An article in the Los Angeles Times this morning (Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone!) highlights the terrible difficulties people are facing in today's rough and tumble economy. It seems that a beleaguered family in the slums of Malibu, California, is beset by the stench of Bob Dylan's portable toilet. It's so bad, they say, that they have trouble sleeping at night, and have installed large fans in their yard to try to blow the offending odor away. Alas, poor souls.
No, I am not making this up.
And to make matters worse, it turns out that Mr. Dylan (you remember him, don't you? That radical guy who sang about justice and all that?) has had relationship issues in the past. When he was building a guard shack on his property it didn't meet code for accessibility, and so he promised he wouldn't hire "any handicapped people" to work there.
That's right, while the world is in a tailspin and the most vulnerable and marginalized among us are being pushed even closer to the brink of disaster (or over the edge!), these filthy rich folk are bickering over fumes and promising not to hire people with disabilities? My heart is overflowing! Perhaps we should take a collection...
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