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This year marks the 50th anniversary of the so-called “War on Poverty” that President Lyndon B. Johnson declared when the official poverty rate was at 19 percent. Five decades later, the poverty rate stands at 15 percent with 46.5 million people living below the official poverty line, which is about $23,000 for a family of four (2012 Census Data). More than 20 million people earn less than half the poverty line, in other words, they live in extreme poverty in the richest country in the history of the world. The statistics are even more depressing when we consider that the child poverty rate (under age 18) is an alarming 21.8 percent. Even worse, for children under the age of 5, some states register poverty rates of up to 36 percent. The failure of the so-called “War on Poverty” to actually end poverty and the socio-economic problems associated with it is due to the fact that the program was systematically aimed at fighting the poor rather than poverty and its root causes. The late economist Hyman P. Minsky exposed these flawed strategies since the early days of the war on poverty in the mid-1960s.

It's May Day and I'm supposed to be inspiring. Revolution for the equilibrium. That was my goal when I started at this fine publication, and today would be the day to do it. May Day, the anarchist Super Bowl, a day home to more than a few massacres. The world's favorite day for militant demonstrations, though near as I can tell, the only march in Columbus today is about raising the minimum wage. “Give Ohio a Raise,” that is literally the rhetoric that Obeezy used in the State of the Union. The Democrats' game is it's a way to wrest control of the narrative leading up to the midterms away from the ACA, which is to say that after November, all this magical DCCC-lead concern for economic justice will magically vanish. Which almost illustrates my point for me: recently I've been feeling despondency in even engaging in politics, which is a counter-revolutionary impulse, especially when we in the seat of the global hegemon. America is one big gated community, with all attendant Trayvon Martins and George Zimmermans. What I think I'm trying to do with this modest column is fuck shit up at the HOA meeting.

Lashish the Greek is probably one of the friendliest, small, local restaurants I’ve had the pleasure to dine in. The owner, Mo, is one of the reasons I enjoy eating there, as well as the fact that the food is delicious, affordable, convenient and supports the local community/economy. Greek food is often a staple for the vegan, and it can also be ideal for those who have gluten allergies with the many bean and rice based dishes. Instead of the typical pita, Mo will serve lots of cucumbers for dipping in the hummus or baba ghanoush. It would be fan-freaking-tastic to see more restaurants introducing a local, abundant, succulent weed technically known as portulaca oleracea to their menus. Purslane (common name), is frequently served on menus in Greece, and more importantly, purslane has a robust, nutrient dense, including protein profile and powerful omega-fatty acid content for a plant we’ve foolishly deemed worthy of weed killer in this country.

I met with two of the organizers of GRRRL’s Rock Columbus Music & Creative Arts Camp Mickey Mocnik and Marlena Bowen last week to learn about this amazing opportunity for Central Ohio girls. Mocnik spoke on the values of the GRRRL’s Rock Camp, “Building confidence in girls and musical expression. Giving them a space to take creative risks. Fostering an environment where what we do is more important than how we look. Supporting each other. Working together. Instilling values that I don’t think we get growing up as girls.” Mocnik’s band Nervosas just toured America successfully and has received adulation from DIY mainstay publication Maximum Rock N Roll. Mocnik is the product of an Athen’s Rock Camp which wasn’t a GRRRL’s Rock camp but still an example of what happens when there are outlets for people to assert themselves available. GRRRL’s Rock Columbus Music & Creative Arts Camp will provide workshops, lessons, band forming, lunchtime concerts and rocking out for girls, and gender variant youth ages 12-18 at the Methodist Church located at 82 E. 16th Ave Columbus, Ohio.

I attended the initial Night Mode dance party at the Summit last December, and was elated at how packed it was, and the fact they were playing obscure music and people were still having a blast. The actual visual presentation from outsiders perspective might have looked uber-hipster. The last Night Mode on March 9th had retro palm trees and video screens playing lo-fi video collages. The guest deejay was Sofia Stone from Ultramajic Records. Everyone was stylishly dressed and basically looked really cool. But the feeling was super warm, inviting and off the cuff. It looked good but I felt no pretense. This is because the people who put on the quarterly event--DJ’s Noelsferatu, Ethan Eschelon, Dustin Knell, Conner Campassi , and Curator/Think Tank Shirtless Midnight aka Gilberto Covrraubias are really great dudes. There is another Night Mode, May 16th, at the Summit so I met up with the boys to find out why I enjoyed myself so much and why the room was stacked. Noel explained why the party had such a good feel to it, “It’s extremely organic. I think that’s a really important thing. All the stuff we do while mixing is organic.

I have three main claims to fame, such as they are: 1) Jeff Beck, the English superstar guitar player, once sought me out and hugged me on his tour bus after a local show because of a scathing Kenny G review I wrote many moons ago. He even read parts of it to me from his computer. Guess he really liked it. Then we talked shit about Eric Clapton. 2) Joan Jett once winked at me from the LC pavilion stage as she was performing. I was in the photo pit taking pics, wearin' my new groovy Puerto Rican race track hat. But she clearly winked at me. Me. Not my hat. Me. Well, maybe my hat. Ladies love a man in a sharp-dressed hat, to paraphrase ZZ Top. I felt all kinds of special all over. I winked back and then licked my eyebrows, my customary return of salutation, here and in Puerto Rico. And that was that. Never heard from her again. Sigh. 3) G. Love was in my record store the day of one of his shows at the Newport. We bonded over a sweet vintage double-LP John Lee Hooker album I'd brought in from my own collection which he bought. That night, again in the photo pit, he saw me and nodded affirmatively, clearly acknowledging my humble shutter-bugged presence. But no wink.