Friday, March 28, 2014

Cement Surfing

Ok, so I think I just invented a new word/phrase here.   When a homeless person goes to a friends house and sleeps on his couch, then goes to another friends house and sleeps on that couch, and this goes on for a while, it is called "couch surfing" (not to be confused with "sidewalk surfers" people on skateboards).    So it only seems right that sleeping outside on the sidewalk, or on some similar material, like asphalt, concrete, etc, it should  be referred to as "cement surfing".

There are many ways in which to do so effectively, but in very case it is imperative to have something between the cement and yourself.   The most commonly used material is cardboard.  It's free from dumpsters, it is light weight/portable, and easily disposable.   And it does the job satisfactorily.

It is interesting how sleeping on bare cement can be harmful and more uncomfortable than sleeping on any other type of material... the cold of it will creep into your bones and sap your strength.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Do Not Be A Pack Rat

It is so very tempting.  You go to some soup kitchen to eat.  While there some people drop off some items for the homeless.   You peruse the variety of things, mostly clothing items.   You see a nearly new pair of shoes.  They are your size.   You don't know when you'll find another pair in this good of condition that will fit.

The problem is, you already have two pairs of shoes - the one's you are wearing, and the other pair that is dangling off your back pack by its shoe strings.   In survival mode it's hard to make that decision.   The shoes have value, and they are free. As a person with little or no money, being able to accumulate material goods is a way of compensating.

For many homeless people the temptation is too great and in a short amount of time they amass more stuff than they know what to do with, their collection becomes a huge burden.  Having to keep up with shopping carts full of possessions is no way to be homeless.

It is best if you can limit your things to fit in just one medium sized backpack.  You will be able to get around town easier, you don't have to worry about things you've stashed around town.  And you won't be so obviously homeless to the people you meet.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Perfection Stifles

Perfection takes time... no ... wait.  Perfection isn't real, it only exists as a concept, something to strive for, as a means of improving oneself.   Those people who are never satisfied, always looking to improve things, we call them perfectionists.   But I think that's a misnomer.   A real perfectionist is a person so hung up on doing things perfectly each and every time, that he ends up not doing anything at all - because all his mind can see is imperfection.  He hesitates in doing most everything until he believes he can do it perfectly.  (Of course you know, I"m actually talking about myself here).    Another way that my family, my parents - even my brother, older by 3 years, instilled such negative thinking into my brain, is that, no matter what I did, regardless of how I did, they would not comment until the found some imperfection in it and would harp on it.  My mother was the worst at it, or should I say "best" at it.  But my father followed suit, and eventually, the rest of the extended family fell in line, thinking that this was just the way I needed to be treated.  (This is the main reason why I love the Cincinnati side of my family so much, they never saw this, never became a part of it, and, whenever I was able to visit with them, they treated me like a human being, like an equal.)

It started about the time I began school.  They immediately started comparing me to my brother.  And although I don't recall them ever saying, "why can't you be more like your brother," it was an underlying theme for them.

This treatment, this harping on the parts of things I didn't do well, and in the same vein, ignoring any real accomplishments I made, they instilled a fear in me.   A fear that, if I did not achieve perfection, then I would suffer all their negativity again.   And I was smart enough to know that perfection wasn't in me, so I eventually got to a point where I just stopped trying to do things.  It was a means of survival for me, a method of avoiding the pain of their inevitable condemnation, of the things i did, of me.

Instead of building me up, they constantly tore me down.  They treated me as worthless, and for this I believed myself worthless.  To a large extent, I still do.

What You Say Matters

It really does. Regardless of who you are talking to, the words you use, the manner in which you use them, and the intent behind them, all have an effect on the people receiving those words.   Any denial of this fact is a denial of one's own humanity.

For the first part of my life, nearly every word spoken to me was negative, even if what was said wasn't about me, although most of it was.   Those mean, hateful, negative words, most of which came out of the mouths of my immediate family, still echo in my head today.   Any time I consider making any decision, I have to fight through the cloud of negativity that lingers in my head, before I can make it a reality.  Even as an adult, I always hesitate before moving forward, and often times I talk myself out of doing things, using those negative words, negative ideas, that were instilled in me so long ago.

