Tuesday, July 16, 2013

From Pill Mills to Counseling Centers





In the first part of this  post I am going to summarize an article by Kristen Gwynne on the drug Suboxone that appeared in the online site Salon on August 22, 2012 (click here). It appears that the pain clinics, or “pill mills,” which wildly over-dispensed OxyContin (generic name oxycodone) in Portsmouth and Scioto County are being replaced by “counseling centers” that will be dispensing Suboxone to people addicted to opioids ( a synthetic drug resembling opium), of which the most popular  and deadly one in Portsmouth was oxycodone (OxyContin). The name Suboxone suggests to me that it is a substitute, not only pharmaceutically but financially, for oxycodone. Suboxone and oxycodone are pharmaceutical cousins, but Suboxone is less toxic.  Taking the less toxic Suboxone is supposed to make the withdrawal from the more toxic opioides like oxycodone easier. But as Gwynne points out there are serious problems with Suboxone. She interviewed Joe, a 23-year-old recovering addict who has been using Suboxone for three years. For much of that time he has been self-medicating with Suboxone, which he buys on the black market because the cost is cheaper than it would be if he were seeing a doctor and visiting a clinic. Joe says that if he were seeing a doctor and visiting a clinic,   a 90-day treatment program would cost him  $35,000. Because he doesn’t have insurance, or $35,000, he turns to the black market, where it is cheaper. But finding a doctor to treat him would not be easy in any case. Seventy-five percent of doctors qualified to prescribe Suboxone are limited to treating 30 patients a year, and twenty-five percent are allowed to treat 100 a year. Joe has been dependent on Suboxone five times longer than he was on OxyContin, so there is a dependency problem with Suboxone at least for some addicts. The owner of the new counseling center in Portsmouth is quoted as saying Suboxone is not addictive. That statement is not true.

The title of Gwynne’s article on Suboxone is “Doctors and Dealers Battle for Addicts.” Will that be the situation in Scioto County and in Portsmouth in particular? Is there already, a competition between doctors and drug dealers for addicts? Is there already a black market for Suboxone? 

 Lysol, Clearasil, and Suboxone

A British conglomerate, Reckitt-Benckiser (RB),  originally developed Suboxone.  Many of the cleaning, polishing, and other household products in the American homes are manufactured by RB, which hadn’t had  much experience with pharmaceuticals. RB originally manufactured Suboxone in pill form, but the U.S. Food and Drug Administration notified them that an alarming number of children were being poisoned by the drug. Reckitt-Benckiser made the drug child-proof by producing Suboxone in strips, which are placed under the tongue, where the drug is slowly absorbed into the blood stream. Since the law requires bottles with dangerous drugs to have child-proof caps, the question arises just how kids were getting access to the pills. The only answer that I can think of (Reckitt-Benckiser didn’t provide an explanation on their website: click here) is that the child-proof caps on medicine bottles in households with drug- addicted adults were not always put back on once they were taken off, nor were they likely put back in the medicine cabinet, if they had even ever been put there. This problem serves to remind us that drug-addicted people do not, probably cannot, act responsibly, even when the safety of children is concerned.

In God We Trust. All Others Pay Cash

The doctors and pill mills of Scioto County did a cash only business with oxycodone. Will it be the same  in Portsmouth with Suboxone? If so, we can  expect that addicts, some of whom will be attracted to Portsmouth because of Suboxone dispensing “counseling centers, will turn to breaking into homes and cars to help pay for the drug, as they did with oxycodone. Because counseling centers, like the pill mills, will be bringing money into the city, the tendency will be to scrutinize them less closely, especially if they are advertising in the Daily Times and the Community Common, but the price the community may have to pay for the kind of patients, or customers, counseling centers attract will in the final analysis be much too  high, even higher than the $35,000 Joe couldnt pay every ninety days.
   

                     You put Suboxone under your tongue and what do you get,
                     Ninety days older and $35,000 in debt.
                     St. Peter don’t open those Pearly Gates 'cause I can’t enter, 
                     I owe my soul to the counseling center.



