May daZe

May, 2010 has been a good example of why living in Santa Cruz is so awesome. I'm not just talking about the nice weather, but rather, the events that take place here, on our world stage.

May started out with a roar when during a May Day march, a clan of darkly dressed, masked and hooded hoodlums smashed out many shop windows on Pacific Avenue. Some conservatives blamed rioting Latinos for the damage that was estimated to be over one million dollars. The local media pointed fingers at a group of anarchists, while others have suggested that the riot was masterminded by the budget-cut suffering police department in an attempt to save their jobs. Some have even speculated that the Santa Cruz Down Town Association created the event to draw attention to problems there, and establish a greater police presence. One of the biggest issues is that we don't know who orchestrated the May Daze event. But, officials have decided that there will be no law enforcement layoffs, and a greater police presence down town. Yay!

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The Santa Cruz Film Festival is always fun, and there are always lots of wonderful films to watch. I attended 8: the Mormon Proposition, a rather mean-spirited propaganda piece that blames the Latter-day Saints for everything from fixing California elections to teenage suicides. The film made it seem as though Mormons are completely brainwashed robots who carry out the will of a dark overlord.* I wish the film had been more honest and truthful, but it's difficult to remain objective and emotional at the same time. It was sad to see how LDS Church leaders were unfairly portrayed in the film. It wasn't necessary to distort their faces as they spoke. Good spin effect though. They seemed so spooky. Imagine the outcry if the foe were on the other shoot.

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Amgen came to Santa Cruz on Tuesday, May 18, and turned the town into a bustling bike party.

Dark clouds in the distance appeared threatening, but a sunny sky prevailed all day.
Soon, thousands of people were lined up to witness the finish of round three of America's favorite cycle race.
A Lance Armstrong fan waved her little sign in support of her hero.

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On Friday, May 21, I went to see a Flock of Seagulls play live at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk.
I love seeing punks on beaches. I photographed these two enjoying the 21st century version of new wave. Does that make it old wave now? Or old-school, new wave? Or...?

An actual large flock of seagulls flew overhead as A Flock of Seagulls played their first number. I saw this band at the Us Festival way back in 1983. I shant say more.

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The Steady Ed Memorial Masters Cup Tournament came to the De Laveaga Disc Golf Course last weekend, (May 21-23).
The worlds greatest disc golfers battled it out for three days.

This was the best drive I have ever witnessed on #7. The disc came to rest directly under the basket. Nice chuck!
Putting for birdie.



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On May 23, I attended Cabrillo Chorale at Cabrillo College. I was impressed with the lovely new addition to the music department. The musical performance and the new building were equally beautiful. Bravo!I call this My Imaginary Friends Ensemble

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Mountain Animal Hospital, one of my favorite local bands, played at the Crepe Place on Thursday, May 27. This show celebrated the release of their second CD, called Better Children.
The new music sounded great. The instruments were crystal clear, and the vocal harmonies were inspiring.

Most folks say that Mountain Animal Hospital's genre falls somewhere between progressive and indie. The name of the band suggests a poke at indie band names that so often possess an animal theme, like Vox Jaguars, Deer Tick and Giraffes? Giraffes!. Perhaps Mountain Animal Hospital can provide relief to some sufferers of contemporary musical maladies.

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Thousands of folks from every land came to Santa Cruz this weekend to enjoy some perfect weather, gnarly surf, fine food and some laid back locals for the Memorial Day weekend. Everyone wants to be in Santa Cruz. Got Cruz?

* I spent much of my childhood in Utah, and in my experience, the church isn't nearly as influential as folks would like to believe. As I recall, the number one, most important thing to most Utahn's, is sports. Yes, the inflated ball reigns supreme in the Beehive State. The second most important thing to Utahns is prescription drugs and doctors. Athletes are gods, and doctors are elevated to a position higher than high priests. Utahns also like sweets and snacks, and consume more sugar than any other state, so naturally, the children (and of course, there are a lot of 'em) are a bit hyperactive. But rather than removing the sugar from the child's diet, to deal with the hyperactivity, lots of Utahns tend to medicate them with drugs for ADD and ADHD, etc. beginning a life-long attitude toward acceptance of medication. When these sugar-charged medicated kids get older, they end up on psychosis-inducing psychotropic drugs that too often lead to suicide. Don't blame it on the LDS Church leaders though. Put the blame where it squarely rests, on the doctors and pharmaceutical industry.

Reflections of Santa Cruz

I made a quick trip to the post office early this morning and found that all three drop boxes were completely full and nearly overflowing... stuffed with last-minute holiday cards. I shoved three envelopes into a space in the box, and continued down the street. I hadn't gone far when I noticed a mural reflecting in a pool of rainwater that had accumulated over night. I quickly pulled over and grabbed my camera.

I was stabilizing my awesome little Cannon Power Shot A710 IS against a no parking sign when, out of the corner of my face, I saw a car pull up and stop next to me in the no parking zone. I cast quick a glance toward the visitor to determine whether I needed to run, fight, or prepare to meet my maker. Fortunately it was only a Santa Cruz Police officer.

