was a sympathy ploy to gain higher marks, but since she was awarded 21 out of a possible 30, I don’t think there was too much sympathy being handed out. Adding insult to injury, some of Marie’s detractors complained that her costume looked like a Disney princess ballet recital costume for a 5-year- old, a la Cupcake.
Former member of the U.S. House of Representatives Tom DeLay didn’t let allegations of money laundering keep him from strutting his stuff. Fellow House members were astonished by his poise and dexterity as he danced to those old favorites, The Tennessee Waltz and The Eyes of Texas. But nothing beat his lively dance that included a tush-quiver that brought smiles to a select portion of our society.
One season, Emmitt Smith vied with Mario Lopez for the crown. Although Mario’s tango brought the judges to the edge of their seats and drew thunderous applause from the audience, it was Emmitt who won. But don’t feel too badly for Mario. If you can’t win one reality show, and you can’t win another, fate may yet be kind to you: Mario now hosts his own show.
Contestant J. R. Martinez gave inspiration to us all. Demonstrating fortitude and determination, this wounded veteran rose from injuries that had consumed 40% of his skin, including one of his ears. He credits the long running and now departing soap opera, All My Children, for his full recovery; compassionately, the soap had offered Martinez an acting position. Without that notoriety, he felt that would have never been selected to try out for the dance contest.
Among the newcomers to the 2011 season is Nancy Grace of Casey Anthony fame. Maybe Nancy will be asked to dance to Judgment at Nuremberg or another tune that will reflect her position of former prosecuting attorney and current TV show host.
My only questions about Dancing with the Stars are, “Who are the real stars? Are they the celebrities that begin with zero talent, or are they the long-suffering professionals constrained to whip them into shape? And why don’t the viewers get to select the contestants?”
If I were granted the opportunity to make the selections, I would like to see people of interest vie for the title, people like President Obama or Mrs. Obama, Hillary Clinton, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, or even Moammar. If we make the show accessible to audiences globally, this would be a great way to duke out … I mean, dance out … our international problems. What say ye?
It’s hard to believe that ten years have passed since the tragic events of September 11, 2001. My memories of that fateful morning, as did the events themselves, have a surreal quality. Informed that a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center (WTC) towers, I never imagined that it was a planned attack – thinking instead that it was some light plane that somehow veered off course and accidentally struck one of the towers. Watching a cable news program on television immediately thereafter, I was dumbstruck as I witnessed a large airliner strike the other tower! At that instant, I knew that the world and life as I had known it had changed inalterably. The news of the subsequent attack on the Pentagon and heroic efforts of passengers and crew who sacrificed their own lives in deterring the nefarious purposes of the terrorists who had hijacked United Flight 93 only served to reinforce my conclusion.
Ten years later, I am sad to say that I was right – the world did change and not for the better. America has lost lives and treasure as a result of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in attempts to root out terrorism. And, the cost of those wars has made no small contribution to the sorry state of our economy and national debt. Yet, the events of 9/11 brought a sense of unity to Americans that had been missing in our nation since the second World War. Although that feeling may have waned during the last decade, anniversaries, like the one upcoming this Sunday, remind us that the values that we as Americans share far outweigh our differences.
Among the values we share is a deeply rooted love of liberty and equality. Our forefathers came to this land to escape tyranny and embrace new opportunities. Embodied in slogans like “manifest destiny,” the American experiment rooted in faith in our Creator became a beacon to the rest of the world. But, borrowing from the Gospel of St. John, light came into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. And so, a relatively small band of those who hate that for which America stands attempted to strike at what they perceived to be the heart of America.
They failed, for one simple reason. They did not understand the resilience of the American people. And now, on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, TIME in association with HBO presents Beyond 9/11: Portraits of Resilience, a memorable video collection of dramatic testimonials from U.S. leaders, firefighters, flight attendants, veterans, family members, and, for the first time, survivors who miraculously escaped from above the impact zone of World Trade Center Tower Two.
This moving film focuses on the previously untold stories, captured in words and images, of a group of men and women who led America, moved the nation, and sacrificed for it, in the hours, days, and months that followed September 11, 2001. Punctuated by archival photos and footage, the film’s real power derives from the expressions on the faces and raw emotions of those interviewed, speaking bluntly about their feelings and experiences, what they have lost, and what has sustained them during the decade since their lives were changed forever.