A sub-lingual Suboxone strip









Wednesday, July 10, 2013

The Seventh Heaven and the Seventy Virgins

A marathoner assisting one of the wounded



















Having grown up in Boston, I may have been more affected by the Marathon Bombing than I otherwise would have been. I have thought about it often since April 15 and gave myself a crash course on the Abrahamic religions. I am certainly no expert, but what follows  is just a slice of what I learned, with my prejudices thrown in. I also posted a poem on my website, Poems Old and New (click here)

Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are known as Abrahamic religions because all three accept Abraham as the first prophet of the one  god all three religions profess to believe in, the god Jews call Yahweh, Christians call the Father, and Muslims call Allah. The Abrahamic religions believe also in the Seventh Heaven, the highest heaven, where the Throne of God, the absolute center of god’s realm,  is located.

Jews, Christians, and Muslims agree on the Abrahamic god, but they disagree on which of them are the Abrahamic god’s chosen people and disagree on which of them, therefore, are going to heaven. Jews believed in heaven but they also believed  that they were excluded from any part of it because they were unworthy. For Jews, Judaism was a cross to be borne. “It appears most unlikely,” J. Edward Wright observed in The Early History of Heaven (Oxford, 2000), “that in the biblical period anyone [any Jew] thought they could or would ascend to heaven.” For most of their history the long suffering Jews felt unworthy of anything better than Sheol, the grim abode of the dead where, according to Isaiah (14:9-10), “Worms are your bed, maggots your blanket.” It’s a good thing the Jews did not believe in proselytizing, because if they had nothing better to offer than Sheol they would have gotten nowhere.

Unlike the Jews, Christians believed they qualified for heaven. But  there was a fly in the Christian ointment—boredom.  Mark Twain complained the Christian heaven lacked those vices that made life worth living.  No drinking, no gambling, and, worst of all, no sex .In the epistolary Letters from the Earth, which Twain had not dared publish in his lifetime, the  devil wrote letters deriding the  inanity  of the average Christian.  “For instance,” Twain’s devil wrote, “he has imagined a heaven, and left entirely out of it the supremest  of all his delights, the one ecstasy that stands first and foremost in the heart of every individual of his race—and ours—sexual intercourse!” In Heaven in the American Imagination, Gary Scott Smith pointed out that surveys revealed, to no one’s surprise, that the vast majority of Christians believed sex was unsuitable for heaven.

Islamic Paradise

Islamists did not make the same mistake. They did not leave sex out of their paradise. The Islamic paradise was a sultan’s dream,  a garden of delights and grand palaces containing harems. “Pious Muslims,” Wright wrote,  “learn that luxurious palaces, verdant gardens, magnificent feasts, and all manner of unending pleasure await them as rewards for their fidelity to the ways of Islam.” The pièce de résistance of  the Islamic paradise, at least for males, were  nubile virgins.  “These indescribably gorgeous, virginal female beings,” Wright explains, “exist in paradise to attend to the pious Muslim male’s every physical and sexual desire.” According to one holy Islamic source, a typical palace in the Islamic heaven is made from a pearl, and in accordance with the mystical sacredness of the number seventy, “within it are 70 courts of red ruby,  in every court 70 houses of green emerald, in every house 70 bedrooms and in every bedroom 70 sleeping mats from every color, and on every mat a woman . . .”  Physically, the virgins of paradise are far purer than earthly females, who naturally, like all humans,  produce unpleasant waste products.   But the heavenly virgins, or houris, the Sunni Islamic scholar Al-Bukjari wrote, “will not urinate, relieve nature, spit, or have any nasal secretions.” Even their sweat will smell like musk, and of course they do not menstruate. The palatial, voluptuous Islamic heaven is all the more irresistible to Muslim males because it is the antithesis of the puritanical, sexually repressive society that Islam, through Sharia law, imposes on living Muslims.

