Through the years, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in New Orleans – the Big Easy – perhaps the most enchanting, yet enervating, city in the world.

In fact, my wife and I were married there – on the muddy, swift-moving Mississippi River aboard the authentic Paddlewheeler Creole Queen – amid the chaos, craziness and incredible pageantry of Mardi Gras.

I have seen New Orleans at her best – and at its worst – and have grown to love it, warts and all.

Despite the spectacular beauty, antebellum charm and almost electric energy of the City that Care Forgot – there has always been an element of real danger – there were 424 murders in Orleans Parish the year we were married (one shooting occurred within 25-yards of us) – and there is an overriding sense that it is a place that doesn’t suffer fools.

For instance, one of the first things an uninitiated tourist learns is – when a stranger with a cigarette tucked behind one ear and a pint of warm gin loitering on any corner of Bourbon Street challenges, “I’ll bet I can tell where you got them shoes, and what street you got them on!” – it’s best to keep walking.

You know the scam, after the rube accepts the bet – the street hustler quickly exclaims, “You got your shoes on your feet, and you’ve got them on Bourbon Street.”

Don’t argue – just pay the man the $10 you owe him. . .

If you’re brave enough (preferably in a group) and you amble into areas outside the French Quarter, you may come upon a guy in a ratty pinstripe suit with slicked-back hair tucked up under a dirty fedora, gathering a crowd for the shell game.

The idea of the sport is simple –  a pea is placed under one of three identical walnut shells, and you simply try to keep track of it while the shells are quickly rearranged.

Usually, there is one guy in the crowd laughing about how bad the hustler is – while another keeps ambling up and placing $100 bets – winning about half the time.

Members of the audience are persuaded to place bets and guess which shell the pea is under – and a player might even win a few bucks.  For a while, anyway.

Then, the grifter will draw the lucky player in ever closer – usually with the help of an encouraging shill working the audience – then rapidly increase the amount of the wager – even allowing the person to place his or her finger on top of the walnut to secure the pea under the exact shell everyone in the crowd saw it placed.

Using wizard-like slight-of-hand, the shark will quickly fleece the unsuspecting dupe – always with a very polished “Awwww, that’s too bad” mock pity – while raking in money hand-over-fist all night long.

It always amazes me that otherwise intelligent people will keep believing, trusting their eyes and failed instincts, even when it becomes apparent they’re being scammed.

You see, a good hustler knows that with the right prompting most people will respond in predictable ways.  Unless you’re the one being hustled – it’s an amazing thing to watch.

I was reminded of this recently when I read the bold headline (frontpage/above the fold) in the Daytona Beach News-Journal entitled, “Rides to the Rescue,” touting the return of carnival rides to the scuzzy wasteland that is the Boardwalk.

“It’s great,” city Redevelopment Director Reed Berger said when he heard about the new rides.

 “This is what we were looking for.  It’s something to do on the Boardwalk.”

 Great.  Yeah.  But why the surprise, Reed?

According to the News-Journal, about a month ago, Berger – perhaps the most ineffective redevelopment official in the history of that dubious trade – entered talks with a South Florida amusement company – Hildebrand Rides – who originally planned to set up Spiders, Twisters, and Rocket Flyers in downtown Riverfront Park this summer.

Apparently, the company works the fall and winter county fair and festival circuit (although the event schedule on their website hasn’t been updated since 2012) and, one assumes from the reporting, that they are looking for a convenient place to set-up shop for the summer months.

Berger convinced the amusement operator to erect a few rides at the Boardwalk instead.

“This is where we needed a catalyst to get that place cleaned up,” Berger said. “The timing all worked out.”

Well, that – and the unmistakable fact that some 10,000 Shriners and their families are breathing down the city’s neck, preparing to flock into town in the next few weeks only to be greeted by the abject squalor, malignant blight and horrific dilapidation that was well documented in a recent photographic tableau on this blogsite – and within clear and open view of anyone who goes anywhere near our core tourist area.

Christ.  How fucking stupid does Mr. Berger think we are?

Please – stop pissing down our backs and blaming it on rain.

It is patently clear to me that the Chamber of Commerce set – and their redundant cronies in the various “convention and visitors bureaus” – who threw off the traces of ethical and moral conduct when they actively courted and encouraged Shriners International to hold their Imperial Session in Daytona Beach – a place hardly ready for primetime, large scale conventions – are getting nervous.

Look, it took a $24,294.25 taxpayer funded bar tab to get it done – but they did it.

Now, just days before tens of thousands show up to be entertained, Reed Berger and company finally get off their numb asses and throw a strategic coat of paint around, sweep some sand under the rug, and haul in a few midway rides to cover up the godforsaken mess that is the storied ruins of our Boardwalk.

Graciously, the “E-Zone’s” benevolent dictator – George Anderson – has entered a short-term “deal” with Hildebrand Rides.

If history holds, Mr. Hildebrand might be in for a ride more terrifying than any Tilt-a-Whirl in his inventory.

“We haven’t talked about anything beyond this summer,” Anderson said in the News-Journal.

Of course they haven’t.  It is what it is.

Eyewash.

A short-term – clumsy sleight-of-hand – designed to put something, anything, in that festering hole in the heart of the only tourist draw on the World’s Most Famous Beach.

I mean, after you’ve taken the wife and kids to the incredibly engaging, always entertaining, Main Street district – or fought off roving bands of aggressive panhandlers for the umpteenth time near the Bandshell – you simply must enjoy the unique sights, sounds and smells of the Boardwalk on a humid Daytona Beach evening.

Right?

Our tourist and redevelopment officials are beginning to get queasy – and their fear is palpable.

