Charles Atkins' Phantom City

Rectangular Crop Circles in Times Square

The exclusive Unicycle Sun interview with New Age guru, Oliver Libra, author of such bestsellers as, Bee Hear Noun, Tantra Interruptus, Sirius Buddhism, and his latest social commentary on quantum metaphysics and capitalism gone awry, Rectangular Crop Circles in Time Square. The Unicycle Sun found our reclusive author at his Colorado mountain top retreat on the eve of his latest, maybe final book tour.

US: You’ve been a counterculture icon since your teaching days at Berkley, when you were expelled for allegedly dosing Henry Kissinger with some Owsley acid. Next, you meditated naked atop of the Empire State Building Tower to draw attention to the Vietnam War. You followed that event with your first bestseller on modern magick and mysticism, Mister and Mythology. You’ve been stirring up the world for more than forty years, what’s this new book all about? Based on my reading, you take on Wall Street.

OL: It’s a book about liars, cheats, and well dressed demons. It’s more than a book on Wall Street greed, it’s about the greed that has gripped the human mind.

US: How so?

OL: We are surrounded by liars, cheats, and capitalistic henchmen who think no more of robbing grandma of her life savings or ruining your grandkids college education, just so they can live the high life now.

US: Let’s backtrack a little, in Bee Hear Noun, you challenge conventional science with the notion that all things are inter-connected; an idea in Buddhism, but unknown in modern science at the time.

In Tantra Interruptus, you challenge our conventional ideas of sex. In Sirius Buddhism, you assert that the universe is inhabited by races of living beings that practice teachings akin to what we call Buddhism.

But in your new book, Rectangular Crop Circles in Times Square, you take aim at capitalism, the very system that has enriched you.

OL: Capitalism has some very ugly aspects to it that no makeup can conceal. Becoming wealthy or not, I would still write, even if there was no other reward except personal satisfaction. At heart, I’m no different than any other struggling writer who seeks publication. We write for the love of writing, even when no one’s reading.

US: Lot’s of people are reading.

OL: Maybe they won’t when they realize that I’m writing about them. It’s not just the big shots who rake in millions, I’m taking to task the people who sell defective merchandise, say a used car, knowing it’s defective, just to make a buck.

I’m “outing” the suburban couple who put their nest egg in investments that yield far more than the reasonable return on investment, because they’re greedy, but then lose their nest egg and cry on TV.

I’m taking aim on the credit card companies pushing their high interest rate cards on college kids with no appreciable income, and I’m giving a nasty shout out to the millions of people in America who live on their credit cards, piling up enormous debt on frivolity. Our standard of living here is a house of cards and the wind is starting to blow.

US: Well, lot’s of people need to live on those cards in order to survive.

OL: Nonsense. People ignore the value and importance of a home cooked meal. People don’t really need the latest gizmo or newest car. I go in to great detail on how we got into this mess and why we need to get a grip in order to get out of it.

US: Although I agree, I don’t see that happening.

OL: And you won’t until the system stops working.

US: Can we stop this before it’s too late?

Part two to be continued…

You Can’t Out Run The Cancer Tiger

Right now, there is a cancer-ridden teenager on the run. His name is Daniel Houser. CNN has covered this story extensively. His mother freaked out because her son, who has Hodgkin’s lymphoma got ill after one treatment! Depending on the cellular type of Hodgkin’s lymphoma and where it may have spread, this cancer is more than 90% curable with conventional chemotherapy and perhaps radiation, when necessary. Daniel’s mother is protecting him to death.

Some of you who read my book Modern Buddhist Healing, may remember chapter one of the second experiential part of the book, "My Battle." Chapter One is called Double Tiger. Cancer is like a tiger that stalks you and cancer is an internal tiger that devours your nerves. You must face this beast or you may very well be devoured and die. It's not an easy battle, but it must be fought. And, yes, there are many thousands that have faced this tiger and have lived to tell about it. Daniel may never get that chance if his weak willed, misguided mother continues to protect him - TO DEATH.