Tamerlan and Dzhokhar

Among the motives that led Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev to plant pressure cooker  bombs near the finish line of the   Boston Marathon was their belief  that as martyrs they would go directly to paradise. It was not the brothers’ only motivation, of course, but it was certainly an important one. As Dzhokhar would make clear after the bombings, the expectation of paradise was on their mind during their brief but bloody career as jihadists. The degree to which their expectation  was important to them  was revealed  on April 19, four days after the bombings, when  Dzhokhar, sure that his brother was dead and that he too would be soon,  scrawled what he apparently intended as dying words on the hull of the boat he was hiding in. The full text of what he wrote will not be released until his trial, where it is expected to be introduced as evidence, but those who read what he wrote quoted parts of it to reporters. Unnamed officials told CBS News that  the wounded Dzhokhar had written, among other things,  that his brother was already in paradise and that he expected to join him soon. Just as sex is used in consumer societies  to sell everything from cars to cologne, in repressive Islamic societies sex is used to sell jihadism.  Controlling and regulating the  drive of younger males  is a major  challenge for every society, but Islam not only controls and regulates, it also exploits that drive  by promising that the pleasures rigidly restricted  in this life will be allowed untrammeled expression, in idealized form,  in the next. The hierarchical Islamic heaven has seven levels and those martyrs who die fighting for the holy cause will experience eternal bliss in the seventh heaven.

The Devout Sniper

“The Confessions of a Sniper,” a feature story in  Time Magazine  (17 Dec. 2012) detailed the career of a jihadist identified only as” the Sniper.”  A Syrian rather than a Chechen, the Sniper had migrated in his teens to Germany, where he adopted a European life style, becoming among other things  an avid boxer. But the secular life and boxing proved unfulfilling, and in 2010, after five years in Germany, he returned to Syria,  where he studied the Koran and became a devout and militant  Muslim. Like Tamerlan Tsarnaev, he turned the aggressiveness that he previously found an outlet for in boxing against those he considered the  enemies of Islam. Opposed to the government of  the dictator Bashar-al-Assad, he joined Liwa Suqoor al-Sha‘ba, a radical Islamic rebel group as a sniper. As a devoutly Islamic sniper, his rifle became  not just a physical extension of himself but an expression of his faith.  He told the Time reporter, “My rifle has become not just a part of my body. It is my life, my destiny.” His rifle became his passport to paradise. In his  first encounter, an ambush of government troops on a road to a town on the outskirts of  Alleppo, he felt intensely religious. “My heart was filled with faith,” he said.  A seasoned Islamist comrade reminded him during the ambush that if he was killed  he would go straight to paradise. “I was sorry that I lived,” he admitted to the reporter.  Only twenty-one, he wanted to die a martyr.  So did the nineteen-year-old Dzhokhar Tsarnaev as he lay bleeding in the boat in Boston.  The ongoing undeclared religious war among Abrahamists was misnamed the War on Terror by the Bush administration. In that religious war, non-Muslims underestimate at their peril the appeal of the Islamic heaven to Muslim males, particularly to younger Muslim males, who are not only willing but eager  to martyr themselves.  The Sniper admired the rebel group Jabhat al-Nusra, and was in awe of the suicide attacks they made against government targets, no doubt envying  those who had been killed because they were now in paradise. When he was pure enough, when he had succeeded in completely cleansing his mind and body, he hoped to join Jabhat al-Nusra. While the Sniper looks forward to dying a martyr,  Dzhokhar  Tsarnaev, in the meanwhile, awaits his trial, praying perhaps he will be found guilty and executed, achieving  the martyrdom he had been denied when he did not bleed to death  in the boat in Boston.

Postscript

When he arrived in court for arraignment on Wednesday, July 10, a group of Dzhokhar’s supporters cheered. He pleaded not guilty to the charges. It is possible that in our celebrity-drugged American culture he could become, and perhaps already is,  a teen idol,  and in the Islamic world, if he is finally executed, he will be a martyr. If Islam is the culmination of the Abrahamic tradition, and if what Muslims preach is true, he will go directly to heaven, to the Seventh Heaven. And who knows, maybe even the god of Abraham, disgusted with our corrupt, materialistic  American culture, might say, as Dzhokhar  reportedly scrawled on the inside of the boat, “Fuck America.”