As I’ve said before, I’m no marketing strategist – but even a rube like me can understand the impact of negative word-of-mouth by 10,000 victims of a bait-and-switch scam on future convention and tourism business.

And this ham-handed attempt to quickly spruce-things-up on the virtual eve of a mega-convention – while attempting to convince long-suffering residents that a few temporary carnival rides represent a renaissance – is just mean-spirited and unconscionably wrong.

Too little.  Too late.

Like I said, it always amazes me that otherwise intelligent people will keep believing, trusting their eyes and failed instincts, even when it becomes apparent they’re being scammed.

Awwww, that’s too bad. . .

I don’t know about you, but the near constant lecture of citizens by members of the media on the importance of civility in the local and national discourse is wearing thin.

Maybe it’s a sensitive point for me because I write a goofy personal opinion blog focusing on regional politics – and, I admit, I can often resort to salty language or tongue-in-cheek anecdotes to describe my thoughts on the machinations of the local ruling class.

But this ‘do as I say, not as I do’ scolding by print and electronic media outlets in the aftermath of the horrific shooting of a Republican member of Congress and others by a politically obsessed madman in Alexandria, Virginia is, in my view, the epitome of hypocrisy.

In his recent opinion piece, “When political nastiness turns violent,” Pat Rice, the editor of the Daytona Beach News-Journal, wrote:

“These are strange times. Even in local debates about friction-point issues like beach driving or homelessness, it’s become OK to demonize the opposition. What happened to the notion that there can be more than one reasonable point of view?”

He went on to say that in the age of social media, “Anyone with a laptop and time to kill can spread vicious lies.”

What Mr. Rice failed to mention with sufficient emphasis is that news outlets who buy ink by the barrel – or those with 24-hour televised and online access to millions of Americans – can spread some wildly venomous lies as well.

Earlier this year, the internationally respected public opinion pollster Gallup reported in its annual confidence poll that Americans’ trust in the “establishment” media reached its historical nadir with only 32% of consumers stating they have a “great deal or fair amount of trust” in their news sources.

And this growing distrust wasn’t simply an off-shoot of the still highly contentious 2016 presidential election – cynicism, mistrust and wary skepticism of mass reporting has been free-falling for the past 20-years.

As a result, citizens are increasingly turning to alternative sources of news and opinion, even as the tone of our political discourse continues to reach new lows.

Perhaps there’s a connection?

In fact, to my complete surprise, Barker’s View has – as of today – received 90,279 views in just eighteen months, with hundreds searching and reading these screeds daily.

Clearly, the growing popularity of this site has nothing to do with the richness of my writing – or the depth of my intellectual analysis of the news and newsmakers of the day.

Not by a long shot.

Perhaps blogsites like Barker’s View provide a constructive source for the many in Volusia County who are thirsty for an alternative to the regurgitated corporate/government press releases, marketing spin and carefully crafted sound bites that attempt to paint an artificially bright picture of life on the Fun Coast – something that is completely counter to the abject reality of our day-to-day lives in the Halifax area?

Look, if my posts sometimes seem mean-spirited, even hostile towards our elected elite, it is born from the frustration of watching our system of governance co-opted by uber-wealthy power brokers and their store-bought politicians who consistently ignore the will and needs of their constituents.

Who said We, The People are simply supposed to shut up and quietly take what we are handed in the interest of political courtesy?

I cannot think of anything more profane, perverse or anti-American than that.

In short, I – and others like me – are tired of being lied to, ignored and marginalized by the very people we elected to represent our best interests and serve as stewards of our hard-earned tax dollars.

And we will not remain silent.

In my view, our system of governance thrives and does its best work in an atmosphere of robust and spirited debate of the important issues of the day – in fact, it demands it.

A healthy democracy requires the competition of ideas – something that can only happen in a place that values transparency, personal freedom, and the honest exchange of ideas.

Even when that discussion involves concepts that make self-serving politicians and powerful appointed officials uncomfortable.

I like Pat Rice.

In my view, he is a caring and professional newspaperman who has gone the extra mile to ensure that the News-Journal takes the thoughts and suggestions of the people it serves to heart.

Mr. Rice is also busy juggling the incredibly harsh realities of publishing a daily paper in the digital age – a time when the business of news is almost universally controlled by mega-conglomerates with overt political slants –and the non-stop fight to squeeze a profit is reflected in continuing staff reductions and the painful cost saving measures of out-of-state editing, proofing and printing that is ruining the product.

It’s a hard dollar.  I get it.

Interestingly, in his opinion piece, Mr. Rice found space to take a swipe at the President – agreeing with those who believe “…the nastiness increased with Trump’s presidency.”

I hope Mr. Rice would also agree that the cage match known as The Media vs. Donald J. Trump – a hostile, trench warfare-type battle – has resulted in some of the most sustained and caustic attacks on a sitting president ever, and, conversely, the harshest public rebuke of the national media in our history.

He might also concur that this hyper-incendiary, non-stop narrative naturally results in building anger and frustration.

We live in a time when we all consume the same media silage – much of it originating from dubious “unnamed sources” and “persons close to the Oval Office” – where self-righteous talking heads and so-called “journalists” in the paid employ of national media outlets use the exact same language, words, phrases and terms in what passes for “reportage” in 2017 America.

Now, news outlets on all sides of the political spectrum are pointing fingers of blame, insisting that the lunatic perpetrator of the cowardly ambush of Republican politicians was incited to violence by either the virulent, hateful rhetoric of the left – or the often-divisive public policies of the majority party and the White House.

The fact is, this despicable act of terror was the isolated criminal act of a mentally disturbed misfit who resorted to the last horrific act of a coward.

