What does that say about the success of the US "War on Drugs" or the efficiency of the DEA?

Perhaps that is one of the reasons I've gained my reputation for having a work-ethic. I don't nod. I wake up. I show up on time. Anomaly.

And now, with the massive layoffs in the airline industry and all attendant tourism sectors, we know that America is going back into tough times. But, like G21 says on this week's cover, "Tough times never last, tough people do..."

I had to point out to my landlord, a guy named Jim, that he has enabled part of the problem in our neighborhood, as members of the network of junkies here either have or do work for him or have or do live in his properties. That fact made me question some of his motives and motivations. As I was ending my time as an employee of his, I could not keep myself from confronting him with those observations. He was dumbstruck (a first for a guy reknowned for his hours long, rambling conversations in this town.) He once told me that his goal was to bring artists to the neighborhood, but direct observation has shown that he has seeded the area with once and future convicts.

My penchant for truth-telling continues to cause me as much harm as good.

As Loyal Readers know, last week this dream, The World's Magazine, faced the possibility of becoming another dot-com casualty. But thanks to an angel who decided that our mission was worthy of support, our domain name was re-upped for another two years. The gentlemen in question asked to remain anonymous, but we all owe him a great vote of thanks.

Because of his generosity, it is possible this week to bring you the insightful commentary of people like JANE WINTER, the Director of British Irish Rights Watch in our IRISH EYES section, as well as present the Special G21 AFRICA Double Feature which graces these page this week.

God willing, we will live up to the faith shown in our ability to provide unique and challenging commentary for this medium.

While the magazine manages to thrive, my own life continues to be problematic. No leads on the paralegal employment front so far and -- as mentioned above -- I lost another of my pickup construction jobs. Another was offered to me even before the tragedy, but it's of dubious prospect. I have retreated to measuring my priorities yet again, hoping to find a light at the end of this tunnel that is not an on-coming train.

The roommate situation here is even iffy. I have one roommate (Matt) who openly declares that only fools work, so he works as little as possible and is usually putting the touch on me for food, cigarettes and beer. Even after I contributed toward baling him out of accumulated past bills, he continues on the path of least resistance. Meanwhile, my other roommate (Caio) has taken the course of contributing nothing to the house that doesn't directly accrue to himself. That means that if food is bought, cleaning supplies are provided, et cetera, it is all from my tiny $8/hr construction work income. My roommates have no compunction about consuming any of the former, they just don't like the idea of having to pay any money for it... So, as was the case this weekend, I buy bread and watch it disappear before I even eat a slice; I buy a six-pack of cheap beer to have Matt consume four of them, leaving me two. It's an irksome pattern that just won't go away.

But that is part of the landscape of this city of vultures, New Orleans, too. The work ethic is low, but he will to sponge is boundless.

Though I pay a third of the rent and bills, it strikes no one except myself as troublesome that I don't enjoy a third of the amenities here. The pallette on which I sleep is in the same room as the washer and dryer and all of the computers, the only room without its own door. This means that I seldom get to choose when I sleep, either retiring or waking up. It is based entirely on the whims of my companions. Thus, if someone wants to stay up late downloading music, doing laundry, etc., I have no choice but to stay up late too. The joys of such an existence are without end.

Considering all the money I owe to my friends and colleagues, it's difficult watching what little I can accrue being sucked into this Black Hole. I have been grinding my teeth in my sleep, banging my head against stone walls trying to come up with some way to make enough income to escape this aching situation, but so far I have not caught a break.

Now my country has gone to war again. While I was Serbia, I noted that there were postcards of war. I have been meaning to share one or two of those with you. Perhaps I'll scan a couple for next week's edition. It's the Afghans turn to suffer now at our hands, then perhaps the Iraqis will get their situation worsened. I don't look forward to what we shall have to report in the coming months.

THINGS I (Continue) DREAM ABOUT THIS WEEK

Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appears both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.

Rod lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, right now. The new home of the magazine. But he plans to return to Serbia next year.

He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.

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