I continued taking photos of the large puddle when I was approached by the officer who politely asked me what I was doing. It was all too obvious, but I answered his query by telling him that I was attempting to photograph the reflection of the mural before the sun hit the wall. He asked me if I was a photographer, and I said no, but that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a picture of the reflection. As another squad car pulled up for backup, he told me that he had stopped because I looked weird* the way I was squatting on the curb, leaning against the pole. I laughed, and continued snapping photos. He bid me farewell, and politely wished me a good day.

I felt a bit rushed in the presence of the authority figures, therefore the pictures didn't turn out nearly as well as I had hoped. Excuses excuses. Hey, I'm not a photographer... but I play one on Rhetro TV.

* Wow! I feel like I've accomplished something today. It's tough to look weird in Santa Cruz, and I did it.

Surf City Independence Day Police State

The 4th of July, the day we Americans celebrate our declaration of freedom from tyranny. Ironically, Independence Day in Santa Cruz looked more like a resort prison camp than an ideal community on the western edge of the land of the free.

Overnight, makeshift fences were erected in an attempt to keep fireworks and alcohol off of the beaches. In fact, every beach in Santa Cruz County was fenced off with multiple police officers stationed at every entrance. Anyone found to be in possession of fireworks was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Dogs were used to locate any contraband buried in the sand, while officers from SCPD, County Sheriffs and State Park Rangers patrolled the beaches.

Anyone who has been to Santa Cruz on the 4th of July, is aware that the quiet beach town transforms into a war zone, that looks like Baghdad on the eve of the first gulf war... quite a change for the quiet surf community populated by peace-mongers. But on July 4th, the beaches and neighborhoods become battlefields where drunken pyro-soldiers play war games with live ammo consisting of every class of firework one could imagine... and more. To be honest, it's actually quite frightening at times, and no doubt, someone gets hurt quite badly every year.

In a frenzied reaction to the hundreds of wildfires that have been burning in California this summer, our over-zealous governors made a frantic attempt to squelch the fiery festivities this year. But, as usual, Santa Cruz City and County stuck it to the tax payers and hired hundreds of cops paying them overtime holiday wages. A seemingly misappropriation of funds. The ancient concrete roads are crumbling in Seabright, but they'll have to wait... indefinitely, because Santa Cruz City has its priorities.

In the end, Santa Cruzans didn't give into the temporary tyranny wrought upon them, and fought back with a civilian fireworks display that rivaled last year's celebrations. As soon as darkness descended upon Surf City, an uninterrupted barrage of fiery explosions popped, fizzed, boomed and illuminated the night sky for several hours.

The cops were the big winners who got paid to spend the day at the beach, serving and protecting us from ourselves.

Deputies Prevent Dangerous Rhythms on Hwy 9

I was driving down Highway 9 yesterday, and as I approached the curve in the road where the Dead Campers Bike Path begins, I happened upon three Santa Cruz Sheriffs automobiles strategically parked on the left side of the road in an area where people occasionally leave their cars while they bike the trails that wind through the giant Redwoods. Obviously, something big was going down.

I slowed down to observe three deputies surrounding a demonstratively dangerous man, armed with a drumstick in each hand and seated at a large drum set, banging away. He wasn't even wearing a shirt! Let me tell you... it was a frightening sight to behold. Sensing imminent danger, I got out of there as quickly as possible, (not exceeding the legal speed limit of course), and didn't even look back.

I don't know what came of the rowdy rhythmist, but fortunately the serve and protectors were on hand to deal with the dangerous situation appropriately and effectively. It made me proud to know that a portion of the seven thousand dollars I recently paid in taxes, will go to support the salaries, insurance and retirement of those fine officers... not to mention the prison industry they supply.

Money well spent I say.

Cop Chronicles

One of my favorite activities is messing with telephone solicitors when they call my house. This one fell into my lap recently.

"Ring, ring, ring," went the kitchen landline telephone. I quickly checked the caller ID before answering. "Ahoy hoy!" I said, holding the phone firmly to my right ear. "Is this Mr. Zenberg?" the male voice on the line inquired. "Confirmative!" I barked. "Hello Mr. Zenberg, this is Brad Holladay* from the Cops of America Association,* How are you doing this evening, sir?" he asked robotically. "Sparkling! How about yourself?" I asked. "Real fine, thank you, sir." he replied and continued, "Ah, Mr. Zenberg, our organization is committed to help the children of police officers that have been killed in the line of duty to receive a college education..." he continued his pitch while I mentally rehearsed my reply. "How much are you willing to donate today, sir?" he intrusively inquired. "Oh, I'm sorry," I lamented sarcastically. "I just donated all of my charity budget to an organization that raises money for kids who's parents have been killed by cops." I quickly hung up the phone and laughed sardonically until I felt as if I had done three hundred sit-ups.

* Names have been changed to protect the insolent.

This post is the f1rst is a series of real cop chronicles. Watch out for more in the near future...