Fortunately, his deranged personal and political motivations died with him.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop “the mainstream media” from immediately politicizing the tragic event – prompting disgusting tweets and posts on social media implying that the attack was somehow deserved, the expected knee-jerk calls for gun control, and wall-to-wall, hour-after-hour speculative “reporting” that transitioned the matter from criminal incident to political football at light speed.

In my view, the media’s round-the-clock promotion of this weird “see what you did” blame game – and continuing insinuation that the hostile rhetoric of “the left” or “the right” has provoked an atmosphere where political violence is a foregone conclusion – is patently wrong and serves no constructive purpose.

In fact, it undermines our democratic values and traditions more effectively than the one-off act of some sick bastard living out of a van.

Everyone understands that violence and terroristic threats are counter to the collective and enduring character of our nation – and they must never become an accepted part of the national exercise of our differences.

And the madness we witnessed this week should never be allowed to have a chilling effect on the spirited and robust debate of the myriad issues faced by an American citizenry graced with the rights – and responsibilities – of free, open and unfettered speech.

My favorite singer/songwriter is the incomparable Ray Wylie Hubbard – the enormously talented Texas troubadour/philosopher/bard best known for penning the 70’s anthem, “Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother.”

In 2010, Ray released a superb album entitled:

“A. Enlightenment  B. Endarkenment (Hint: There is no C).” 

Say what you want – that’s a damn good title – and a pretty fair experiential lesson for life in post-millennial America.

As much as we like to think we live in the Land of the Free, the fact is, our daily lives and livelihoods are increasingly controlled by forces we can’t begin to understand – or compete with.

Allow me to lay some heavy ‘enlightenment’ on you:

We live in a world where it’s difficult to comprehend what’s happening at City Hall – let alone in Deland, Tallahassee and Washington – because big money has effectively taken We, The People out of the equation.

We’ve been written out of the contract.

Our Rich and Powerful – the descriptor used by the Daytona Beach News-Journal to identify those who manipulate and control our destiny through an artificially created economy built upon the carefully directed flow of public funds – know what’s good for us, and themselves.

They purchase politicians at election time like chattel and use them as a convenient means of controlling their environment.

We are simply a means to an end – a necessary nuisance whose presence is required in the voting booth – and whose tax dollars are necessary to grease the right wheels in a system that no longer bears any semblance to a representative democracy.

Our local ‘powers-that-be’ tell us what they want us to hear – as though we were addle-brained children.   They paint some weird Fata Morgana on our collective horizon – a superior mirage that can only be realized if we follow their twisted logic – a panacea hotel, boardwalk expansion, or acquiescing to millions in corporate giveaways to make way for the “next big thing.”

While our lawmakers in Tallahassee simply ignore us.

Anyone who still thinks government has their best interests at heart – or that politicians give a tinker’s damn about the will of the people they represent – need look no further than the Florida legislatures shocking foot dragging in developing reasonable regulations for medical marijuana.

During the regular 2017 legislative session, lawmakers got hung-up on intractable differences over capping the number of storefronts – and ultimately failed to agree on how many dispensaries the state should have before time ran out.

So much for the concept of a free, open and reasonably regulated marketplace, eh?

Fortunately, the legislature was forced into overtime to hammer out issues related to economic development (read: corporate welfare funding) and education allocations – which provided a last/best opportunity for lawmakers to formulate rules and regulations for the implementation of medical marijuana in Florida.

When Governor Slick Rick Scott perceived the two sides were close to a deal, he added the “pot bill” to the special session, and, finally, a compromise came together.

Regardless of your feelings on the medical marijuana issue – the fact that our elected officials in Tallahassee initially shirked their sworn duty and refused to conform to the will of the people, put the objections of the always tight-assed law enforcement lobby over the needs of their most vulnerable constituents, and allowed the petty money grubbing and bickering inherent to our legislative process to hamstring a constitutional amendment supported by 7 out of 10 Florida voters – should be a real eye-opener for everyone.

I happen to support medical marijuana in all its forms, because I believe it is the right and compassionate thing to do for seriously ill people.

Unfortunately, the Florida Police Chiefs Association and other state and national organizations representing law enforcement executives don’t agree with me – and there are millions of reasons (and dollars) why.

After all, the “War on Drugs” has been so wildly successful in Florida and elsewhere that we should keep doing the same thing over-and-over again while expecting different results.

Add to that the greed factor in Tallahassee – a historic problem that helped Florida become the epicenter of the opioid epidemic – and you get the idea that perhaps profit motives are taking precedence over sound public policy.  Again.

Remember?

In the first six months of 2010, Florida medical practitioners bought more Oxycodone pills (41.3 million) than all healthcare providers in every other state in the nation combined.

You might also remember that in 2009, during the height of Florida’s “OxyContin Express,” Slick Rick Scott was working overtime to – inexplicably – torpedo efforts to create a prescription drug database which would have helped curtail the proliferation of “pill mills” that illicitly supplied dangerous and highly addictive narcotic pain medication to the Southeastern United States and beyond.

Now – far be it from me to cast aspersions – but I find it interesting that Governor Scott accumulated much of his incredible personal fortune in 2002, after founding a chain of walk-in clinics in Florida called Solantic – which has been described as the “Starbucks of Healthcare.”

When you add the Governor’s earlier shenanigans at Columbia/HCA, which was fined $1.7 billion for Medicare fraud after Scott was forced to resign in 1997, and you get the idea Rick is relatively comfortable profiting from the dark side of the healthcare industry.

It is estimated that medical marijuana will be a billion-dollar industry in Florida in just three-years.