It's funny, even when my parents were motivated to say something positive to me, they couldn't help but tag something negative to the end of it - backhanded compliments, if you will.

    "Oh, nice job getting an A on that school assignment.  Why can't you do that more often"?  or "... sure, but that's an easy class."  etc.

These words are still with me today, and have become an obstacle to living a fuller life.

Remember this, and don't make the same mistake with the people in your life.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Quoting Iain De Jong

This guy really tells it like it is, and he can prove what he says.  He really is a genius; no wonder we agree on so many things.  Still, he says it much better than I can.   Although I have blogged on this subject before, I want you to read Iain's own words.   Then you need to start visiting his blog on a regular basis, you'll become smarter for it, I'm sure. You will find Iain's blog at

Ultracrepidarianism and Fauxpinions 
The first is a real word. The second one is made up. They are both related.

The first is to have opinions outside of one’s area of expertise or knowledge.

The second is to present opinions as facts when the opinion is not based upon fact.

In the world of social change, both hamper and thwart efforts to be effective.

Consider that most public policy is crafted and approved by legislators that do not have subject matter expertise regarding the matter that they are enshrining into law, funding, rights, etc. But they do have opinions. Regardless of what the public service may have put before them by way of data, research, experience of other jurisdictions, framing of pros and cons, financial impacts, etc., it is always the prerogative in a democracy for elected officials to deviate from the advice they are given and craft an approach based upon opinions alone.

This is the wretched, recurring uhtceare moment for the skeptical empiricist that would rather see evidence drive us to discussion and deliberation rather than opinion. Examples: mandatory minimums do not deter crime, but we seem to have an opinion that they do so and legislators create more reasons and longer sentences; sobriety is not a precondition for success in housing, but we seem to still fund and support a litany of recovery services that masquerade as homeless services and reinforce a false notion that people can only remain housed if they are sober; countries that have a long history of same-sex marriages and unions have not seen a deterioration of their moral fabric or destruction of opposite-sex marriages and unions, yet there remain some circles that fear-monger and suggest that such a thing will occur.

While we can see the snollygoster making such opinions possible in the realm of policy – and the populace is mumbudget – perhaps it is worse when fauxpinion takes fervent root. Another way of looking at the fauxpinion – the repeat of a lie enough times that people come to accept it as truth.

The master of the fauxpinion exists in just about every community. I find they are often long-term disciples within the service they work. They are held with reverence or placated rather than challenged. They hold power because they have woven their fauxpinions into some semblance of truth that has actually formed the foundation of the approach to addressing the social issue. Examples: the provision of survival supports like sleeping bags and food as a necessary ingredient to get people off the streets; addressing economic poverty is the only true way to combat housing instability; chronically homeless people (or a large subset thereof) prefers to be homeless than housed.

We need to shine a light on data in meaningful ways to get it into the discussion of public policy and social change. We need to present it with certainty and in terms that lay people can understand and use immediately. And we need to be assured because we can prove it that decisions based upon sound data and research is better than approaches founded solely on opinions that are beyond the subject matter expertise of the decision-maker, or based solely upon false facts that have tried to translate opinions into sounding like facts.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Tick Tock Tick Tock...

The clock is counting.   I have 10 days, maybe, before I am exited from the "tent".   Can I find an apartment of some kind before then?   Most people in my situation have regular Social Security and SSI (a supplemental payment for disability), but I only get the SSI since I did not pay enough into Social Security.   I had never been employed long enough to qualify.   SSI is the smaller of the two amounts, and really isn't enough to live on.   It seems like every city has jacked up their economies just enough to make living on SSI just out of reach.    I have already had Section 8, so I don't think I would qualify for it again, and I don't really like having to wear that leash.  SSI is bad enough with the government monitoring your every move and all your income.