Daniel’s mother absconded with her son to places unknown to pursue alternative treatments because her son became ill after a single treatment. They are Catholic and believe in natural remedies like nutrition, pure oils, and other natural methods. There is nothing wrong with these methods as an adjunct to proven, conventional treatment, as long as his physician is informed and agrees. Where Daniel’s mother is loving her boy to death is her break from reason, logic, and science. The treatment for Hodgkin’s lymphoma is one of the few true cancer treatment success stories out there. For the mother to fall sway to her son’s reaction to chemotherapy is tragic. The chemotherapy drugs make you vomit for a short while, but it’s over in a few hours. That’s the meager tradeoff – puke for a few hours and live for 50 years. The nausea goes away and they have medicine for that as well. What Daniel's mother is doing in her attempt to fight cancer with alternative treatment is to stop a tiger with a twig when she needs an assualt rifle. It all seems so obvious to an outsider, but emotion, mis-channeled compassion, and bad science have deluded her into thinking supplemental treatment is primary treatment. Daniel needs Nitrogen Mustard, Vincristine, and the other proven combination chemotherapy drugs that literally kill cancer cells (along with some good ones). If the mother comes to her senses, the boy can be saved. Whether the courts can actually mandate treatement is an entirely different issue. Reason, logic, and science are the prime point here and Daniel can be saved by a difficult, but tolerable method that has gone through many clinical trials. The treatment is not miraculous, it's scientifically viable in most cases. With a 90% survival rate, how can anyone reasonably look for something better. You feel sick, but you get over it.

The mother thinks she is protecting her son, but she is hastening his demise. If he had a cavity, would she keep him from the pain of the needle and drill until the tooth developed an abscess then went septic? The treatment for Hodgkin’s lymphoma works, even for extremely advanced cases. Daniel’s mother needs to know that the tradeoff for a long, cancer free life is most minimal when you consider the alternatrive, which is an extremely painful, protracted death. Yes, chemotherapy is harsh, but it is a breeze compared to the devouring tiger that chews up your body and mind, one bite at a time until you’re dead, dead, dead. She is not doing him any favors. She is, in reality, going to cause her son, herself, her husband, and her family, far more pain than if she told her boy to “Man-Up,” and take the treatment.

You may not be able to outrun the tiger, but you can outsmart it. Wake up Mrs. Houser, and save your son. The tiger is hungry, but you have wisdom. It's only natural for a parent to feel intense compassion for their child, not wanting them to suffer. In this case, the treatment will cure your son. Your son has the right to live and you have the responsibility to lead him to safety.

Update: Mrs. Houser and her son have returned and appeared in court. The judge ordered Daniel to undergo chemotheraphy.

Question and Personal Opinion: Should the courts be able to mandate treatment in a free society? My opinion is, in certain cases, that the courts are within their rights to protect the welfare of minors, such as in this particular instance. As a general rule, unless a public health hazard could ensue without quarantine or immediate treatment, individuals must maintain their right to refuse treatment or pursue alternative means. I would even go so far as to say, in my humble opinion, that physician assisted suicide should be a legal option in certain cases determined by law.

Culinary Saints, Demons, Divas & Dipsticks

It’s been a while since my last entry as I have just finished with our busiest month at the restaurant where I work. I will add to this blog, perhaps substantially, over the next few days. Mother’s day and graduation at the University of Illinois, our local community college and all the area high schools, makes for an extremely busy schedule. As a Buddhist, my viewpoint is shaped by the Ten Worlds, and every other appropriate concept that explains the human condition and how to deal with it, while maintaining your own sanity. I survived and want to share some observations with all of you. The spectrum of humanity that you encounter is truly amazing. In the culinary world you encounter a roulette wheel of saints, demons, divas, and dipsticks on a daily basis.