Do you think ensuring that the right people were perfectly situated may have played a role here?

Anyone else of the opinion that setting the economic playing field was more important to Florida legislators than fulfilling the therapeutic needs of their constituents?

In my view, if you’ve ever seen someone you care about struggling with the horrific effects of Lou Gehrig’s Disease, the devastation of chemotherapy, or the debilitating results of post-traumatic stress disorder, I’m sure you can appreciate the benefit of anything that can bring effective palliative relief.

And if you truly are suffering – I could care less how you ingest medicinal marijuana.

But compassion wasn’t a factor here.

In my view, this represents the ne plus ultra example of how those we elect to high office – at all levels of government – routinely ignore the will of the public they are sworn to serve – an arrogance of power that I find both ethically and morally contrary to our system of democratic governance.

Regardless of where you fall on the political spectrum, I think we can all agree that the greed, squabbling and back-handed swipes that have resulted in legislative gridlock in Tallahassee simply cannot continue.

Look, I have been openly appreciative of House Speaker Richard Corcoran’s efforts to clean up state government – but his willingness to enter “secret” budget negotiations with Slick Rick and the obstructionist Senate President Joe Negron – was, in my view, counter to his stated goal of transparency in government.

In fact, it stinks.

Then, before the recent special session, Corcoran and Negron couldn’t even agree on what they agreed upon during their clandestine parleys.

See what happens when politicians conduct public business outside the public’s view?

Interestingly, I think Congresswoman, and 2018 democratic gubernatorial candidate, Gwendolyn Graham summed it up best when she said, “They made a secret backroom deal, now they can’t even agree on the secret deal they made, and they’re costing taxpayers with a chaotic special session filled with dysfunction and devoid of any leadership.”

 Unfortunately, she’s right.

All we truly know at this point is our reptilian Governor got what he wanted in the end – millions of tax dollars to fund his pet corporate welfare conduits – Enterprise Florida and Visit Florida.

 (Yeah, I’m aware of the limitations that have been put on Enterprise Florida. Do you really think these provisions will hamper even one tax dollar from flowing into the right hands?  Hide and watch.)

The rest of us got a ham-handed, clear-as-mud plan to implement medical marijuana which will invariably face legal challenges from John “For the People” Morgan, and every other facet of this budding industry.

“For the People.”

Now there’s an enlightening concept our elected officials at all levels of government should reconsider.

When I was a kid, I was a mischievous little shit.  Always up to something.

That meant I caught the blame for everything – regardless of my actual guilt or innocence – and my angry accusers were usually right.

In fact, my father used to joke that he should give me a spanking before he left the house to save time when he got home.

My old man could be a tough disciplinarian – and his physical and verbal punishments for my various transgressions would be considered downright abusive by todays parenting standards.

While his discipline was never wanton or cruel, it was rigorous, and always designed to teach me that with personal freedom and responsibility comes accountability.

He was from another era – one that demanded exacting standards of conduct and a strong work ethic – and anything less was unacceptable.

But when my father knew I was in the right – or wrongfully accused – he fought like a rabid badger to support and defend me.  He was a former Marine Corps officer, and standing up for that which was right and just was important to him.

I like to think he passed that trait along to his son.

As a career law enforcement officer – I always instilled in those under my command that it was just as important to prove a person innocent – as it was to find the guilty party.

Besides, blanket accusations are disheartening and wrong – regardless of the circumstances.

Earlier this week, I saw some disturbing photographs circulating on social media that were apparently taken from the Main Street Pier during the recent Memorial Day weekend.  The pics showed a group of people socializing on the beach with trash of every description collecting around them at the high-water mark.  It was depressing.

For some reason, the sight of so much concentrated garbage littering the ‘World’s Most Famous Beach’ reminded me of a recent episode of Comedy Central’s “Tosh.O” – a nationally syndicated television program that is wildly popular with the “young adult” key demographic.

During the show, comedian Daniel Tosh introduced an on-line video of a road rage encounter which occurred somewhere in the Halifax area:

“Welcome to Daytona Beach – a city even Floridian’s think is too trashy.”

 “Where the worst of Jacksonville meets the worst of Orlando.”

 “A city still covered in piss and puke from 1980’s Spring Breakers.  I could go on, I grew up in the area. . .” 

 Wow.  Even tongue-in-cheek – that’s harsh.

As I understand it, the photos posted to Facebook depicted guests of an organized event held just south of the pier, and patrons and employees of Joe’s Crab Shack clearly observed the group littering and consuming alcohol along a section of beach near the pilings.

When those with a seagulls-eye view from the deck above became concerned about the crowd’s total disregard for the environment, they called them on it – with a bullhorn – and verbal swipes and middle-fingers were exchanged before Beach Safety officers were called to intervene.

That’s when the focus naturally turned from littering and disorderly behavior – to admonishing law enforcement for “not doing more.”

In my experience – write tickets for littering and they’re condemned as Nazi Sand Troopers with nothing better to do – issue warnings, or less than a contrived number of citations, and they’re slackers.

Am I wrong?

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  (Interestingly, no one lost their life – and there were no major incidents over the record setting weekend.)

Even County Chairman Ed Kelley got in a few cheap shots.

Thus began another scrimmage in Volusia’s Blame Game – a weird local pastime where everyone is held responsible except the guilty few.

When these photographs went viral, the Daytona Beach News-Journal took notice and the individuals seen trashing the beach were loosely reported as part of an unnamed “out-of-town event.”

Wait.  I missed something.

So, I read the article a second time – searching intently for the name of the event.

Nothing.