With getting an apartment comes the "application".  Here they are charging 30 to 40 bucks per.   If I apply to 10 housing units it will cost from 300 to 400 dollars.   And with my housing record, well, I just don't look so good on paper.   But even if I did get a place, it would be just a room, no kitchen, a shared bathroom down the hall, etc.   The barest of essentials.  And it would take nearly all my income to pay for it.   Yeah, San Diego is an expensive place to live, but they also give more in SSI here to compensate.  No matter where I go, it's going to be difficult to get by, financially.     If you are in financial straits and go to the government for help, the government will require that you stay poor.  As soon as you start to improve your financial situation, they'll start reducing your benefits.   Which is so ridiculous.   If the government wants you off the dole, the best thing would be to reward folks for moving towards financial independence.

Anyway, I will be putting in some applications for apartments this next week.   If this doesn't pan out, I'll be back to cement surfing soon enough.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Reminiscing Is Painful

Don't get me wrong.  I love San Diego.  I am so glad I am back.   The weather, the land, the city, is all very beautiful.   But, the memories are awful.    Oh, sure, there were some few bright spots in my life - nothing is ever 100% bad or 100% good.   Still, I can't think on my life growing up in San Diego without remembering the bad things that happened, and the overall dread and despair I felt constantly.    These sad memories have been with me all my life, yet occasionally I'd remember another thing that I'd repressed, and I'd add that to the list.   Sometimes it would be an old memory brought back stronger or with more detail that I'd forgotten.   A lot of that is happening now that I'm back in San Diego.  Each memory has to be dealt with as if dealing with it for the first time.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Kansas Wisdom

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,
I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man,
Well, it surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune,
But I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more no!

Carry on,
You will always remember
Carry on,
Nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry,
Don't you cry no more.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Phases Of Homelessness

From time to time I attempt to define, or at least describe, the causes of my homelessness.   This is something I've been doing for several years - hopefully I'm getting better at it - becoming more accurate.   I wouldn't be surprised if their is some contradictions between my earlier and later writings.   It's a sign of growth, hopefully.

I will now attempt to list and describe the different living situations I experienced, and what caused them to fall apart, resulting in homelessness.
- -
Raised by my parents, I lived with them until near the age of 21.   I had no plans or prospects of moving out of my parents house, but I was informed by my father that he expected me to be moved out of the house by the time I turned 21.  Although my parents were aware of my mental health issues, (running away from home, attempts at suicide, etc) my father believed that "kicking out of the nest" would solve things.  Shortly before that deadline, I had taken a minimum wage security guard job, and moved into my own apartment.  About 2 months later I was homeless.

The job I had taken was on the graveyard shift - watching over an empty parking lot from 11pm to 7:30am.  Adjusting to a night schedule proved difficult.  I went days without sleep.  On other days, when I might have gotten some sleep, my neighbors below me would get into shouting matches lasting for hours.  That too would prevent me from getting sleep.

Because I made so little money, I have to live in one of the poorest sections of town, which just happened to be some 20 miles away from where I worked.   Nightly commutes to work were scary as I'd often fall asleep behind the wheel, driving on the highway.  The lack of sleep and type of work I was doing took it's toll - depression set in.   Being socially isolated because of my Asperger's, my immediate family, became the extent of my "friends", but with having to move out of the house, I no longer had them to socialize with.  I was completely alone.  My life wasn't much different than being in solitary confinement in jail.  I fell into depression and despair.   Not long after, at the end of my work shift, my supervisor berated me for not being in proper security guard uniform. It was winter, and cold, and I was wearing a knit cap to stay warm, which was not approved.   So, I left my security guard gear at the job site, with a note saying I quit.   I drove home, slept for a couple hours, loaded my car with the few valuables I owned, and drove east.  I had become homeless at that very moment, for the first time.  It was 1982.

I eventually landed in Nashville, spent some time living in my car, and eventually made my way to the Rescue Mission. After being homeless for several months in Nashville, I sold my car and used that money to return to San Diego, via Greyhound.  After a couple days with relatives I rented another apartment, again using proceeds from selling the car.    But,I could not find work, and my funds quickly ran out.   With no other options, I joined the Navy.    Years before this, I asked my father if he could get me on where he worked (he'd gotten my older brother a job there).  His response was, "I'll get you a job.  I'll take you down to the Navy recruiter."    With that idea in my head, and no other options available, I joined the Navy.

