Chalk Up Another Notch For Sulfuric Acid

In the most horrific story I read all week, a man was discovered (by his father, no less) drowned in a vat of a sulfuric acid solution with roughly the same level of acidity as stomach acid.

Here are the relevant bits of the story, the ones which leave many questions unanswered and demonstrate the total failure of mainstream journalism to actually investigate and not just report.

An 18-year-old man found dead in a vat of acidic solution at the Redwood City factory where he worked died of accidental drowning, the San Mateo County coroner said today.
Fernando Jimenez Gonzalez drowned in a vat of a "low-concentration sulfuric acid solution," Deputy Coroner Michelle Rippy said. Toxicology tests showed no drugs or alcohol in his system.

So we have a young man who works in this facility who fails to come home from work. His dad goes out to find him and eventually checks the workplace, as they both work there. He finds his son drowned and probably beginning to digest inside a vat. How did he get there, one wonders? He could have stumbled in, but why wouldn't he just climb back out? Or tread acid?

The solution in which Gonzalez drowned was 93 percent water and 7 percent sulfuric acid, according to the coroner's office. Its acidity was roughly the same as stomach acid. The solution is used during the production of circuit boards.

Police suspect Gonzalez fell into the waist-high vat of sulfuric acid after being overcome by chemical fumes. A spokesman for the company said the solution does not produce noxious fumes.

So the police suspect that the victim was overcome by fumes that don't exist, causing him to fall into the vat. Way to go, cops. I hear they have their top imaginary friends investigating the case, and plans are underway to utilize all best intentions available to the Department.


"Hey, whiny punk-ass," you might be tempted to ask, "if you're going to bitch about public servants who put their lives on the line to protect you while you sleep, why don't YOU investigate this? If you've somehow deemed it worthy of taxpayer's money and police time, then why not check it out yourself? Look into Gonzales's past, talk to the father, find out who works at and runs Coastal Circuits, talk to Gonzales's friends, and see if anyone could have been in the area around the time of the drowning?"

Because I have studying to do, that's why. T'ain't my problem. My name's Paul and this is betwixt y'all. Besides, the San Mateo County Coroner already ruled that poor Fernando died of accidental causes. And I'm sorry, but Fuck You, The Chronicle - your article was almost identical to the original coverage of the story. At least the Mercury-News included new information. All you did was tag on the coroner bit.

Whenever I encounter bad reporting I consider myself lucky to be able to recognize it. I am immensely grateful for the time I spent at the OC Weekly working with the finest reporter I've ever met - R. Scott Moxley. The man taught me to look past the headlines and home in on everything the newspapers neglect to tell you.

I emailed Scott the story along with cheeky commentary. Scott emailed back, "Mob?" I said no; more likely it's elderly cannibals. You know, people who need their meat a bit pre-digested.

Easier to gum down, easier to pass out.

Now to my legal studies. This should be interesting - CHAPTER 4: The Determination of Unreasonableness. My life may never be the same.

Rest in Peace, Fernando

Negligence

Two Gallants

So I have yet to post to the blog in many hours. It didn't want to do pictures. Stupid Picasa.

I am sorry.

Got the new Two Gallants album - eponymous, nicely - in the mail the other day. It's got some real gems on it, naturally. Recorded in the Tenderloin of all places.

I think law school is going to be okay. Everything in moderation, including both studiousness and negligence. I can't study all the time. At a certain point I have to acknowledge that I'm doing more than enough studying, take some time off, relax, spend time with my friends, watch a DVD, walk through the park, bang on my djembe, whatever.

I don't wanna work;
I just wanna bang on my drum all day

Does anyone else have a particular song lyric that sums up how they are feeling at this moment?

Open Letter To The Street

RE: STREET FOLK, BEAT FOLK, WHORES, THE POOR, PIMPS, GIMPS, SMACKHEADS, CRACKHEADS, DEALERS, STEALERS, MUSICIANS, MAGICIANS AND OTHER ILL TYPES

To whom (or what) it may concern:

I, Alex B-Z, apologize. I'm sorry. I'm really damn sorry and I wish to extend that apology to each and every one of you I've passed in the street without dropping so much as a coin in your cup or green paper into your gaping palm.

Look, I'm a law student. Or at least now I am. Tuition is expensive. Rent is expensive. Food is expensive. Even my monthly MUNI pass is expensive. I know, sometimes I accidentally sleep in and have to take a taxi when I could just as easily have ridden the train, or even walked if I'd gotten up early enough. Does that mean I've selfishly wasted that money? Sometimes it feels that way.

My medicine is expensive. Bills are expensive. I suppose I could cancel the internet and do all my networking from local coffeeshops and school, but then all the people in my building would lose their internet as well. Maybe some of them donate some of the money they save to you. It's possible.

Also, there's a god-awful lot of you. I mean, if I dropped coin on everyone in need on Mission Street alone, just between 25th St. and 15th St., I'd have to take on two jobs and rob people in my spare time. No shit. Poverty seems to be a growth industry.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to ramble. I should get to the point, which is this: I can't afford to give all of you money, and I can't justify paying some of you without paying all of you. It just wouldn't be fair. So here's what I'll do - I'll start making regular donations to local shelters, soup kitchens, gratis medical providers and the like. All you have to do is spend some time at those places, and you can feel the full force of my generosity. Of my love.

Trust me, I know it's an attractive lifestyle. I once stood on the side of the I-5 holding up a sign soliciting funds. I made nine bucks, too - in 45 minutes. That's like $12 an hour, man. Not bad at all. But what if, instead of pumping cash into people on the street, the generous were instead funding places such as the aforementioned? Soup kitchens could become steak kitchens. Shelters would actually provide shelter. Just a thought.

Don't mean to digress, I just thought I'd at least offer some kind of constructive comment. You know, since I'm not offering any change. And I won't be. And this is why. Thank you for your time. Be well.

NEXT TIME, ON "ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT"
Alex realizes that very few beggars are regular surfers of the internet. None of them read his blog. But one of them has a more popular blog.

So La Ti Do

I don't know enough about music to make much significance of the title of this post. It just sounds like "So lah-dee-dah" - not in the Van Morrison brown-eyed-girl kinda way but more like the Scarlett O'Whorea "fiddle-dee-dee" kinda way. Fiddle dum fiddle dee. Yep, everyone can go fiddle themselves.

I am at an impasse. Or a crossroads. Call it the Emotionally Fucked Roundabout of Despair. Business is stressful and not yet financially rewarding. My roommate is moving out in a week or three. I still seek nine-to-fivey kinda work but law school starts in a week. There are part-time opportunities available but ...

... but nothing I guess. I either get a job, move someone into the apartment who can significantly contribute to the rent each month, and make some money come in, or I lose this apartment one month into my first year of law school. I'm sure I'd handle that REALLY well. Do they have cocktail hours in sanitoriums? How do all these people who continually tell me how much SMARTER I am than them somehow manage to seem so much better at the simple requisite tasks of day-to-day life than I have ever been? Am I some kinda idiot-savant, with the talent of appearing to be a genius to everyone else when really I'm just a Rain Man who can't count cards?

Really, kids. Tell me how you do it. How do you balance your budgets? How do you avoid being taken advantage of? How do you regulate your bowel movements while keeping your diets interesting? Let's start a self-help book here. That self is me.

It's a hard world out there when you're nouveau-bipolar.