Without doubt, the customers are the lifeblood of a restaurant. Without them, there is no business, no jobs, no paychecks. The idea that the customer is always right has never been truer than in the hospitality industry. If service is not excellent, the food is not expeditious and of good quality, or if the customer is not pleased in any way, they will go elsewhere. If that’s not enough, they will go out of their way to tell their friends and strangers what lousy restaurant you have. I have found that good news travels slowly but surely, and bad news spreads like wildfire. Every restaurant faces this daunting gauntlet of high, often unreasonable level of expectations, but that is our reality. Because competition is so intense for the dining dollar, those who don’t provide what the customer needs and wants they quickly will find their seats empty and their future in doubt. It has been my experience that success begins with the person in charge, just like the principle of cho-no ichinen. The leader determines everything and this phenomena is revealed from moment-to-moment.

As the general manager of the night shift, I have only three rules: 1. Show up for your shift. 2. Be on time. 3. Give me 100%. Once you’ve been hired, I don’t care if you’re a drunk, a crack head, you make and insert methamphetamine suppositories, or shoot heroin as a hobby. I don’t care what your sexual orientation is, if you have tattoos on your private parts, or if you have a felony record for running assault weapons. You start with a clean slate on my shift and I don’t play favorites. All I ask is that you show up for your shift on time, look clean and decent, and be sober/straight until after your shift ends. You must do all your side work (and there’s a lot of that), and give me 100% at all times. If you do that, I will be in your corner. If you don’t, I will fire you faster than an attacking swarm of pissed off killer bees on a threat to their queen.

I have zero tolerance for bullshit, excuses, laziness, apathy, or being rude to the customers. My rule is for you to leave your baggage at the door wearing your game face. When you interact with your customers, you must be like an award winning actor on stage - all smiles, with total focus on your table's needs. If you need to vent, do it to me, I'll understand and try to pump you up or get you back to center. But don’t spread the poison of negativity to the customers or your co-workers. As a personal hard and fast rule, I do not socialize outside of work with my employees. I am the boss and not your buddy. I can be considered a friend within the framework that you work for me and I have your back at all times, but I will not be going out with you after work for a drink or to smoke a joint of that primo bud you've been bragging about – ever. And I never, ever stick my pen in the company ink, no matter how cute or hot you think you are. I have seen many a manager fall hard because the lines of employer/employee have become blurred - there are no exceptions to this rule. No one has ever faulted me to my face for not hanging out with them after work and my crew knows that I lead by example versus my authority. Instead of crossing my arms and watching everyone work, I roll up my sleeves and sweat with the troops. It's not easy for a 58 year old man to run with the 20-somethings, but I give up my body for the cause. If you don’t strive in your labors or if you consciously pass the buck with your work, making extra work for others, I will fire you. Since the employees are not my buddies, there are no exceptions. I don’t care if you’re a single parent and the sole support of three little ones. If you don’t follow my few, but very strict rules, you will be gone. If you do follow them, I will put my own job on the line for you, and I have done so more than once. Here is a vital point that the Nichiren Shoshu priests have never understood: Respect does not come with a title, respect is earned through one’s actions. Even if I am not loved or considered one of the gang, I am trusted and respected by my employees.

It’s now been ten years in the business for me and I have seen, heard and experienced many things. I have found some truth in a number of stereotypes. Most of that experience has been positive, but the next time you go out to eat, I want to enhance your awareness of what goes on behind the scenes. We have all watched the food channel and observed the glamorous and sometimes glorious aspects of the culinary arts. We have even gone behind the scenes to see how it is done, but I have yet to see programming that captures the often dark, harsh realities of the restaurant business. Let me share with you some observations on how it all works and what the staff that serves you really does and what they often think.

A Restaurant Manager’s Candid Perspective

Front of the House

As general manager, I am responsible for the front of the house where diners eat. There are many, many things to be aware of to ensure a good experience is had by all. If you don’t, customers won’t come back, they will tell their friends what a lousy establishment you have, and they will go out of their way to report your negligence to the powers that be. It never ceases to amaze me how vicious people are and what great lengths they will go to get someone fired or in trouble for some perceived negligence or personal offense. Although most people are decent, it has become apparent that a great many people suck.

