Trolling in Culver City

This is one of the underpasses along the Ballona Creek Bike Path. 

It's a path I've been riding along for the past 35 years. And a great way to get from my humble abode in Culver City to the ocean without having to navigate traffic and careless drivers who are texting their spouse what they'd like for dinner or applying makeup via their rearview mirrors.

Last week the local FB page reported that due to the underpass overcrowding and post apocalyptic conditions, the homeless people or if I want to be politically correct, those suffering from homelessness, had been moved out of their rent-free quarters.

I, for one, couldn't be happier. 

The situation had become untenable (see pic above). And every time Ms. Muse and I would ride under one of our scenic underpasses there was always the danger that we'd be confronted by people suffering a mental condition, or addled by drugs, or worse, both, and in serious want of an expensive bicycle which could be sold on the black market.

Indeed I left a comment to that effect on the FB page and was quickly taken to task by a young lady who said these unfortunate people had more to fear from people like me than the other way around. 

Really? 

I asked, if this were a gut feeling on her part. Or if it was backed by any real evidence? Moments later, she had sent me a link from a The Streetwise News, a newspaper published with the express purpose of helping/promoting the needs of homeless people....sorry, people suffering from homelessness.

In the article, 51% of males felt threatened by housed people, while 57% of females felt threatened by housed people. This is what passes for journalism these days. 

Feelings.

It didn't take long for this young lady to then read me the Riot Act about being some cold-hearted, selfish Boomer who doesn't understand homelessness or the difficulties of the working poor. She then went on to boast about her superior first hand experience as a former homeless person who struggled and continues to struggle with making the week's paycheck outlast an empty pantry.

None of her ignorant projections about me are true. 

I didn't bother to tell her the many times in my life that I had the work two menial low paying jobs just to put another plate of poorly made mac & cheese in front of my face. Or the time I had experienced my own homelessness on my first sojourn to Los Angeles and resorted to sleeping on the roof of a building until I could find and afford housing. Nor did I explain my first hand understanding of dealing with the state of New Jersey to get my uncle into a state-assisted living for mentally handicapped. 

By the time she started slinging unmerited Boomer invectives my way I knew the argument was over. 

I don't know what the solution is. 

Maybe with more people working from home, those vacant office buildings can be converted into housing. Maybe we can build low cost homes the way the Chinese put up hospitals in 10 days. Maybe the billionaires of this country who are allegedly our best and brightest, can put their heads together and come up with a solution.

All I know is, I'm glad to have the bike path back.

At least for now.