Rather than properly identify and focus on the specific “out-of-town” group responsible – the News-Journal reported that the concentrated debris field near the pier “offers only a snapshot” of every mile of the Volusia County coastline that weekend.

Bullshit.

Anyone who visits the beach with any regularity will confirm that – for the most part – visitor’s pick-up after themselves, use the trash receptacles provided, and tend to leave the strand much as they found it – especially in areas where on-beach parking allows visitors to be self-contained.

Are there exceptions?  Of course – especially on summer holidays when the place is packed.

But I can personally vouch that the beach doesn’t look like a fetid junkpile every weekend (that’s limited to the Boardwalk) – nor are visitors regularly moved to fighting words over instances of wholesale littering.

In my view, the unfortunate incident near the pier should be addressed for what it was – a group of people attending a privately sponsored event who acted irresponsibly in numbers too large to allow for effective police intervention.

So, why come down like everyone who enjoyed our beaches on Memorial Day weekend are all somehow equally responsible?

In Volusia County, nothing – and I mean nothing – happens on the sand without a paid permit.

Don’t believe me?

Ask the Ocean Deck – or any other established business on the beach about the height of the hurdles one must clear to host a planned event.  Given this onerous permitting process, surely County officials can identify the sponsors of the event depicted in those unsettling photographs?

That said, why haven’t those responsible for promoting, managing and profiting from this “out-of-town” event been held personally responsible?

Why?  Because in Volusia County it’s easier to label single issues as part of a “larger problem” – one seemingly impossible to manage given current resources.  As an example, “There’s room to do better, even as the problem seems to be getting worse,” said George Recktenwald, deputy county manager.

Respectfully, Mr. Recktenwald, in this instance you are not at fault.

(I realize that after working for the accountability-averse Jim Dinneen these many years your Pavlovian response to any problem is to immediately assume guilt and take personal responsibility – that’s honorable.  But honestly, George, this is clearly an isolated incident that deserves a targeted response.)

To lend credence to the “widespread problem” narrative, the News-Journal reached way back and reported that, “Two years ago, beach cleanup crews carted away 13 tons of garbage after the July 4 weekend, according to a News-Journal article. On a normal weekend during the summer, beachgoers dump between 10 and 12 tons. That’s about two full-grown elephants stacked atop each other.”

 (What a Great visual…)

The article also reported that during the Memorial Day Weekend, the county collected some 29.67 tons of trash “from the sand and surf in the days that followed — that’s about 12 tons more than what’s left behind on an average four-day weekend during the summer.”

 Obviously, the insinuation being that on any given weekend visitors “dump” and walk away from nearly 34,000 pounds of garbage on the shoreline – suggesting that what we saw in those awful Facebook photo’s is nothing new.

I’m not buying it.

How much of that 12-tons of trash represents properly disposed of refuse collected from receptacles provided by the county for that very purpose?

And who was the group responsible?

Ah, screw it.  The one’s who should be asking these questions, won’t – and I’ve become numb to it.

For what it’s worth, if you went to the beach last weekend and left nothing but footprints in the sand – thank you.

And to those valiant souls who stepped up and cleaned up – despite the taunts of the crowd – you are my personal heroes.

If you sponsored, promoted or attended a poorly managed event near the Main Street Pier and wantonly trashed our beautiful beach endangering precious sea life and shorebirds – then shame on you.

What you did was disgusting and wrong.

Unfortunately, affixing proper blame for this and other problems we face is not a high priority for our elected and appointed officials.

In what is becoming a universal characteristic of the physical, civic and societal decomposition of large parts of the Halifax area, the true violators – the slum lords, grifters, greedy developers, neglectful property owners, inept shovel-leaners passing as public officials, and those who openly loot public funds from redevelopment initiatives, etc. – those that give real credence to Daniel Tosh’s grim narrative – are never held personally accountable.

For anything.

Why do you think that is. . .

(Note:  After posting, I learned that the News-Journal discovered a date discrepancy between the photographs (which were taken on Saturday) and the “event” (which occurred on Sunday).  In turn, they erred on the side of caution and refrained from naming the sponsors.)

When my nephew was a toddler, he was a bright child but afflicted with an odd habit of covering his eyes with both hands whenever something frightened him.

Regardless of circumstance – be it perceived physical danger or a scary movie – the boy would calmly block it all out by firmly clasping his fingers over his face.

He didn’t have a normal fight-or-flight response.

It was some weird, atavistic self-protective instinct that said, “If I can’t see it, it can’t hurt me.”

Fortunately, he’s older now and has outgrown the peculiar practice.

I wish others would.

For many years, what passes for political leadership in Volusia County has suffered from a debilitating form of what psychiatrists call the “Pollyanna Syndrome” – a tendency for people in power to focus on pleasant items more accurately than unpleasant ones.

They take the worry out of serious problems – make them softer and rounder – by simply refusing to admit that they exist at all.

In doing so, politicians develop a subconscious bias for unchecked optimism that sooths their fragile egos through constant self-reinforcement and ostentatious displays – such as the gaudy “State of the County” address.

With repetition, it blunts their logical instincts to recognize difficult problems and seek solutions.

Trust me.  Messengers bearing bad news tend to have short life spans in most government organizations.  They are shunned like a Jonah – and if your views don’t comport with the “everything is beautiful, in its own way” groupthink – you’d better keep them to yourself.

It also helps when the local media stops pointing out our collective warts and blemishes.

Anyone looking for a crystal example of this most vexing local problem of our time need look no further than a telling letter to the editor in Sunday’s Daytona Beach News-Journal entitled, “Accentuate Positive in Daily News.”

The piece was submitted by a Mr. Morgan Gilreath of Deland, Florida.

