A "hater" the other day asked me the question;

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9. Our Stories Have Many Facets In Common

I no longer have my guitar either. A few winters ago I was cold and could not afford to buy propane for my heater. So I sold my guitar to these nice people who gave me only one half of what it was worth. But it was enough to get me through the winter. Sometimes I have feelings of wanting to get another, just like you. But then I realize that there are many very talented people out there who play the kind of music that I love to listen to on that instrument, and for me it is enough to take pleasure in listening to them play. Besides, most of them can play it far better than I ever dreamed of playing.

To my eyes, during the 1950's and 1960's, Orange County was indeed a bastion (good word) of The John Birch Society. And then about the time I left to pursue a liberal education in San Francisco (actually Palo Alto), that movement morphed into blatant fascism. But now the impression I get when I visit there is that there has been a huge population increase of people of low means and low morals, and that has given way to a high rate of crime. It appears to me that now the American dream in Orange County is to own a tract home with bars on the windows and an electric fence protecting it's 60' x 120' property perimeter. At night, the police patrol the neighborhoods using low flying helicopters with huge flood lights that shine into people's backyards (concentration camp style), as they look for criminals engaged in various "acts" of crime. Make no mistake, the right wing of civilization still lives there, but they are now no longer in the majority.