Thomas Carlucci
Taxpayer
Carlucci Enterprises
7510 Talley Road, #56
San Antonio, TX 78253
(210)555-5555
5555-555(012)
Just the fax, ma'am. Just the fax.
http://www.geocities.com/carluccienterprises
figmo@satx.rr.com
Go back. GO BACK!
So, just who IS this guy that he is willing to take on the USPS? What is he all about? I am glad you asked.
I was born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, a bunch of years ago. My father was in the USAF and my mom worked at a secretary/stenographer. My dad was Italian/Irish; my mom German. I was their first-born.
I spent 8 years growing up in Europe. Not all at the same time. We lived in Germany, England and Belgium. I graduated from high school in France just before France kicked NATO out. By the way, Frenchies--if it had not been for the United States and its allies who came to rescue your butts, not once, but TWICE--you would probably be eating sauerkraut today and singing O Mein Papa. If Germany invades you again, to hell with you. You are on your own.
My parents were quite strict. My brothers and I were taught to say yes sir, no sir, yes ma'am, no ma'am. They taught us right from wrong. We learned what it was like to live in a foreign country. We lived not on base, but on "the economy". My first girlfriend was British. The first time I almost ran over someone in a car was when I was driving in Belgium. HA! That would have been great public relations.
I saw the battlefields of Europe; the grave markers; the survivors; the relics of war. I was drafted into the military when we were living in Brussels. And when I arrived at boot camp, in a group of 80 young men, I felt like a worldly man. Those boys were so very naive about the world.
I remember once when our shipped stopped in a French port in the Mediterranean, one of my shipmates said to me, "Man, I just don't understand these foreigners." Typical American pompous idiot. "WE--are the foreigners, pal. WE--are in THEIR country," I told him.
I am not a hero. I am not a martyr. But I DO believe in human rights; civil rights. I DO believe in standing up for what you feel is right. I also believe in coming to the aid of those who may not be able to defend themselves. I know the difference between right and wrong. And I have a conscience. It is my conscience, my integrity, my refusal to look the other way when someone is doing something very wrong, especially against someone else, that has gotten me into trouble much of my life.
Even when I see employers doing something very wrong--especially against its employees, I bite my lip as long as I can. But there comes a point when I cannot remain silent any longer. SOMEONE has to speak up, and if no one else has the courage, the backbone, the -- integrity -- to stand up, then I will. And often that has been my demise. But at least I can hold my head up and not be ashamed of myself. At least I can say to myself, "I am a man; not a dog."
I am not so naive as to think everyone will agree with me. "Play the game," I have been told. "Don't make waves." Sorry. I can't do that. Many of you now have little respect for me. Many of you scoff. But I am sure many agree with me. Many more wish they had the courage to stand up against discrimination, harassment and wrong-doers. I know what the consequences are for doing so. I have suffered greatly for my actions. But I am not ashamed of them.
In college, I was a straight 'A' student. I was on the Dean's List the very first semester and stayed there. But--due to personal circumstances, I didn't remain in college. My mistake. My BIG mistake.
My strongest subjects were English Composition and Journalism; two totally opposite styles of writing. I was even BMOC on the campus of one college for a while because of articles I wrote for the college newspaper. Again, I was standing up for what was right against that which was wrong. I wrote articles about bookstore prices and an article about a handicap ramp that was not built in accordance with Federal regulations. The maximum incline should have been 12 degrees. I discovered the ramp's incline was greater, making it difficult for handicap students to roll their wheelchairs up the ramp. I believe the ramp was torn down and rebuilt.
Other articles addressed the difficulties handicapped students had gaining access to classrooms above the ground floor. And there were other articles. Students would seek me out to tell me about something they felt should be in the paper. I took on the Administration face-to-face. I wasn't exactly a welcome face when I would ask to interview the Dean.
The ONLY 'B' I received in college was from a female journalist professor. I believed then and still do today the ONLY reason I received that 'B' was because she and I had a difference of opinion. I earned an 'A'. She was a bleeding heart liberal, as so many journalists are. I am a bit of a liberal, too, but--my background, the way I was raised, the things I saw as a kid growing up in Europe keeps the conservative and liberal parts of me in a constant debate. I guess that puts me more in the middle of the road.
There is more, but I won't bore you with it. By now, you should have a thumbnail sketch of who I am. If given the opportunity to do it all again, the choices I would make would be better ones, but I would still stand up for what I feel is right. That would not change.