The Navy was my home for a couple years, still I was unable to successfully fulfill my obligation to the service - again for problems I was having socializing and the depression that followed.  I was given an early administrative discharge, "For the good of the Navy,"  and was again homeless.  My family would have nothing to do with me, at that time, and with Nashville being the only other place I was familiar with, I returned there to live.  Upon arrival in Nashville I moved directly into the Rescue Mission.

There, I learned from another homeless person how to apply for financial aid for college.   I received the aid and was accepted to Belmont College.  After one semester I moved onto campus where I lived for nearly two years.   Again, I fell into what I began calling "moments of great despair".  My grades dropped, I lost my financial aid, and eventually was dismissed from the school.  And with no where else to go, I was again homeless.

My relationship with my parents had improved some during this time, they were impressed with my efforts to get a degree.  They let me move back home, with the understanding that I get a job and get back out on my own as soon as possible.  Though my father expressed disappointment at my choice, I took a job in a camera store.  I had worked there until the end of the holiday shopping.  In January I returned to Nashville with the idea of getting back into the school.  I did not plan things well and I returned too late to register for the semester.    I had some money saved up from the camera store job, and used that to move into a multiroom house with several roommates. Not long after that, I took a job as a car valet.

Some of my room mates failed to come up with their share of the rent, which I helped to cover - and they never repaid.  Then one month, one of our room mates collected rent from everyone, told us he was paying the rent, but instead pocketed all the money.  When we asked for our money back, he said he had already spent it.  We were evicted.  The others had options, or family to move back with.  But I was again homeless.  I returned to the rescue mission.

A few months later I met a young lady, a local who would eventually become my exwife.    She had no experience with homelessness, but didn't seem to mind that I did - except that she didn't want her family to know.   After a few months heavy courtship, I devised a plan.  I would return to San Diego, move back in with my parents, and  get my job back at the camera store.  There I could save up enough money to eventually return to Nashville, cash flush, and move right into an apartment.   The plan worked.  I was back in Nashville after Christmas. While I was gone, my girlfriend had scouted out an apartment for us.

Our relationship had some problems but we eventually married.  We had a couple kids, bought a house. We were married approximately 6 years.  Then we divorced.   Though I was not aware of it, or perhaps in denial of it, my Asperger's had caused too many problems with our relationship - for not knowing the cause of my problems there was nothing we could do to fix things.  During the process of the divorce, I attempted to keep my own place, but that failed.  For a period after our divorce, I moved back into the house, but that eventually caused problems as well, as my ex was wanting to move on and date other people.

After the divorce my depression and despair had no bounds - I'd never felt so bad, emotionally, in my life.  Then my ex took steps to prevent me from seeing my kids as well.  The pain was unreal and took years to overcome.  I was no longer motivated to attempt getting out of homelessness - instead of experiencing homelessness for months at a time, now it was happening years at a time.

Years passed as I lived in shelters in Nashville.   Then I found out about a church that was to open a halfway house for the homeless, and I was first they invited to live there.   The only requirement was that I had to find a job.   Within a week I was employed.   I lived in that halfway house for a year.  After a year on the job I was promoted and given a raise - I then moved into my own apartment.   About 3 months my apartment building was gutted by fire.   I returned to the halfway house for a couple months until I could save up and move into another apartment building.  I continued to be employed and I lived in that apartment building for over a year.   I was even able to visit with my children for a short period.  But then I was let go from my job - the store was going out of business.  Losing the job was depressing, but even more so, my exwife stopped bringing my kids around for visits.  Again, depression set in - I was unable to find another job and was evicted from the apartment.  Back to being homeless.

Again, years passed.  I was exhausted, was having a hard time just keeping the pace of living in shelters.  I'd lost motivation to try.   This had become apparent to a shelter volunteer i'd known for a few years.    She got involved in an attempt to find me a place to live through the city's newly formed housing development program for homeless people.  She took me to appointments to get the paperwork filed.   Then we waited, and waited.  It was taking much longer than was expected, in getting me approved for the program.   So she went to the office of a Tennessee senator to look into the delay.   A short time later I was accepted.  (As a side note - if you are having problems with government or legal issues of any kind, try your senator - just the mention of their name can often get amazing things done.)   It was a full year from the time I filed the paper work until I was accepted into the program.  I was assigned to a team of very qualified, very professional case managers who really took care of me.   Still, it was another 4 months before a unit was made available to me, and I moved in.   I then had a place of my own.