Now, I don’t know for certain if the author is our former Volusia County Property Appraiser – but I suspect he is.

And I don’t come to that conclusion by name recognition alone.

It is because the idea of intentionally ignoring uncomfortable realities –  and deliberately trying to curtain off the malignant issues that are destroying our quality of life and systematically churning large segments of the Halifax area into a mosaic of dystopian badlands – is textbook Volusia County government.

In Mr. Gilreath’s view, “Appearances do matter.  So does the way our community is presented to people visiting or looking for a home.” 

 He went on to list several newsworthy headlines that appeared in the News-Journal’s “Local” section on June 1.

These reports include a mother who viciously scalded her child, a woman convicted of drowning a puppy admitting to a probation violation, and the leader of a Palm Coast street gang appealing his life sentence.

In other words – a small, but vivid, cross-sample of “real life” here on the Fun Coast.

According to Gilreath, “Gotta tell ya, these don’t describe where I live. We have great communities throughout Volusia County with lots of wonderful people involved in fun and life-enriching events day in and day out. I didn’t see much of that in the Local section June 1.” 

Hey, Morgan – wake up and smell the coffee.

Those stories, and hundreds like them, empirically describe where the rest of us live.

In my view, the idea of intentionally concealing the myriad issues that face us is the height of dishonesty – and self-deception.

And it disrespects our intelligence.

The fact is, many areas of Volusia County are quickly reaching rock bottom – and to simply ignore – or worse, purposely conceal by omission – the cancerous effects of blight, violent crime, homelessness, dilapidation and the resulting despair as a means of building a false narrative for potential visitors and home buyers borders on criminal fraud.

Despite the deeply ingrained instincts of certain current and former Volusia County politicians – ignorance of the problem is not the answer.

In my view, the very idea of encouraging the Daytona Beach News-Journal to only report on a make-believe world of “wonderful people engaged in fun and life-enriching events” as a means of creating a faux-appearance speaks volumes.

It is this same shameless mindset that drove local tourism officials to abandon any semblance of ethical boundaries when they openly encouraged some 10,000 members of Shriners International to descend on Daytona Beach for their 2017 Imperial Session next month – knowing full-well what the poor rubes will discover once they arrive.

Don’t take my word for it.

In an enlightening April 2017 piece by the News-Journal’s Elieen Zaffiro-Kean, our main gateway to Daytona’s infamous beachside – East International Speedway Boulevard – was aptly described as, “…an apocalyptic version of its former self.”

“Empty buildings held up by cracked bricks sit like ghosts along the busy thoroughfare between the Halifax River and Atlantic Ocean. Buildings with broken windows and missing roof shingles seamlessly blend in with the other beaten-down structures. Underground, fuel from old gas stations is seeping between properties.”

 Need more? I encourage everyone to pretend you’re a Shriner and take a stroll through the ruins of the Boardwalk – then make your own assessment of whether you would return to the “Daytona Beach Resort Area.”

My God.

Look, I’m not a marketing expert – but I do know the exponential impact of negative word-of-mouth from 10,000 victims of a bait-and-switch scheme on future tourism.  And, when the backlash hits, our various and redundant convention and visitors’ bureaus will ultimately have no one to blame but themselves.  (Our red-faced politicians will make certain of that.)

They say the first step in resolving a problem is admitting you have one – and the truth hurts.

But giving in to the feel-good strategy of ignoring the obvious in hopes it will go away is a slippery slope.

I realize that I can be chronically negative and hyper-critical – and I suspect things look different from the posh riverfront homes of the rich and powerful – or an idyllic West Volusia neighborhood.

But pretending our area is not suffering mightily – or attempting to camouflage the evils – is not conducive to positive change.

The blind optimism of Mr. Gilreath aside, the Halifax area continues to endure the catastrophic effects of concentrated poverty, widespread crime and victimization, a dearth of political leadership and vision, abject greed, corrosive neglect, and a crippling oligarchical system of governance that protects and enriches a few powerful barons while completely ignoring the needs of average citizens who are expected to pay the bills and remain silent.

I’m not making this up to hurt someone’s feelings.  Look around.

Mr. Gilreath believes that “…accentuating the positive helps lead those reading to positive thoughts and actions.”

Do we really solve these entrenched issues by resorting to the hollow vanity of painting ourselves in a positive light?

Really?

In my view, it is high-time that our elected and appointed officials at all levels of government awake to the sobering realization that we no longer have the luxury of ignoring this devastating cycle.

Now is the time for blunt honesty – and bold, decisive action.

We must face our demons head-on, with eyes wide open, and anything less represents the nadir of political cowardice and dooms us all to more of the same.

I believe we do ourselves a terrible disservice when we attempt to create a Utopian concept of life that simply does not exist, while ignoring the ugly realities we communally face.

They call it a dichotomy.  I think.

The word defines a stark division or contrast between two things that are opposed or entirely different.

The partition of a whole into sets, something split and completely dissimilar.

When you point out a dichotomy, you draw an unmistakable distinction between two things.

This vocabulary lesson begins our look at the two markedly different communities that comprise Daytona Beach.

I was reminded of this polarity while perusing the News-Journal on Sunday.

In Clayton Parks’ “Word on the Street” column, we were once again treated to a feel-good hype piece fanning the pandemonium surrounding pre-sale information requests for Latitude Margaritaville – the proposed 6,900 to 8,000-unit development by Canadian developer Minto Communities in affiliation with Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Holdings.

According to a Minto representative, some 70,000 Parrotheads have registered to receive marketing material on the highly-touted “active adult” escapist community – where, beginning in the “low $200’s” – you can claim your own slice of paradise in the palmettos and pine scrub west of I-95 and “…escape to an island-inspired life as you grow older, but not up.”

