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Yes, absolutely. JobCorps is subject to the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (ADA) and its later amendments, and if all a trainee needs to perform adequately with ADHD are meds and/or an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) aka “504” plan, these are inherently reasonable accommodations.The only common ADHD meds JobCorps centers are required to provide at no cost to the trainee are mixed amphetamine salts (Adderall) and methylphenidate (Ritalin/Concerta), but especially if you have any type of insurance or Medicaid, and sometimes even if you do not, the doctor at the JobCorps Wellness clinic can work with you on other meds on a case by case basis.If the JobCorps doctor feels he or she cannot work with your ADHD regimen because the dose is too high or your combination of medications (for all conditions) would not generally be recommended for medical safety reasons, you could still continue it as long as you could arrange transportation & attend appointments with your non-JobCorps medical provider(s) who prescribed the treatment regimen—you would have excused absences for these appointments. It’s important to write down your medications for ADHD and all other conditions & list them on all pre-JobCorps health history forms & at the entrance exam, & bring as much of a supply of any current prescription meds as you can. Do not bring non-prescription (“OTC”) medicines & supplements; these are not verifiable in the same way prescription pills are therefore JobCorps must provide any OTC meds that are deemed medically necessary.

Okay, gonna burst some balloons here. Are you a conservative who longs for the good ol’ days? When I was kid, growing up in the ‘60s, most other kids I knew had dads who worked and moms who stayed home. Now I grew up in Los Angeles, so the number of working mothers was significantly above average compared to rest of the country, but still, most moms I knew ran the household while dad worked. The jobs dads had provided enough money to pay for the house, a vacation once a year, college for the kids at some point, some sort of decent retirement plan and healthcare was part of the employment package. Those were the good ol’ days right? Well, they were if you were white, but that’s another story.Why were those old days better than today? Back then things worked like they’re supposed to. You know, like they were always meant to be. Today everyone, both liberals and conservatives, talk about how the current mess we’re in is some kind of dip, a temporary thing, something to be gotten through before things go back to normal, back to the way they used to be. But that period of middle class growth after WWII was the aberration. The good ol’ days were not normal. Throughout history the wealthy have always exploited those below them on the economic ladder. Any change in that dynamic had to be fought for. And it was usually bloody.All those things old white guys like me pine for were brought to us by people who had to fight for them. Those things were brought to us by unions. Here’s a list of things they fought to brings us-WeekendsAll Breaks at Work, including your Lunch BreaksPaid VacationFMLASick LeaveSocial SecurityMinimum WageCivil Rights Act/Title VII (Prohibits Employer Discrimination)8-Hour Work DayOvertime PayChild Labor LawsOccupational Safety & Health Act (OSHA)40 Hour Work WeekWorker's Compensation (Worker's Comp)Unemployment InsurancePensionsWorkplace Safety Standards and RegulationsEmployer Health Care InsuranceCollective Bargaining Rights for EmployeesWrongful Termination LawsAge Discrimination in Employment Act of 1967Whistleblower Protection LawsEmployee Polygraph Protect Act (Prohibits Employer from using a lie detector test on an employee)Veteran's Employment and Training Services (VETS)Compensation increases and Evaluations (Raises)Sexual Harassment LawsAmericans With Disabilities Act (ADA)Holiday PayEmployer Dental, Life, and Vision InsurancePrivacy RightsPregnancy and Parental LeaveMilitary LeaveThe Right to StrikePublic Education for ChildrenEqual Pay Acts of 1963 & 2011 (Requires employers pay men and women equally for the same amount of work)Laws Ending Sweatshops in the United States*If you have any of these things as an employee you can thank liberals. If you don’t have things on this list you can thank conservatives. You see, before liberals formed unions and fought for these things employers milked their workers for all they were worth and paid them as little as they could get away with. That was how it had always been. The wealthy exploit. They exploited peasants before they exploited workers and exploited slaves before they exploited peasants. This history of exploitation is well documented. It’s not hard to find confirmation of all this on the web or in dusty tomes. You can’t really make a