Fittingly, the documentary airs for the first time on Sunday, September 11th at 8:46 a.m. (ET) – ten years to the minute that American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into World Trade Center One. As part of a multimedia TIME initiative, the full film will also be available on September 11th on a variety of platforms, including HBO.com, HBO GO, HBO On Demand, YouTube, the HBO Facebook page, and TIME.com.
For those of you who vividly remember that day – as do I, as well as those whose memories may have faded, this documentary is one you will not want to miss.
May God grant peace to the souls of all the 9/11 victims, comfort to their bereaved loved ones, and wisdom and insight into His Will to us all. Amen.
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I have a personal saying, “There is no justice in this world, but there is the law.” But after seeing the staggering denouement of the Mann vs. Ford case, I am no longer confident in the law. I’d promised to recap that denouement for you, as per the HBO film that aired last Tuesday, July 19, 2011.
Here goes:
1. After reviewing a wide body of evidence, our judicial system deemed that the Ramapough Native Americans were within their rights to take Ford Motor Company to court. But that’s where things got hairy.
2. Because of the number of plaintiffs, 650 families in all, the judge indicated that it would take a good decade to try this as a single, class action case. He also indicated that the plaintiffs, who are not wealthy people, might run out of money needed to pay their legal fees long before that. He intimated that Ford might not want to sink that much money and time into the case, as well.
3. The judge then made an official recommendation, which would have been enforced, that the case be divided into 6 or 7 separate cases, all tried simultaneously in different courtrooms, under the same roof. Reason? The expert witnesses needed to testify could literally go from one hearing to another in a single day, thus reducing the timeframe that would have been required to try the case either as a single case, or as multiple cases running sequentially (one after the other, chronologically). A date in April of 2008 was then set for the trials to begin.
4. The very day on which the trials were scheduled to begin Ford Motor Company posted a huge reduction in the value of their stock. Despite the Stock Market crash of seven months prior, Ford’s stock was plodding along at a somewhat depressed but fairly even pace. In other words, there were no serious dips in the value of their stock prior to the Ramapoughs’ lawsuit going live in court.
Was this sudden dip on the day of a trial truly a coincidence? Did someone at Ford lie about the value of that stock? Or did it go higher? Was someone at the SEC (Securities & Exchange Commission) paid off to look away? If you think this is paranoia, read on.
5. The case never did go to trial. Ford offered the plaintiffs a settlement, as did the township of Ringwood, New Jersey, which approved the building of the Ford plant. Ringwood kicked in approximately $1.5 million, bringing the total, with the lion’s share paid by Ford, to a “whopping” $12 million. Divide $12 million by 650 families, and what do you get? Not much, that’s what you get.
6. The Ramapoughs were unhappy with the amount offered but accepted it because … based upon Ford’s earnings, and the numerous public reports that followed of the automotive giant’s financial tumble, the Ramapoughs had assumed that the company would go bankrupt, thereby leaving them with no restitution whatsoever.
7. The $12 million was divided as equitably as possible among the surviving Ramapoughs, as per their own criteria (those who had suffered the worst received the most amount of money). The highest per-family payout was $8K. Considering that the average cost of a modest funeral in New Jersey is about $10K, that wasn’t even enough to buy the dead. And, over the five-year span that it took to film the meat of this grueling and ultimately insulting process, 30 more Ramapoughs had died from cancers linked to the toxins on their land.
8. Ford never apologized. In lieu of an apology, which would have indicated their guilt, their legal counsel read a 3-sentence statement in court, a statement that basically exonerated the corporation from any wrongdoing. The $12 million was the end of it: Ford made no attempt to clean up the devastation they had wrought.
9. A year after the settlement was offered and accepted, Ford posted profits of $2.7 billion.
A year later, in 2010, in the throes of a tanking U.S. economy, Ford Motor Company posted profits of $6.6 billion, the highest income earned in 11 years!
Is this justice?
And do you even care?
If not, you should. It is now estimated that 74 million Americans live within dangerous proximity to Superfund sites.
What can you do about it?
Not much, apparently, except move away and hope for the best, if you’re already living on or near a Superfund site. Not even the government is on your side. This was the largest case of its kind in the United States of America and it was a travesty, a miscarriage of justice.
What you can do is examine very closely those to whom you give your votes. Look closely at the performance of the politicians you back and trace their allegiances. In other words, determine in whose corporate pockets your politicians live, and in whose they don’t. Bring pressure to bear upon them, as is your right as an American citizen. Look closely, also, at any huge institution in which you may invest; i.e., purchase a high-ticket item, such as car or a home.