Everyone who is anyone in the Halifax area is absolutely giddy over Latitudes.

When our local Big Wheels aren’t taking personal credit for the project – they are breathlessly ballyhooing it as the renaissance – a virtual rebirth of the Daytona Beach Resort Area.

After all, when you factor in the new “Buc-ee’s” – advertised as a “destination” mega gas station/convenience store – 120 fuel pumps anchoring a gargantuan “travel convenience center,” a mysterious, yet-to-be-named “specialty grocer,” and a surfeit of restaurants and retail on the frontage road just east of our sparkly new Tanger Outlet – you get the idea that Daytona’s sandy Phoenix is on the rise.

According to Minto’s overexcited Senior Vice President Bill Bullock, “How could you not be ecstatic?  On both the east and west of the interstate you’ve got incredible things happening – and they’re all complementary uses – it’s putting Daytona back on the map!”

 Hell, yeah.  Ecstatic.

Then, I turned the page.

It was like listening to “Happy Days Are Here Again!” dissolve into that old Depression-era dirge, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”

In the Editorial section was an enlightening piece entitled, “End the Eyesore on the Boardwalk.”

As regular readers of these tedious screeds know, I recently took a short walkabout through the ruins of Daytona’s Boardwalk – and what I saw brought me to uncontrolled anger.

If you haven’t visited our core tourist draw in a while, please have a look and form your own conclusions:  https://barkersview.org/2017/05/13/under-the-boardwalk-down-by-the-sea/

In my view, the Boardwalk – a dystopian wasteland of rust and rot, populated by sleepwalking homeless, and anchored on both ends by down-at-the-heels penny arcades – represents the grim consequence of multi-layered political corruption, gross mismanagement of public funds and resources, and wanton neglect by greedy property owners who consistently put profits over progress.

How does the dilapidation that is the true face of Daytona Beach comport with Minto’s purpose-built, artificial paradise with “Palm trees swaying to an ocean breeze” and “Everyday feels like an escape” feel? 

It doesn’t.  It can’t.

Trust me, the people who stand to profit most wish that people like me would stop making the obvious comparison in public.

Blemishes are meant to be covered – not openly discussed – especially when they transmogrify into gruesome tumors.

As the big money moves west, so does the focus and attention of our movers-and-shakers – you know, the Chamber of Commerce set, our goofy elected officials and their friends in high places, like the CEO Business Alliance, etc.

Like victims of a contagious pandemic of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, our elected and appointed officials – and those who make their living grubbing from government coffers – will conveniently forget the fetid mess on what remains of the beachside as developers start churning ecologically sensitive land west of the Interstate into the “Next big thing.”

No one wants to be left behind.

To our ‘economic development’ types, the festering carcass of the beachside represents an old, ugly and intractable problem, an embarrassing shrine to human greed and government ineptitude – a turnip squeezed dry – a grotesque thing no longer worth the effort and expense of saving.

Conversely, Latitudes Margaritaville represents Progress.  Fun.  Opportunity.  Money.

Two sides of the same coin – abject blight and dilapidation contrasting with the excitement and promise of what will be.

The baggage of the past vs. the potential of future progress.

And there is an unmistakable sense of potential in the air.

A smart friend recently calculated the estimated impact fees generated by Minto’s 6,900 new home starts at more than $52-million.

And we’re going to need every red cent of it.

Given the fact that the Margaritaville development will ultimately represent an influx of some 14,000+ aging Parrotheads – that represents a serious impact on our existing roads, streets, water, sewer, health and public safety systems.

And that doesn’t include the future effects of proposed residential developments stretching along the spine of Volusia County from Farmton (a planned community with a maximum development potential of 23,100 “dwelling units”) to the Flagler County line.

However, governments penchant for giving impact fee “credits” and “caps” for influential projects and developers – while pushing tax increases for transportation infrastructure – reminds me that we should be closely monitoring how much of the burden Minto ultimately shoulders.

Why the paranoia, Mark?

Do you really think Minto Communities won’t pay its own way?

What’s wrong with you?  Get with it!  It’s time to welcome the new and shit on the old!

We were told we should be ecstatic! 

Why are you bringing us down, you party-pooping asshole?    

Because experience tells me that whenever our elected officials begin buying into the over-the-top flimflam and faux-hysteria generated by some high-paid corporate shill – anything is possible.

History tells us that these shallow minded, politically motivated hacks will grasp at anything presented as “progress” – regardless of how disconnected from the core issues it may be – or how it ultimately effects the lives and livelihoods of their long-suffering constituents.

Over the past 25-years, many traditional “downtown” areas in depressed communities around the country have made a comeback using the walkable urbanism concept, focusing on safe streetscapes with a complex mix of retail, specialty restaurants, housing, arts and entertainment.

Sadly, many distressed residential areas – such as Daytona’s beachside – haven’t fared as well.

Across the nation some cities have determined certain neighborhoods aren’t worth saving.

Timid redevelopment departments – often with the back-handed consent of elected officials – turn-tail and walk away from the incredibly time consuming and expensive proposition of reclaim, renovate, renew and revitalize in favor of simply starting fresh in another part of town.

Sound familiar?

As our friends at Minto construct a simulated “beach community” – something we had and lost – I hope those who care will continue fighting the false optimism and marketing slight-of-hand designed to divert attention and blunt our instincts.

Let’s demand that our elected and appointed officials at all levels of government stay focused on the hard work at hand – and remember the importance of reviving our core tourist area to the ultimate health and success of the region.