credible case against it.After the Great Depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt worked with progressives to restructure how our economy worked. Then, after WWII, liberal Democrats** and moderate Republicans finessed our position as victors in that global conflict and brought unprecedented prosperity to working and middle class Americans. But the wealthy old guard didn’t like this development and worked tirelessly to get back to the days of unhindered exploitation. It started under President Nixon and hit high gear with The Reagan Revolution. Union busting became a top priority. It’s not hard to see a parallel between shrinking unions, stagnant wages and disappearing benefits, since 1980.So the good ol’ days Trump voters yearn for, the America that used to be great, was brought to you by progressive economic policies pushed by liberals and supported by moderates. One has to admire the political acumen of the Senators and House Reps currently owned by The Establishment. While bringing about the reinstitution of age old economic exploitation, they’ve been able to get the victims to blame each other. Millions of voters blamed liberals, minorities and immigrants for their economic woes and have supported the very policies that hurt them. And they’ve done so for decades. We liberals have written off these voters rather than acknowledging the fact that their anger is justified. It’s the old divide-and-conquer bullshit. It’s old because it works.Is liberalism better than conservatism? Well, I’m a liberal who thinks some things should be conserved. Things like the environment. I’ve supported the preservation of old buildings rather than see them become parking lots. I believe in the importance of family. I maintain friendships through thick and thin. What does that make me? I’ll tell you. It makes me an American.*Thank you Daily Kos.**Not all Democrats are, nor always were, liberal. Back in the day many Dems were anything but progressive or even moderate.

Aw, yeah. I know the feeling.Oh, Vladimir!Your cunning yet elegant puzzle-box structures!Your mandarin command of the English language!Your dizzying spectacles of desire, longing and obsession!Who, oh who, to read next?Once you’ve been ravished by Nabokov—and I’ve read almost all his novels, some of his plays, most of his short stories, his lectures on literature, half his autobiography and too many of his interviews—it really can feel, for a long time, like nobody else quite measures up.The truth is that there is nobody out there quite like Nabokov.The sad corollary is that anyone wanting to read a sort of secondary Nabokov—an, as it were, non-union Mexican equivalent—will be disappointed.¡Ay de mí!But that is not the same as saying as there is nobody as good as him.Or greater than him.In their own way, admittedly.You see, I, too, fell under the spell of the suave Russian master.But I got over it.Let me explain how.The trick is not to look for someone else who’s like Nabokov.The trick is to wean yourself off him.Which you can only do if you see him more clearly.To see him away from the fog that he liked to lay about himself and his reputation, which made him look like a soaring peak, amid so many lumbering, lumpen foothills.Once we can see Nabokov more clearly, his spell is broken.And we are free to appreciate other writers, whose virtues we no longer (like him) dismiss.Here is my x-step program of Denabokovation.I call it ‘x-step’ because I haven’t yet figured out how many steps there will be.Step One. Read all the novels.Okay, as I pointed out above, I haven’t actually done this.I’ve never read Mary, his first novel, although I have a copy of it. Likewise, The Eye, which I also have.I don’t think I ever finished Bend Sinister, either, and I know I never finished the insufferable King Queen Knave, which its own author rated inexplicably highly.My point is, what do they know of Nabokov who only his English novels know?Yeah, anyone can read Lolita and Pale Fire and, oh go on then, Pnin, and tell themselves that they love Nabokov. And these are the books upon which his reputation is founded, same way that I don’t believe anyone’s read Don DeLillo who hasn’t read White Noise and Libra. (Incidentally, if you like Nabokov, you might like those two novels.) And if you’ve ever been super-hardcore, like I was, you’ve powered through The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, and Ada, and Transparent Things and even Look at the Harlequins!But Nabokov’s English-language career was his second career.The true reader needs to come to grips with the Russian fiction.Nabokov’s Russian novels, even in the translations that he presided over (which were mostly by his son, but let’s not pretend that VN didn’t sign off every last comma), are less firework-y than his English-language novels, but what they may lack in verbal Pop Rocks they make up for