An apartment.  Tiny, it totaled less than 200 sq feet - it was equipped with a full bathroom (shower, no tub) and a kitchen - stove, sink, refrigerator/freezer.   Case managers and a few people I knew helped me to stock it with necessities.   I lived there for several years.  Then, without warning, I was removed from the case management program.   They had assessed, without talking to me, that I no longer needed the case managers.   I admit that I didn't need them much, but I did need them still.  The official word was that I was being "transitioned" into another case management service - but that turned into no case management at all.

Instead, the process had begun to have me declared disabled (for my depression and anxiety issues) so that I could receive SSI benefits.  Still, I no longer had a case manager, and as per usual, my life (what little there was of a life) fell apart, depression and anxiety over burdened me again.  As much as a help the SSI benefits are, being declared disabled due to mental health issues can really mess with your sense of well being.  I hated the place I was staying, it was more depressing than living in a shelter - it was a small building (just 16 units) where other defective people lived and sometimes died.  After 5 years of living in that place, I did not recertify for my section 8.  Losing the section 8 mean that  my rent payment would jump from 50 dollars a month to 500 dollars a month.  I could not afford that much rent with my SSI.  At that point I knew I would have to go back to the streets, and it dawned on me that I didn't have to stay in Nashville.  I could go anywhere.    San Diego, my home town, had been on my mind a lot lately, so I left Nashville for San Diego.   After a couple weeks of living on sidewalks in San Diego, I was able to get into a "shelter" people call "the tent".  The quotation marks are to emphasis that this really isn't much of a shelter - it's as bare minimum as you can get.   About the only difference between the sidewalk and the tent is that, in the tent the cops don't harass you.   The "tent" doesn't even have a floor, just the asphalt of a parking lot.  I have now been in the tent for 6 months.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

If We Can't Solve Homelessness

In every civilization that grows beyond a certain point, there develops a group of people who are unable, for whatever reason, to conform to the demands of the society.   Those people end up being marginalized, cast out, banished, what have you.   Until recently, those people still had some place to go, to live a life of their own, though on their own.   Just 100 years ago, or less, if a person needed to, they could venture out into the wilderness, ride a horse into a forest, etc., cut down a couple trees, build a log cabin, call it his own, and call it home - and no one would question it, no one would bother him.

But in today's overpopulated world there is no place to go to, away from civilization.  Every plot of land, everywhere you go, is owned by someone else.  They have divided the land into parcels and have fenced off all the borders.   For those people  who just don't "fit in", there is no place for them to go - no place to get away from civilization.  So now, instead of having the option of being a "Jeremiah Johnson" and riding off into the sunset, these people have to cower in the shadows of the city, being kicked from one alley to another, without the ability to settle anywhere, and live a somewhat normal life.

As civilization progresses, this is the problem that must be dealt with, or that progress will stop, otherwise all the good citizens will stop "progression" and we will all return to more barbaric dark ages.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

6 Months Homeless In San Diego

There were several reasons that contributed to my leaving Nashville and returning to San Diego.  Some were about my situation, but more important reasons had to do with wanting to be back home.   And there wasn't any reason for me to stay in Nashville.  In returning to San Diego I understood that I would also have to return to the streets.  But, oddly enough the thought of returning to the streets was more a motivator than a deterrent.   Getting back to experiencing homelessness and blogging about it seemed like (and still is) a good idea.  Of course no one would understand this, though some people have been asking "when you getting off the streets?"   And that has kind of complicated things.  Let me see if I can explain.