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Trash Talk: The Rat and the Unelected Mayor



The Rat and and the Unelected Mayor 

R: What I want to know is when you’re gonna stop this cockamamie trash collection schedule that’s never the same.

M: I told you it’s very simple. On designated holidays, everyone’s collection moves up one day. So if it’s on Monday, when the next holiday comes it’s on Tuesday. And if you’re pickup day is Tuesday, when the holiday comes it’s on Wednesday.

R: And if it’s on Thursday?

M: Then the pickup day is Friday if there’s a designated  holiday.

R: What’s a designated holiday?

M: You rats don’t know what a designated holiday is?

R: It’s not just rats that don’t know what designated holidays are. Most of the people in this town don’t know what they are or when they are.

M: Who told you that?

R: Never mind. I’ve got my sources.

M: Well, look Rodney, try to understand . . .

R: Rodney? I’m here on official business, so please address me as  Mayor Rodney.

M: Mayor?

R: That’s right. I‘m the duly elected mayor of the rats of Portsmouth. I wasn’t appointed like you, and I want the respect due me in my role as mayor. Didn’t you complain at a council meeting that the public weren’t addressing you by your proper title? And you hadn’t even been appointed mayor yet. You were just president of council. What did you want them to call you, Mr. President?

M: Let’s get back to the trash pickups and designated holidays.Why is it so hard to understand? If your pickup day is Monday, when the holiday comes it’s changed to Tuesday.

R: When there's a designated holiday?

M: That’s right.

R: Like St. Patrick’s Day?

M: No, St. Patrick’s Day is not a designated holiday.

R: It’s not?

M: No, it’s not.

R: Why not?

M: Because it’s not important. It’s not a legal holiday.

R: It’s not legal?

M: No.

R: It sounds like discrimination against us rats of Irish ancestry.

M: You’re an Irish rat?

R: My great-great-great-great grandfather came over on a boat from Ireland more than a hundred years ago.

M: But St. Patrick’s Day is not a designated holiday.

R: So, it’s an illegal holiday?

M: No, I wouldn’t say illegal.

R: Was it illegal when that woman brought two bags of trash to your office because she couldn't figure out your crazy pickup schedule?

M: I don't know what you're talking about.

R: Your memory's not much better than your math, is it?

M: We're talking about the trash schedule, not my math.










R: How about St. Valentine’s Day? Is that a designated holiday?

M: No, it’s not a legal holiday.

R: You’re a Protestant aren’t you?

M: That’s right.

R: What have you got against saints, Mayor?

M: Saints?

R: St. Patrick and St. Valentine. And while we’re at it what have you got against homosexuals?

M: They’re an abomination.

R: Who says?

M: The bible says, “You shall not lie with a man as with a woman. It’s an abomination.”

R: So you’re not a homosexual?

M: Absolutely not.

R: Are you an adulterer?

M: What has that go to do with trash pickups?

R: You know what it says in the bible about adulterers? “If a man is discovered committing adultery, both he and the woman must die.” Deuteronomy, Chapter 22, Verse 22-24.

M: What’s the big hang up about trash days? 

R: The big hangup is you're switching them around.  We’re creatures of habit, us rats, believe it or not. My father and my grandfather before him could count on the trash being picked up on the same day every week, like clockwork, depending on which ward we’re talking about.  On Monday, they would take the sewer to the First Ward. On Tuesdays they would take the sewer to the Second Ward. Etcetera. Five days a week, six in my grandfather’s day. They knew where they could get a square meal every night. But no more. Now it’s chaos. Neither the rats or the people know what the hell’s going on with the trash.

M: I’m sorry. We can’t afford that system anymore.

R: Because you don’t want to pay the hardworking sanitation crews overtime.