in…Well…Okay, well, they’re very good, anyway.His Russian novels do have some features which may strike us as being a bit of their time, a bit dinner-jacketed and sophisticated in an interwar kinda way, such as their preoccupation with marital infidelity. King Queen Knave and Laughter in the Dark are very much books that one reads with a tolerant sense of At least when this is all over I can say that I finished them.All of the English-language editions contain forewords from their author, in which Nabokov, in his most blithely self-regarding manner, informs the reader how good the books are. The opening sentence of the foreword to King Queen Knave grates on me to this day: Of all my novels this bright brute is the gayest.It’s not the use of the word ‘gay’ that nags me. Nabokov meant it in the ‘cheerful’ sense, and would never have meant anything else by that word.It’s that this sentence completely belies this reader’s experience of the book.But when he wasn’t relying on standard literary conventions of the era, he wrote some doozies.The Luzhin Defence, his third, is the first really good Nabokov novel: a meticulously patterned yet heart-rending study of an obsessive chess genius and his struggles with mental health issues. The final sentence is a real slam-dunk.Glory is a bittersweet tale about a young Swiss-Russian man living an emigré existence outside the USSR: Martin Edelweiss is the most straightforwardly good-hearted and likeable of all Nabokov’s protagonists.But the greatest of the Russian novels is The Gift, the last novel in that language that he published (a later novella in Russian, The Enchanter, was published posthumously.)The Gift is the story of Fyodor, a young writer, another emigré, living in Berlin after the revolution, and in a sense it’s Nabokov’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: in it, Fyodor goes from being a promising young student to a fledgling author and finds true love while he’s doing it, despite poverty, exile and few people taking him seriously.The fourth chapter is an entire book within a book, Fyodor’s short biography of the 19th century socialist novelist and critic Nikolay Chernyshevsky, and given that the book is supposed to be evidence of what a good writer Fyodor is, it’s a masterly feat of writing.And yet.The Gift’s fourth chapter, although incredibly beguiling (it’s even written in a style subtly different from Nabokov’s own, but no less polished), is an example of Nabokov’s well-documented tendency to be maliciously unfair about other writers.Chernyshevsky was a clumsy writer with some weird ideas and habits, to be sure. But he was also a highly important writer to a generation of Russian readers and revolutionaries.Tolstoy admired Chernyshevsky’s 1863 novel What Is To Be Done? so much that he named his own 1886 state-of-Russia book What Then Must We Do?Lenin was even more of a fanboy, calling his own 1903 pamphlet on the state of resistance, What Is To Be Done?(This tradition was continued in J. Stalin’s Just Do What I F—ing Tell You, N. Khruschev’s Let’s Not Do That So Much Anymore and V. Putin’s What? I Haven’t Done Anything.)Of course, Nabokov knew all this—the stuff I didn’t make up, anyway.He wrote Fyodor’s Life of Chernyshevsky the way that he did, not only to make Fyodor seem like a writer of great talent, but also to piss all over revolutionary socialist traditions, whether they were in Russia or elsewhere.Once we can see that Fyodor’s beautifully-written but immensely condescending hatchet job on Chernyshevsky is, after all, not much more than a hatchet job, we can start to perceive the limits of Nabokov’s sympathies.That said, The Gift is the only Nabokov novel that still retains a place on my living room bookshelves, all the other ones being relegated to a cupboard.Step Two. Recognise that Nabokov liked to do the same thing over and over again.Nabokov’s English-language novels often take the form of some other kind of book. Lolita is supposedly the posthumously published memoir of its protagonist, who calls himself Humbert Humbert. Pale Fire is supposedly an annotated edition of the last poem by a second-tier American poet. Ada is another kinda sorta memoir, with a lecture inserted into it. Pnin looks like a conventional comic novel about a comically absent-minded professor, but turns out not to be.However, this disguises the fact that in them, Nabokov often adopts a similar basic situation, with a similar cast of archetypal characters.The Charming Bastard Narrator/Protagonist. In all the aforementioned novels, the narrator turns out to be a major character in the book, and in all cases, that character has a superficially charming, even dazzling verbal manner which distracts attention away from the fact that the narrator/protagonist is really not a very nice person. In Lolita, it’s Humbert; in Pale Fire, it’s Charles Kinbote, the supposed editor of the