In my case, because our restaurant seats more than 100 people and is perpetually busy, there is a constant turnover of tables, and I must be concerned with the dining experience of all our patrons. I must supervise a large staff of overworked, underpaid employees who are assailed by every mood and quirk of a clientele with a wholly unrealistic level of expectation. Even when we are filled to capacity, many customers will throw a hissy fit if their food is not at their table within ten or fifteen minutes. There is no reasoning with customers when they believe they have had bad service. Customers have come to expect that they are the only people in the restaurant. If they feel hot or cold, they demand the temperature be adjusted to suit them, even though 100 other people are perfectly comfortable. It’s all about me, me, me.

I must supervise hosts, servers, bussers, cooks, dishwashers, maintenance, watch the quality and speed of service, and above all watch the money. But this is only a small part of what has to be done. I really need to be two people – if I could become two people, I hope the other Charles has a full head of hair.

Back of the House

There is nothing romantic about the restaurant business. We have seen plenty of grunt level line cooks who spent 50K going to culinary school who now flip burgers in a greasy, 100 degree kitchen. The kitchen is hot, loud, thankless, full of dangers, with a an intense pace and unwavering mandate for perfection. If anything with the food is even slightly wrong, it reflects back on the kitchen, and the server is punished with a diminished tip. Ultimately, all problems with quality and service land in the lap of the manager, who is responsible for everything.

One of the functions that I have is expediting food that comes out of the kitchen. I turn in and put a time on the tickets and when the food comes out, I need to check it against that ticket to make sure it is correct – any error creates a cascade of problems for the kitchen, the server, and for me. All of this is done at breakneck speed with zero margin for error. It’s not as difficult as it sounds if one can think clearly, quickly, and decisively. With experience, it is not uncommon to serve three or four hundred meals without a single error – but that one error can come back to bite you like an angry Doberman.

The Staff

The Hosts

These are the pretty young gals that greet the customers at the door and seat them. They are subject to considerable attitude by guests who insist on being sat in particular places, even when those places are not available. They are responsible for all money transactions, to-go orders, bussing tables as much as possible, and obtaining customer comments. They are often the lightening rod for complaints. They must do this job with grace, ease, and a perpetual smile on their face. They are underpaid, overworked, and unappreciated by the servers. They are my treasures, but only when they do their job right.

The Servers

Servers are generally type A personalities who are in transition or have settled for their fate of not getting a better job. They frequently suffer from bad relationships, substance abuse, and they generally burn out on customer abuse, the grind of the work, or self-created drama of their workplace. Servers at a good restaurant can make a living wage, but it is grueling, high pressure work that propels them into various vicious cycles that causes them to self-destruct. There are exceptions to this rule and those are the “lifers.” Someone described the servers life aptly when they said, “Waiting tables is like kissing Smelly Ass for Quarters.”

A warning for those who come right before closing – you’re not Elvis or Michael Jackson. The server with a smile hates you and the cook hates you even more. Check your food carefully as there may be a price you pay for keeping the staff late to induge your oblivious little lifestyle. The staff wants to get off of work - they're tired, they want to go home or out for a drink, or get to their kids. They don't want to spend another hour serving your selfish needs, for one lousy tip that won't even buy a pack of smokes. They'll hate you, they really will, and you don't even realize it because you're lost in your own little world of "me, me, me." I really don't care because I have to stay for much longer than anyone, anyway, but they might spit on your burger or cough on your ice cream. This holds true for even the fanciest four star restaurants - they will hate your guts and you'll be damn lucky if they don't get you back, some how. Of course, if I caught anyone doing these things, they would be instantrly fired, but suspecting is a far cry from knowing for sure. But you've been warned.

The Brutal Demographics of tippers or, "Oh, please, don't let some stereotypes be true!"

Indians - Perhaps the most polite, yet lousy tippers on the planet.

Asians - Better than the Indians by a small degree and subdivided into two types. 1. The well travelled and more affluent tip great. 2. The younger Asians tip at less than 10% and are strangely demanding.

Blacks - Very rarely is there any middle ground. Expect to get stiffed or overcompensated.