M: We can’t afford to pay them overtime.

R: But you can afford to pay the police and fire plenty of overtime. You've driven the city close to bankruptcy with all their overtime.

M: They’re doing essential work

R: And picking up the garbage isn’t essential?

M: It’s not garbage, It’s trash.

R: Says you. The sanitation crews know and us rats know that plenty of it’s garbage, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. No self-respecting rat is interested in trash.

M: This meeting is now over. I’m a busy man.

R: Busy? Why you're one of the laziest men in this city. In fact, you’ve  been avoiding work all your life. 

M: Who told you that?

R: I've got my sources. You were on the state payroll as a so-called laborer on the roads, but you were a notorious goldbricker, before you moved on to your current racket.

M: Religion?

R: Portsmouth politics, where there are more abominations than there are rats in the overflowing sewers of Portsmouth.

M: If you don’t leave this office, I’m going to call the police.

R: I’m going. I’m going.  But before we end this trash talk, let me  recommend a website. It’s BibleTrash.com.  And I’ll provide a link for you (click) here.

M: Are you an atheist? An atheist rat?

R: I'm  free-thinking rat. 

M: Then I'll follow you out.

R: Why?

M: Because I'm going out on the steps of the Municipal Building  and pray to the Lord to rid Portsmouth of rats. 

R: Save your breath. Your Waste Water Manager Duncan is drowning us rats faster with his flooded sewers and basements than the Lord can do in a month of Sundays.

M: (picking up the bible from the desk) Here it is. Isaiah, 55:17:
". . .those who eat the flesh of pigs, rats and other unclean things—they will meet their end together with the one they follow."

R: I think I speak for all my constituents when I say if your prayers against rats are as effective as your prayers for prosperity we don't have anything to worry about.

M: But the bible says . . .

R: Oh, the bible says so many things, like death is going to come to adulterers, and that the slothful are not fit to rule (Proverbs, 12:24), but there you sit in the mayor's chair, which you are not qualified for and to which you were not elected. It's a wonder anybody in this trashy city has faith in anything. Incidentally, what does the bible say about bankrupts? 


". . .those who eat the flesh of pigs,
 rats and other unclean things—
they will meet their end together
 with the one they follow."




 




Thursday, June 13, 2013

All Aboard the Twentieth Century Limited!