poem: in Ada it’s Van Veen and to a certain extent his lover and sister Ada; in Pnin it’s V.V., the book’s supposed author.The Shambling Foil. Nabokov likes to link the CBN/P to a character who is less charming and less suave but a better person, but who the CBN/P underestimates or undervalues. In Lolita it’s Humbert’s wife and Dolores’ mother Charlotte, who loves him but realises too late that he’s only interested in her barely pubescent daughter. In Pale Fire it’s the poet, John Shade. In Pnin it’s actually Pnin himself, the book’s ostensible main character. In Ada it’s Ada’s various and more or less unsatisfactory suitors.The Quietly Pitiable Victim. There is almost always a character hidden away in a corner who suffers terribly because of the heartless cruelty of the CBN/P. In Lolita it is, of course, the title character, who although a major character is verbally ‘hidden away in a corner’ by Humbert’s obsession with her, which blinds him most of the time to the reality of what he’s doing to her. In Pale Fire it’s John Shade’s daughter Hazel, who is plain, lonely and depressed and who ends up committing suicide, although Kinbote, the book’s narrator, entirely fails to feel sorry for her in any meaningful way. In Ada it’s Lucette, Ada and Van’s half-sister, who is hopelessly in love with Van and who commits suicide by jumping off an ocean liner. And in Pnin it’s Pnin’s ex-wife Liza, who V.V. had an affair with and was mean to, and who attempted suicide.Once you notice this, so to speak, deep structure doing its work in Nabokov’s major English-language novels, I suggest that they no longer seem like quite the peerless and unique masterpieces that they used to seem.After Ada, Nabokov broke out of this particular pattern. Transparent Things and Look at the Harlequins! are much more muted than the novels of the 50s and 60s: Transparent Things does have a sort of narrator, but he’s not one of Nabokov’s smirking, preening European literary types, while the narrator of LATH is one of those types, but minus the self-satisfaction, good humour and glittering prose style. In fact he’s a bit of a dork, but a curiously endearing one.I like that about those books, but many fans don’t.Step Three. Read the interviews and biographies.I recently finished reading Alex Beam’s The Feud: Vladimir Nabokov, Edmund Wilson and the End of a Beautiful Friendship, a very funny and bittersweet account of the long relationship between Nabokov and the man who at one time was his closest American friend, the great critic and not-so-great novelist Edmund Wilson.The Nabokov/Wilson relationship became very warm very quickly, but then spent a long time cooling off.Part of this was undoubtedly due to the fact that Nabokov was a much better fiction writer than Wilson, and Wilson was jealous of Nabokov’s talent but unable to admit it to himself or anyone else.Wilson as a critic had a peculiar and wonderful gift for taking writers and books that were neglected and showing how much more interesting they were than the reader thought.His mighty study of the literature of the US Civil War, Patriotic Gore, is made of that, but so is his sympathetic book about the socialist tradition, To The Finland Station, a book Nabokov must have loathed.Wilson’s genius as a critic was, in a certain sense, patronising. He liked to give hitherto neglected writers a leg-up.Nabokov, however, was absolutely certain about his own genius, and something about him inhibited Wilson from ever giving Nabokov major critical attention when he could have really used it. ‘Bunny’, as everyone called Wilson, would fire off letters to ‘Vladimir’ telling him how of course he liked the new novel but wasn’t there something about it that was etc. etc. etc., and Nabokov would reply fondly, but presumably sigh in private to his wife Vera that Wilson was never going to step up and say something really nice about him in public.It all fell apart when Nabokov issued his monumentally eccentric translation of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, and Wilson attempted to criticise it using, among other tools, his never-perfect Russian.Beam tells this story with a sort of amused regret, noting that a genuinely devastating review of Nabokov’s Onegin translation did, in fact, come out in the journal Modern Philology, written by a Harvard professor of economic history called Alexander Gerschenkron, but it got lost in the smoke and shrapnel from the Nabokov-Wilson feud. Let’s just say that the fight between these two very privileged and civilised men was nasty, bitter and, with hindsight, hilariously unworthy of both of them.Even after the fuss died down, Wilson remained someone who Nabokov thought about fondly.Unfortunately, this made him something of an anomaly among Nabokov’s contemporaries.Which brings us to Step 4.Step Four. Accept that Nabokov could be an unconscionable wanker about other