Hispanics - The best tippers in the world; why? They or a loved one works in the business and they know what a difficult rat race it is.

Whites - Often a pain in the ass. You have the 15-20% types, the little old ladies who think $1.00 is the maximum, and then you have the trailer trash grifters who have a plot or plan to complan about everything, so they can get free stuff or get out of their bill. Just last night I had someone with a $77.00 bill try to stiff their server just because he was a dick.

The bottom line on tippers is that there are exceptions to every race or cultural type. I must remind myself that I should never stereotype because that's foolish and wrong! Then, a group of 20 Indians comes into the restaurant 10 minutes before closing, louder and more annoying than howler monkeys. They keep us open an extra half hour, then either stiff the server or leave a tip of 7-9%. Next day, I remind myself that there are exceptions and I should not stereotype....Sometimes I feel as if I'm in a time loop and the universe is testing my logic and compassion. I know I should not be judgmental, then a table of 20 Indians come in 10 minutes before closing...

Leave Your Screaming Brats at Home or Smack Them Upside Their Little Heads Before They Come

Since our restaurant is a "family restaurant," parents often bring their children. I like kids if they're well behaved. One of my favorite sayings of the late Geroge Carlin, was to parents who thought their children were "special." He said it best when he said "Your Kid's Not Special!" Let me say it again, "Your kid's not special," so keep that parental glare and hickory switch in your disciplinary tool box. Remember the most important thing you can teach your kids in those formative years is a resounding "NO!" By that I don't mean, "maybe," or if you keep pushing, I'll cave. No means no.

Call it a sign of the times, but kids today do not, as a general rule, experience the strict, guiding hand of mom and pop. No longer do children get nervous or sweaty plams when they misbehave in public. It is common for children to run through the restaurant, getting in the way of patrons and staff, and if they don't get their way, scream at the top of their lungs, ruining others dining experience. Lord help us if we say a cross word to someone's little darling after they poured a milkshkae on their little sister or drew pictures on our wood counter tops. These kids are provided crayons which they frequently rip off the wrapers, then break them and throw on the floor. Mom and dad just leave them for the staff to pick up. These kids do not say "please" or "thank you" either. There sure are some good kids, but they seem to be getting more scarce.

I remember growing up in the fifties - a different age for sure! For us, it was sit with good posture, elbows off the table, "Yes, mam or sir," "Please and thank you." If I demonstrated the rude and disruptive behavior of the children so common now, my dad would drag my sorry little white ass out the door and tan my hide with his belt. It is clear to me that many parents don't have a clue how or why to keep their little darlings in line. They don't know how to say "No!" or "Shut up, you little shit!" And they should as I can see these kids getting to their teenage years without guidance or proper discipline, creating a generation of self-involved brats. The exceptions stand out and it is always the parents who do not tolerate rude behavior. Unless your kids can act quietly and respectfully in public, keep your little darlings at home.

The Fast Track To Obesity, “I’ll have some fat with my fat."

It never ceases to amaze me what horrific eating habits people have. It is very common to see people come in late at night and eat large meals. This is a big weight maintenance no-no. I try not to pass judgment on anyone. Sometimes, though, people really astonish me. When I see someone order a half pound burger with fries and ask for extra mayo, there is a raised eyebrow. I see people barely able to walk because they are so overweight. They sit down and order the most fattening items on the menu. Sometimes it seems like we are no better than drug dealers, dispensing their poison, only ours is in the form of food. I watch, day after day, as these people slowly kill themselves and there's not a dman thing that I can say about it.

The sad thing is all the young people from foreign countries that come here and take up our awful habits of eating fatty meals and desserts late at night and you can see them growing larger before your eyes. I am very sensitive to all of this and am bound to slience as eating as often and much as possible is important for a restaurant. If you tried to correct a customer, even if they were one corned beef sandwich away from a heart attack, you would be committing career suicide. So I stand silently, with a smile on my face, making our guests feel comfortable and welcome, knowing that we are complicit in their dietary murder. I am man who fashions the noose. It's murder, one calorie at a time.