Don’t lose hope: it is your right to protest peacefully and to sue another party for wrongdoing. It’s your right to post information on the Internet and garner support for your cause. It’s your right, and that of your loved ones’, to live on clean land and drink clean water.
Related Articles:
Mann v. Ford: An HBO Documentary
A Blind Eye: The Plight of the Ramapoughs
Who is Diane Schuler, and why am I compelled to write an article about her? I’d never met Diane Schuler, but the terrible accident in which she was involved on the Taconic State Parkway still burns in my memory — and not just for the particulars of her case. Although what happened to me on the Taconic occurred many years before the Diane Schuler case, she and I may have had something in common … something inexplicable, something eerie, and in her case, something deadly; something rooted in or near the Taconic State Parkway.
In July of 2009, Diane Schuler, who lived on Long Island, New York, took her family on a camping trip to upstate New York. Accompanying her were five young children: her son, her daughter, and her three nieces. En route home, on July 25, 2009, she took the Taconic Parkway, heading back to Long Island; it was a road she’d driven many times before.
For those unfamiliar with the Taconic State Parkway, it is one of the roads that lead out of New York, past the city proper and past Westchester, to points north. Traffic moves briskly on the Taconic and it usually flows easily. It is not a difficult road to navigate. The northbound and southbound lanes are not easily confused, because a low railing separates the lanes. Through this railing, one can easily view traffic flowing in the opposite direction.
For three years, I drove that parkway, alternating it now and again with what we New Yorkers call “The Hutch” (the Henry Hutchinson Parkway). This was during the period in which I’d been engaged to someone that I had decided, in the end, not to marry. For this article, we’ll refer to him as Jim (not his real name). Jim was from a section of Queens that bordered Long Island. So, Diane Schuler, and I were both very familiar with the road on which she and seven others were destined to die on July 25, 2009.
The facts are as follows: Diane Schuler drove the wrong way for a two-mile stretch on the Taconic. Unable to avoid an oncoming SUV, Diane crashed into that vehicle, thus meeting her Maker and killing the other seven innocent people. Why would Diane do such a thing, on a road so very familiar to her? Was she driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs? Or was it something else that made her turn the wheel in the wrong direction, straight into oncoming traffic?
These are the questions that will be examined on Monday, July 25, 2011 at 9pm via the HBO Documentary Summer Series; the title of the program is, “There is Something Wrong with Aunt Diane.” Crafted by the Oscar-nominee Liz Garbus*, the film explores this strange case through eyewitness accounts that have never before aired in the media, and interviews with Diane’s friends, who knew her only as a wonderful mother. I’m going to tune in to see what HBO has uncovered, because, you see, I myself might have been caught in Diane’s shoes. But unlike Diane, I’ve lived to tell the tale.
Here is that tale.
One evening, Jim and I were returning from his grandmother’s second home in upstate New York (the same general area where Diane and her family had been vacationing). We took the Taconic State Parkway south, heading back to his home in Queens (the same direction in which Diane had been traveling that fateful evening in 2009). Jim and I were both responsible people. We were not drunk or high when he got behind the wheel and I slipped into the passenger seat. And although it was evening, roughly 10 PM, we’d traveled that road many times before, at much later — and much earlier — hours. The weather was clear; it was early autumn. No rain, no snow, no fog. The road was clear and the traffic was flowing smoothly and quickly.
Before getting onto the Taconic, we’d stopped at a diner for a cup of coffee each. We had caffeine in our systems, nothing else. We got onto the parkway, expecting an uneventful ride home.
This happened to me more than thirty years ago, but to this day, I can’t explain it. I know that I did not pass out; I know that I didn’t fall asleep. But inside the car, something happened. In the Star Trek universe, you might say that I “winked out.” It wasn’t the disintegrating “transporter effect.” It was simply that, one minute I was there, and the next, I wasn’t. For a few seconds, or perhaps a full minute, I went somewhere else; my mind, my soul did. I was aware that my body was still in the car and yet, the other part of me was not. When I came back to myself, I thought, “Thank God Jim was driving and not me!”
Feeling foolish, for I could not explain what had just happened, I said nothing to Jim. But immediately, he demanded, “What the hell was that just now?” And then he proceeded to tell me that he, too, had simply “winked out” for a moment. Again, both of us were cold stone sober and both of us were not tired when this had occurred.
