CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
September 5, 1985
It is a sad, sad state of affairs when we learn that both the President of the United States, Ronald Reagan, while head of the Screen Actors Guild, and Jackie Presser, head of the Teamsters Union, were informers for the FBI. It dismays me that persons in positions of trust can betray their fellow workers in the name of self-interest and "patriotism." I recall attending a New York subway workers' rally during those years when Mike Quill, head of that union, said, "I'd rather be called a Red by a rat, than be called a rat by a Red."
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
December 21, 1997 |
These days, you never know when the world will turn on you, without warning, and make you a pariah. With Casey and me, it all began with the rat. Casey is my son. He's 6. About two weeks ago we were walking through a park. The sun was shining, the breeze blowing. Everything seemed chipper. Then Casey made an announcement. He had decided what he wanted for Christmas. "A rat," he said. I corrected him. "You mean a mouse." I pictured a tiny white thing with pink eyes. A cute little fella.
September 14, 1986 |
"RAT IN THE KITCHEN," UB40. A&M. On its previous albums this English band's social-political reggae tended to sound formulaic and dull. But with the quintet's latest and best album, it has finally established its own engaging identity. The songwriting is sharper and more melodic than in the past. Plus the arrangements and tempos are more varied and uplifting.
May 5, 2002
Besides vampires and Hells Angels, rats may be the most public relations-challenged species of all time. Think about it. What are these pointy-nosed, pointy-tailed creatures good for? Chewing walls and wires, gnawing attic treasures, housing fleas and spreading the plague. So, how surprising to learn the other day that doctors in New York (not the surprising part) have wired rats to obey human commands. No, not to walk into rat traps. The doctors stuck three little wires into rat brains.
February 11, 2001
So John Johnson claims he's a former desert rat and then confesses to being raised in Colton ("Confessions of a Former Desert Rat," Jan. 14). Colton? I was raised in Indio and the Coachella Valley, when swamp coolers were all there was and you didn't move on the highway without a prayer and a canvas water bag hanging from the bumper of your '49 Studebaker. So I know. Johnson's no desert rat; he's a big-city boy. Well, no matter. He writes like a dream and brought back many memories. Ann Calhoun Los Osos Johnson's work is sophomoric, supercilious, defamatory and inaccurate.