writers and anyone else he disagreed with.Nabokov did praise writers that he liked.In the posthumously published and atrociously edited Lectures on Literature, his praise of people like Joyce, Stevenson and Flaubert is genuine.However, he disliked other writers more often than he liked them.The lectures were the ones he gave while teaching at Cornell, and he had to have his arm twisted to include Jane Austen at all. He commented in a letter to Wilson I am prejudiced, in fact, against all women writers, and although on closer examination he conceded that Austen was worth including, the overall tone of his lecture about her work is dutiful rather than enthusiastic.Elsewhere, he was never shy about firing off insults at anyone he didn’t like.He dismissed Brecht, Faulkner, Camus and Thomas Mann as mediocrities.He sneered at Henry James’ ‘plush vulgarities’.He called Virgil ‘insipid’ and threw in a homophobic sneer about the ‘pale pederasts’ in the Eclogues.His lifelong inability to refrain from going on about how rubbish Freud was, is the sound of a man who protested too much.He described the great German romantic scholar and critic August Schlegel as ‘well-meaning but talentlos’.He was grudging about Dostoyevsky, and it’s partly his fault that I still can’t take Dostoyevsky seriously, apart from The Double, which after all is basically Dostoyevsky doing Gogol.When Robert Lowell criticised Nabokov’s Onegin for being barely in English at all, Nabokov lashed out at him for ‘mutilating dead poets’.Basically, when it came to other writers, Nabokov was usually a mean-minded, ignorant prick.Gerschenkron, in his review of Onegin, pointed out that Nabokov’s extremely long critical commentary on the poem was riddled with sneers and jabs at other scholars who had worked at least as hard as Nabokov had to enrich understanding of the work.‘This patronizing tone,’ Gerschenkron wrote, ‘comes with exceedingly poor grace from a writer who is ever ready to exult over his own little discoveries.’Nabokov’s bizarre outbursts of hostility did not stop at writers he considered overrated. He was quite happy to have no sympathy for entire populations.His anti-communism was so strong and so personal that when then-President Lyndon Johnson recovered from his gall bladder operation in November 1965, Nabokov sent him a letter congratulating him on his recovery, and expressing the hope that Johnson would soon get back to the ‘wonderful work’ he was doing in South-East Asia.This was a reference to Operation Rolling Thunder, the long aerial bombardment campaign carried out against North Vietnam, in which tens of thousands of civilians were killed, possibly up to 182,000.Now, I’ve argued elsewhere that we shouldn’t immediately stop reading a writer whose personal conduct we have a problem with. And I would still argue that.But with Nabokov, as with anyone, we should bear this stuff in mind.And in particular, we should bear in mind that writers as eminent as Virgil, Freud, Brecht, Faulkner, Camus, Mann, Henry James and, well, every woman writer ever, aren’t third-rate idiots just because Nabokov thought they were.Personally, I would exchange all of Nabokov’s work just for Brecht’s poetry.ConclusionBut, Alex! How can you do this? The question was about how to find a writer who is remotely comparable to Nabokov from an aesthetic point of view!And instead, what you’ve basically done is take the work of Vladimir Nabokov, and piss all over it!Yes, I have.And the reason that I did that was precisely because Nabokov was far too kind to himself, and far too harsh about other writers with whom he had no sympathy, simply because they weren’t trying to do the same thing as him, or he disliked their politics, or both.Brecht’s poetry and plays, with their unparalleled insight into historical guilt and complicity and the ethics of being a survivor, do have the power to move us and make us think. Faulkner’s grappling with history and family and the South can be mesmerising and powerful. Camus’ own personal battle with his own origins and the politics of his time is moving and involving. Freud wasn’t full of crap. Henry James was writing with great acuity and insight about something real.Virgil really was one of the greatest poets of all time.When you’re within the Nabokov bubble, he seems like the supreme artist of fiction: the master-weaver of words.But once the bubble has popped, the extreme narrowness of his work becomes a good deal more obvious.The things that Nabokov didn’t want to write about aren’t less real, or less worth dealing with, simply because he personally thought himself above such concerns.His reluctance to deal with them wasn’t superior judgement on his part, although he liked to boast that it was.It was to do with the things he couldn’t control: who he was, where he came from, and where his loyalties lay.Postscript…Huh.Turns out there were four.