The crooked conductor on the Twentieth Century Ltd. 
As the January 2014 transition deadline approaches for the change in city government (click here), I want to call your attention to an article that appeared in the Yale Law Journal in 2006 on the subject of the mayoral versus the city manager form of government (click  here to read the article). Written by “Richard C. Schragger, a professor at the University of Virginia Law School, the article seeks to answer the question posed by its title: “Can Strong Mayors Empower Weak Cities?” By “strong mayors” Schragger refers not to Schwarzenmayors but to males and females who have strong executive powers by reason of the city charter and/or the state law in the area where they hold office. By “weak cities” Schragger means, well,  cities like Portsmouth, which are the stepchild of  the states in which they are located. In the four levels of government—federal, state, county,  and local—cities are at the bottom of the political food chain,  and generally have to subsist on scraps thrown to them from the federal, state, and county levels above them.  The top to bottom structure is dominated from the top by the federal government, which shares power with the states, as is provided for in the U.S. Constitution, but state constitutions usually do not follow suit, providing little recognition and power to city governments. “This arrangement,” Schragger writes, “in which cities are formally subservient to states, has significant consequences for local political actors.” The particular local actor who suffers most in this arrangement is the mayor, because she is the chief executive government in city government, but  she has relatively little authority to carry out her responsibilities.
Because their powers are limited, too many mayors have historically resorted to underhanded methods to make up for their lack of clout. Corruption became synonymous with city government in the late 1800s, with mayors and council members (or aldermen) competing with each other for graft. Early in the 1900s (that is to say, the twentieth century), in the decade and a half known as the Progressive Era, reformers, especially in urban cities, cracked down on corruption and helped promote the change to the city manager form of government. Many mid-size and smaller cities followed the example of the larger cities. The aim of the reform movement was to take politics out of city government by replacing mayors with professional (appointed-as-opposed-to-elected) city managers, who had the educational qualifications and training to run a city after the fashion of a business. Or at least that was the hope. 
                           Century of the City Manager
The twentieth century can be said to be the century of the city manager, but well before the century was over a number of cities grew dissatisfied with that form of government and began switching back to the mayoral form of government. Portsmouth was one of those cities, switching back in 1988. The twenty-first century is shaping up to be the century of the strong mayoral form of city government, according to Schragger. At least that’s the way things are trending, possibly because chronically depressed cities like Portsmouth cannot afford to have city managers as chief executive officers. City managers have no political power—they’re not supposed to have political power—but  cities cannot get by with politically impotent chief executive officers. Former Portsmouth city manager Barry Feldman, whose whole city manager career was marked by controversy, offered advice for aspiring city managers in the doctoral dissertation he later wrote at the University of Connecticut: be as political as you can get away with,  because without political influence a city manager is a cross between a punching bag and a doormat, even if he she has more education and a higher salary than city council, whom the city managers have to answer to. I’ve been told by a former city council member that Feldman serves as Kevin W. Johnson’s guru when it comes to questions of governance. Heaven help Portsmouth if  that’s true, because somebody should write a dissertation on Feldman’s career, which illustrates the futility of the city manager form of government. Johnson gives every sign of being as underhanded and dishonest as Feldman, which qualifies him to be Portsmouth’s next city manager. 
                                Progress, Portsmouth Style 
            Switching back to city manager is the most important (and deleterious) thing that has happened in city government in  Portsmouth in the last thirty years, but with Johnson’s connivance the measure was put on an off-year ballot without many voters knowing what was happening. Something that important deserved more time for consideration, and a vote in a general election, which was apparently what supporters of the switch back did not want. In homosexual hating Appalachia, Johnson, whose career took him from West Virginia, to San Francisco, to Portsmouth,  would queer any project he was identified with, so they knew better than to allow more time for consideration and discussion. That Johnson  is also underhanded, as he has frequently  shown himself to be, as on the so-called “building committee,” makes him a favorite target for the homophobes on Topix, who denounce him as not only queer but corrupt. From a drug-dealing pimp to this. That’s progress, Portsmouth style.
Frank Gerlach, who may be the  only person in Portsmouth’s history to serve as both city manager and mayor, strongly advised against switching back.  But what does he know, a successful lawyer and seasoned leader? Granted that the terrible trio of Greg Bauer, Jim Kalb, and David Malone are the best argument against the mayoral system that anyone might possibly make, but removing the mayor, except as a ceremonial figure, from the city government, will be worse because at least the office of the mayor serves a check and a balance to the city council and leaves open the possibility that somebody who is not a pawn may occupy the office. But without the  checks and balances the mayoral form of government potentially allows, we will have Kevin W. Johnson as the crooked conductor on the train the apt name for which is the Twentieth Century Limited, which will take  Portsmouth back to the previous, or possibly even to the nineteenth century. “All Aboard!”  Will Portsmouth never live down the curse of Barry Feldman? All aboard! Will it ever it stop being a weak city? All aboard! Will it ever have a mayor again, a strong mayor, who will not be railroaded out of office by the usual suspects for whom most of the failures occupying public office are nothing but puppets. All aboard! The painful irony is that this form of business-like governance will be run by chronic losers whose own business ventures, like the Emporium (that historic landmark!) have ended in failure, if not bankruptcy.


Portsmouth's railroad terminal building was razed to make way for the county jail.
(Click here)




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Monday, June 10, 2013

Kasich Worst on Open Records


"Kasich Worst on Open Records"
from Plunderbund (click here)


Governor Kasich signs law exempting rabid dogs from Ohio’s onerous open records laws as Fifi, spokesdog for RRCK (Rabid Republican Canines for Kasich) looks on approvingly. Governor Kasich told reporters afterwards that convicted sex offenders living within 1000  feet of schools are the last group still covered by Ohio’s onerous open records laws and he vowed to see sex offenders exempted before the year is out. With that last barrier to free enterprise removed, he is sure JobsOhio will forge ahead.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Gee Wiz!