Could this be what happened to Diane Schuler? Could she have “gone somewhere” for a split second or perhaps a bit longer — just long enough to disorient her and make her turn her vehicle into harm’s way? If so, what had caused her to “wink out?” Is there a mystery surrounding the Taconic? And are there, perhaps, similar tales?
Tune in to HBO on Monday, July 25th at 9 PM and maybe, just maybe, we’ll find out.
* Ms. Garbus has been nominated for an Oscar for her film, “The Farm: Angola USA.” She has also crafted the HBO film, “Bobby Fischer Against the World.”
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When I was asked last week to craft an article to help launch the upcoming HBO documentary, Mann vs. Ford, I had no idea how hard my heart was about to be wrenched, or how far my head was about to be blown.
If you know someone who has recorded this documentary, I strongly urge you to view it, absorb it, and understand how it impacts us all, not just a group of Native Americans who have been living under these untenable conditions for more than 40 years. It’s a long documentary, a two-hour commitment on your part, and well worth the investment of your time. I myself have another 25 minutes left to complete my viewing, as I can only watch so much in a single sitting, for it has affected me to that degree.
The case underpinning Mann vs. Ford centers upon a section of New Jersey that I have long admired and skirted many times, decades before I ever moved to the so-called Garden State. To the uneducated eye, the area remains beautiful; in the autumn, in particular, it is breathtaking. But what God has wrought, man’s greed and utter disregard for his fellow humans has made ugly and deadly.
Witness the facts as presented in the series and recapped here: facts based upon documentation from the Ford Motor Company, the EPA (Environmental Protection Agency), the accounts of numerous eyewitnesses/victims, and the findings of medical experts and respected, independent scientists.
1. In 1966, Ford Motor Company purchased 900 acres of a once-pristine area in the Ramapough (A.K.A. Ramapo) Mountains of Northern New Jersey. There, they built an automotive manufacturing plant. The area was so large that they allowed the Native American Ramapoughs, who had occupied that land for centuries, to continue living there.
2. In 1967, Ford began dumping toxic waste — the detritus of its manufacturing processes — into three designated dumpsites in the area, including dormant mineshafts (the place had once been a large mining community). In 1967, the EPA had not yet emerged as a watchdog for human health and safety, so the dumping continued unmitigated and often secretively, in the wee hours of the night. Mass quantities of toxic waste (thousands of pounds daily) were dumped not only into the three designated sites, but into other areas as well.
Fly over the Ramapo Mountains and you will see, lying incongruously and stealthily among the green trees and shrubs, dried lakes of bright blue, red, and tan. These are the waste products of paint whose colors, decades later, are as vibrant as the day they were applied to the cars churned off the assembly line.
3. What you won’t see, unless you look and tread very carefully, is how the paint, discarded metals, and other waste infiltrated and tainted so very many other areas: how the toxins are now literally part of the landscape, how they have seeped into a reservoir whose water is consumed by than 2 million people, and how they impacted every level of the food chain.
What you also won’t see is the lethal dioxin that was burned off in the Ford Motor Factory, leaving a deadly dust that carpeted the land and all that lived upon it.
4. Legal counsel for the Ramapough Native Americans, who are located in both Tennessee and California, have failed to find a single case of this magnitude in our nation. What I mean is, there exists no other case of toxic dumping at such tremendous levels affecting so very many people over more than four decades.
5. In a normal class action suit involving tort, 15% to 20% of the population in question has been adversely affected by the party they are suing. But with the Ramapoughs, roughly 95% of the population has been affected!
One area in particular is known as “Cancer Row.” Every house here has been visited by cancer and in many cases, by The Grim Reaper. No individual lives into his or her 70s in this area, which, prior to Ford’s presence, supported a healthy population of elderly people.
Children, adolescents, and adults are routinely diagnosed with multiple cancers; many have died as a result. Those who are still on this Earth are not exempt from a myriad of other health issues, including but not limited to gall stones the size of which seasoned medical professionals have never before seen, skin ailments requiring surgical excising of large areas of one’s skin, and unexplained bleeding from the throat, eyes, ears, and mouth.
Stumped, local doctors advised one 29-year-old woman that she suffered from lupus and all manner of other diseases; all were incorrect diagnoses. Finally diagnosed properly by healthcare professionals in New York City, the woman learned that she suffers from heavy metal poisoning. A newlywed, she was also counseled not to try to conceive, as “it won’t live.”