No two ways about it, homelessness is an ugly and undesirable way to live, no one in their right mind would ever choose this life for themselves. (although they often don't mind choosing it for someone else.)   My life is a comedy of errors, it's slapstick pratfalls in high places.   You know how someone falls in an epic was, but gets up, dusts himself off and says, "I meant to do that"?   Well, that's like me with homelessness.   Sometimes I become homeless and tell people I did it on purpose - it's a way of taking the heat off me, and  making it not hurt so bad.  But the truth is, homelessness for me is an inevitability.  That is, if I'm left to my own devices.  My devices are defective, and as has been proven time and again, the only way I ever get off the streets is when someone else comes along and lifts me up off the streets and provides the things I need to stay housed.   Yep, I am quite aware of the fact that society seriously frowns on such people - I guess that's why so many homeless people deny that reality about themselves - it's better to deny this ugly truth than to be subject to the scorn and rejection that comes from disappointing the world.

Still, I am not without hope, and not without some abilities.  So, I will do what I can, knowing full well that it will never be enough to create a "normal" life for myself - in a society that does not see homelessness as "normal."   One of the things that I can do, and do well, is to blog about homelessness, and I will continue to blog about my experiences and the ideas I have about homelessness - and if I am able, I'll make some video content as well, for the internet.

For most of the past 6 months (after a brief period of sleeping on sidewalks) I have been living in a shelter. But my time at that shelter is drawing to an end, perhaps by the end of this month.    Then I will be back to sleeping on sidewalks and wherever I can find a place to catch some Zs.   This is pretty much what I'd planned on doing anyway, once I got here to San Diego.  It was good to have a period of adjustment, of staying in the shelter, while I became accustomed to homeless life in San Diego - and learned my way around the city.

Still, if anyone feels so moved as to offer me a place to live off the streets, I will seriously consider it.  "Will work for modest accommodations."

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Should You Be Afraid Of Homeless People

The short answer to the question, "Should you be afraid of homeless people?" is "No."  There is absolutely no proof whatsoever that homeless people are any more dangerous than any other group or kind of people.

Certainly some homeless people are unhappy with their life circumstance and will express their anger with anti-social behavior. Sometimes, interactions with homeless people are not pleasant.  But as far as homeless people actually being dangerous or harmful to others, well, they are no different than any other people.   Anyone who says anything to the contrary isn't being honest.

Prejudices, fear mongering, generalizations, etc., are constants in society, and we must be diligent to make ourselves aware of them, and combat them with truth, whenever they arise.  Media is responsible for most of these problems, as they are motivated by money to exaggerate and distort the truth.  Outrageous stories, and controversy,drives readership, and readership is how media makes money.   Sadly, these problems with media have so saturated society that many people take them as natural and believe them to have a purpose in their lives.   They hear a fear mongerer's story, and think they are doing a good service by repeating and spreading that story.

Watch closely the next time the local news reports on a crime story involving a homeless person.  Listen to how much the media focuses on a criminal being homeless.  It's usually the lead of their story.   You never hear a news reporter say, "Man With Home Commits Crime"   A head line like that is meaningless.  By the way media reports on crime, one would think they want everyone believing they are about to be victims of crime.   The truth is, the majority of people will never be victims of a serious crime, ever, homeless or not.  Sure, crime does happen, but it is no cause to spend one's life cowering at home, afraid to go outside, afraid to meet people, and enjoy life.

But, I digress a little.

I just did a google news search of the key words "homeless attack". Of the first ten links, 2 were articles about a homeless person attacking someone - the other 8 were of people attacking the homeless.   If anything, we can deduce that it is much more dangerous to be homeless than to be a person who engages the homeless.

Still, all of this would be a moot point if we just start working to end homelessness instead of only tending to the temporary and superficial needs of the homeless.   There is a great deal of data now available that proves  ending homelessness, (by putting homeless people directly into their own homes, small apartments/efficiencies/SROs etc) is much more cost effective, than trying to address homeless people's daily needs.

The experts in the field of homelessness suggest that instead of supporting a homeless shelter that people  instead work directly on housing the homeless.   Have you seen the work done by "How's Nashville"?  This is the future of homeless advocacy - bringing homelessness to an end - it is actually a do-able thing.   So, the question of whether or not homeless people are dangerous won't be asked anymore, and instead each person will be judged on his own character.