"Ohio State University President Gordon Gee said Notre Dame was never invited to join the Big Ten because the university’s priests are not good partners, joking that 'those damn Catholics can’t be trusted,' according to a recording from late last year."
                                                                                                     News item




"All right, have it your way. You heard Gordon Gee say,
 'Those damn Catholics can't be trusted.'"

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Kevin W. Johnson: Selling Out


[What follows is a condensed and slightly revised version of a 2008 River Vices  posting, to which I have added a postscript.]


Portsmouth businessman Kevin Johnson is playing an important role in helping the city’s corrupt politicians recycle the Marting Scam, which has morphed into the “City Center Scam.” The City Center Scam is a scheme to turn the 124-year-old decrepit Marting building into a home for city offices, with mom and pop kiosks on the ground floor to sell notions and newspapers. 

The citizens of Portsmouth rejected the Marting Scam by more than 2 to 1 in a referendum in May 2006, but the crooks are back again in 2008, recycling what they failed to sell the first time, repackaging it as the City Center, with Kevin Johnson up to his neck in the lies and “petitions” being circulated to fool the public into thinking that the old, unoccupied, leaking Marting building, with its ugly phony-brick 1950s' façade, is the key to the revival of downtown Portsmouth. After my legal challenge to First Ward councilman Tim Loper resulted in his removal from office, Johnson harbored political ambitions of being appointed to replace him. But the city chose Mearan, perhaps with the philosophy of “better the devil you know.” Now Johnson, as a member of the City Building Committee, has shown he is a team player who follows the rules by which the crooked game is played.

The Emporium

Kevin Johnson, or Kevin Warren as he is listed on the Scioto County Auditor’s website, is the co-owner of the Emporium antique shop, at 607 Chillicothe St. His partner is Paul Johnson, whose last name he has apparently taken. The irony is that Kevin Johnson, or Kevin Warren, this crusader for the revival of downtown Portsmouth, is reportedly trying to sell the Emporium. He’s going to sell out, after about five years in business, if only he can find a buyer as foolish as he was when he started the business. He’s going to sell out and move out, although a case could be made that he had already sold out when he became a member of the City Building Committee, chaired by the nefarious Mike Mearan. Johnson's sellout may in the end help him unload the Emporium.

What a poster boy Johnson is for downtown renewal! What in the world was he and his partner thinking when they opened another antique shop in Portsmouth? The Emporium is all the evidence you need that downtown Portsmouth died forty years ago but nobody has buried the corpse, of which the Marting building is the stinking head. The people in our down-at-the-heels-crime-ridden-community needed another antique shop like they needed another prostitute on John St., or more doped-up drug dealers on Waller St., or like they needed another chop shop/oxycontin dealership like West End Auto. After visiting the Emporium website, I wondered who among us needs a Marting Shoe Polisher can, a life-sized cut-out of Marilyn Monroe having her skirt blown up over a subway grate; or a copy of a 33 1/3 Velvet Underground vinyl record (shown at left); or a Black Forest Cuckoo Clock?  Doesn’t Kevin Johnson realize that the local rednecks, according to Clayton Johnson, don’t even know how to set an alarm clock? Would potential customers who don’t know how to set an alarm clock pay $125 for an antique cuckoo clock?

The Emporium had moved into the empty building that had previously been occupied by Stapleton Office Supplies, which had held on as long as it could before heading for greener pastures, heading for anywhere, that is, other than downtown Portsmouth, just as Sears Roebuck had previously moved out of that same building. Why did Kevin Johnson think there would be any more customers for antiques than there had been for office supplies, or for pet grooming, or for Speedo bathing suits, or quilts, to name some of the businesses that have come and gone in the last twenty years on Chillicothe StreetPortsmouth was already the antique/junk shop capital of south-central Ohio before the Johnsons arrived. Having another antique shop was like bringing coke to New Boston or oxycontin to Portsmouth. We’ve already got enough of that stuff.