In late March 1968, United States Army Sergeant First Class George “Ron” Brown of Holly Hill, Florida, Sergeant Alan Boyer of Missoula, Montana, and Sergeant Greg Huston of Shelby County, Ohio, along with six indigenous personnel – collectively known as “Spike Team Asp” – conducted a top secret intelligence operation behind enemy lines approximately 12-miles northeast of Tchepone, Laos.

Assigned to the Military Assistance Command Vietnam/Studies and Observation Group (MACV/SOG) this team of elite Special Forces soldiers was tasked with setting wire-tapping equipment along the labyrinthine Ho Chi Minh trail system, the main north-south supply line for the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army.

The men had been covertly inserted into the area after launching from Nakon Phanom, Thailand aboard a CH-3 from the Air Force’s 20^th Helicopter Squadron call sign “Pony Express.”

At approximately 11:00am on the morning of March 28, the team reported that they were in contact with an enemy force and requested an immediate emergency extraction from the area.

A “Pony Express” helicopter arrived in the area a short time later and quickly located the team on the ground.  Due to thick canopy jungle and rough terrain the pilot was unable to land and a rope ladder was dropped from the open doorway of the aircraft to the men below.  Five of the six indigenous troops climbed the ladder and were safely taken into the helicopter.

As the sixth was going up, Sergeant Boyer was seen beginning his ascent at the bottom rung of the ladder.

Just as Boyer started climbing, one of the rope’s mounting brackets either broke free or was cut away by heavy enemy ground fire.  Personnel on the helicopter reported observing the indigenous soldier and Sgt. Boyer falling to the ground.

According to Sgt. Dave Mayberry, who served as the chase medic on the extraction helicopter, the Green Berets were still very much alive and heroically returning fire and defending their position.  When Sgt. Mayberry turned to treat one of the wounded he lost sight of the men on the ground.

Brown, Huston and Boyer were never seen again.

Numerous air assets were diverted to the area and a rescue team was assembled, but the mission was called off later that afternoon when there were no further communications from the men.

On April 1, 1968, Special Forces Sergeant Chuck Feller, along with several indigenous soldiers, launched on a mission to locate the lost men of Spike Team Asp.  After just six hours on the ground, Sgt. Feller and his team came into direct contact with the enemy and called for an emergency extraction.

Again, a rope ladder had to be dropped and one of the indigenous soldiers was forced to dangle from the rungs as the helicopter returned to the airbase in Thailand.

Sgt. Feller later reported that his search found no evidence of Spike Team Asp.

In January 2000, a team from the former Joint POW/MIA Accounting Office conducted extensive excavations of the Laotian countryside near where Spike Team Asp was last seen.

During the latter part of the war, the Ho Chi Minh trail was heavily bombed leaving the earth deeply cratered and much of the topography completely different than it had been in 1968, making search and recovery efforts extremely difficult.

However, the archaeological excavation uncovered several personal artifacts attributable to U.S. military personnel, to include a metal boot insert and several uniform buttons.

In addition, a single human tooth was recovered at the site.

The tooth was later linked to Ron Brown through dental x-rays at the Department of Defense Central Identification Laboratory in Hawaii.

In May 2003, Ron Brown’s daughter, Ronda Brown-Pitts, was notified by the Army that her father’s remains had been found in Laos.  Unfortunately, dental records provided to her showed that her father’s tooth had a filling – and the tooth recovered did not.

She demanded a DNA test but it was refused based on the Army’s policy of “body desecration.” A DNA test would have destroyed “all of the remains.”

In 2006, a casket containing the remains of Master Sergeant George “Ron” Brown was delivered to his daughter and later interred with full military honors in Dayton, Texas.

For many years I have worn a POW/MIA bracelet bearing Ron’s name.

When I was a young boy growing up during the Vietnam era, these bracelets were a fairly common sight but not so much anymore.  In the 1970’s many school children wore the bracelet as a means of ensuring that the POW/MIA issue remained a priority until they all came home.

I received mine after making a donation to a veteran’s support organization.

For those whose adopted POW didn’t come home, the bracelet holder became the guardian of a hero’s life story – the keeper of the eternal memory of one man’s sacrifice.

The silver band became both a personal memorial, and a public reminder, that there are some debts of gratitude that cannot be repaid.

This extremely small token of remembrance has allowed me the honor of learning about Ron’s military career and his incredible heroism.  It has given me the opportunity to speak with his friends and family, and to meet and correspond with some of the men he served with on Okinawa and in Vietnam.

He was a husband, a father, a former member of the U.S. Army Parachute Team “The Golden Knights,” and a professional soldier of incredible skill and dedication.

Even though Ron’s “remains” have been repatriated, I still wear his bracelet as a personal remembrance of one man’s sacrifice to the high cost of freedom.

And I always will.

Incredibly, the story of Spike Team Asp continues to unfold some 49-years later.

On March 7, 2016, one day before what would have been Sergeant Alan Boyer’s 70^th birthday, United States Army officials notified his sister in Leesburg, Florida, that a single bone fragment had been located by the Defense Department POW/MIA Accounting Office.

The bone shard was apparently purchased by a Laotian activist from Lao nationals described as “remains dealers,” and later positively identified through mitochondrial DNA analysis.

Sergeant Alan Boyer was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery on June 22, 2016.

Currently, there are 1,611 Americans who remain missing after the Vietnam War.  Overall, there are 82,547 missing personnel from past conflicts, including World War II, Korea and Iraq.

On this Memorial Day, and every day, let us remember the extraordinary service and heroic sacrifice of men like Ron Brown, Al Boyer and Greg Huston, and that of their families.

Never forgotten.