6. On seven separate occasions, Ford Motor Company was contacted about this situation. They had declined to be interviewed for the documentary, which speaks volumes. Their representatives claim that the company has taken the necessary remedial steps, but the evidence says otherwise. That evidence includes dioxin dust found and confirmed as dioxin in the attics of the Ramapough people as well as the paint, and other heavy metals that the company dumped without conscience into this area.
7. The EPA was brought in, long before this documentary was filmed, but there has been no respite from that quarter. The EPA’s line is that the toxins have all been removed, and that the area is now safe. Both are blatant lies. Whether this is incompetence on the part of the EPA or whether money greased certain palms, we don’t yet know.
8. Ford has published a number of articles concerning the character of the Ramapough Native Americans. In a nutshell, these people have been painted as one step above Cro-Magnon Man: another out and out lie. The tone of every one of these articles, all published after the Ramapoughs had became increasingly vocal, is insidious and frightening. Ford’s view of these people is that they are disposable, and that they are not to be believed. If one group of Americans is “disposable” to Corporate America, then we are all disposable. None of us is safe.
9. In desperation, and having no other recourse, the Ramapoughs and their tireless, dedicated attorneys have mounted a case against Ford Motor Company.
As I’ve said, I don’t yet know how the story ends, but I promise to return, to report it to you.
The plight of the Ramapoughs, and the blind eye that they have received from a mega-corporation and our own government is not simply “their problem.” If it can happen in the once unspoiled Ramapough Mountains of New Jersey, it can happen anywhere. It can happen in my community. It can happen in yours.
Related Articles:
Mann vs. Ford: An HBO Documentary
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Did you ever march in a peaceful protest or encourage your children to do so? Did you ever watch our nation’s Capitol Building emerge through the mists of a foggy dawn as you joined a group that effected positive change upon our nation without ever firing a shot or aiming a blow? Or did you do so at a grassroots level, right in your own community? If you answered, “Yes,” do you still hold tight to those values? Or, do you go about your daily business in a cocoon, cowed by a state of affairs that our government has engendered and promoted? Does the economy, rampant unemployment, the national debt about to crash-land, and the rising crime rate make you imitate an ostrich, forget that we are all truly connected, and ignore the fact that we share a common, once-proud land called the United States of America? Or does the fire still burn in your heart? Do you still rage against the machine through the way that you vote, the way that you protest, and the way that you educate yourself concerning matters to which the our government turns a blind eye?
Answer these questions carefully, please, for you are about to discover a situation that impacts us all — particularly New Jerseyans, New Yorkers living on the New York-Jersey border, and residents of Big Apple.
If you’ve ever traversed the Ramapo Mountains in northern New Jersey, you must have felt this area to be an oasis not far from the maddening crowd. Carpeted with lush forests in the spring, the mountains are green; dying a glorious death in autumn, those woods make a blazing, breathtaking patchwork that can be seen for miles around. But a mere forty miles from Manhattan Island, all is not as pristine as it seems in the Ramapo Mountains, home for centuries to the Ramapo Native Americans.
In the still-Baby Booming 1960s, when Americans loved and drove great big gas-guzzlers, auto manufacturers fed those desires with increased production. Ford Motor Company was one such manufacturer. In Mahwah, lying close to the Ramapos, Ford purchased land once handed down through generations of Ramapo Native Americans. They did so in order to acquire a secret and illegal dumping ground for the detritus of their production facilities. Their toxic waste poisoned the beautiful woods and abandoned iron mines surrounding the homes of the Natives.
That waste seeped into the land, tainting the entire food chain, including some of the water that we Jerseyans and New Yorkers drink. “But that water is treated,” you say. “Governmental regulatory agencies assure that it is.” Are you certain? How sure would you be if you discovered that the EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) was not only in on this situation but covered up the most salient portion of it? It’s true: the EPA not only neglected to ensure that Ford take necessary remedial steps to clean up their toxic waste, this governmental watchdog also declared the area safe and clean when it was anything but!
Are you interested now in learning more? If so, tune in to HBO on Monday, July 18th at 9 PM ET/PT. Watch the debut of an exclusive film, MANN v. FORD to further your education about this dangerous, unconscionable situation right here in our own backyard.
Check out the trailer for this ground-breaking HBO Documentary:
For further information, please visit:
http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/mann-v-ford/detail/resources.html.
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