I talked to Stapleton’s employees the week before it closed. It was a sad occasion, but Stapleton’s understood the time had come to get out. The Marting Foundation is trying to con everyone into believing downtown can be revived, like the  dinosaurs  in Jurassic Park. The dream of recreating the bustling downtown Portsmouth of 60 years ago is a myth that Clayton Johnson and others perpetrate and exploit, just as unscrupulous evangelists exploit the hope of everlasting life. Unfortunately, the only thing that is likely to revive downtown Portsmouth is casino gambling.

Gambling



That’s probably what Kevin Johnson was betting on too when he opened the Emporium. As I reported in an earlier River Vices blog, “Sluts and Slots,” the Portsmouth Daily Times (28 June 2005) ran a front-page story [above] with the headline “Gambling Draws Local Support.” What did this local support consist of? One person, Kevin Johnson, who, the PDT reported, “said casinos could mean turning around the local economy.” Maybe gambling would eventually turn around the local economy, but not soon enough, as it turned out, to save the Emporium.

Will someone buy the Emporium or will it remain on the market for a long time? If the City Center becomes a reality, maybe Johnson can attract buyers for the Emporium by claiming that things are looking up downtown. As somebody with a lot of white elephants on his hands, he has a vested interest in the proposed City Center, which may explain why he wants the city to invest millions of dollars in renovating Marting’s, though many citizens are adamantly opposed to and voted against it. Gambling did not save the Emporium. Portsmouth did not bail him out, but he apparently hopes the the City  Center will. But if the City Center doesn't materialize, if all other avenues are closed, he can try to unload the building on the public as the Marting Foundation did the Marting Building and George Clayton did the Kendrick’s retail store building. Johnson has tried to make the case that the building the Emporium occupies has architectural and historical importance. “In recognition of our [restoration] efforts,” the Johnsons tell us on their Emporium website, “the City of Portsmouth designated our building as a historic site in late 2002, and plans are to restore the exterior of the building in the near future.” What malarkey! There is nothing historic or architecturally significant about the building the  Emporium occupies. Designating the building historic was a political payoff to Johnson who from the time he arrived in the city courted corrupt politicians like Jim Kalb and supported the Marting Scam. As a historic site, the Emporium building has more chance of being unloaded on the taxpayers, as the "historic" Marting building was. If he does unload the building on the taxpayers, it will be his reward for having sold out to the crooks who control the city.

Postscript

As we now know, the City Center did not materialize  and the Marting building remains an albatross around the neck of Portsmouth taxpayers. Kevin W. Johnson did not find a buyer for his business, liquidating the merchandise instead. The "historic" building the business occupied had been on the market for years without attracting any buyers. In the past, following what I call "Portsmouth's First Commandment," influential people with Portsmouth property they could not sell unloaded it on the taxpayers as the Marting Foundation did the "historic" Marting building. But those kind of swindles are now harder to pull off and Johnson does not yet have that kind of influence. He is not yet that kind of Johnson! However, he is good at selling out. A banker who is apparently now a budding politician, Michael Gammp, of the American Savings Bank, purchased the building from Johnson in a move the commercial and political consequences of which are yet to be revealed. Meanwhile, Johnson, has proved himself the most officious council member. His machinations have included returning the city to a city manager form of government, which will put him in the position of being able to control city government, since the mayor will become a position with no power at all, leaving Johnson, as the cleverest politician in city government, to act even more  in his characteristically clandestine manner. Long after he is gone, the city will have to deal with the consequences of the shift back to city manager. When he arrived in Portsmouth, Johnson thought gambling would be a solution to many of the city's problems. Now he thinks the city manager will be. Just wait.

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For earlier related posts click on:

S.O.G.P.

Gambling

The First Commandment of Portsmouth