Thursday, November 4, 2010

Al Capone Reincarnated

If I worked for someone who regularly extrorted "protection payments" from her staff and then somehow, some way, got someone to back up my story, couldn't we report this miscreant extortionist to the IRS and get her for the unclaimed income?

Monday, September 20, 2010

Some People Appreciate Boats

Some People Appreciate Boats.

People of varied backgrounds like boats. Most people who own boats have above-average incomes and may or may not be "connected."

Boats have been used in the illegal drug trade.

Boats are expensive.

Boating can be hazardous.

Boats require a great deal of maintenance.

I once read that Arizona had the highest per capita boater registration in the country. Interestingly Arizona does not have even ONE natural lake on which to operate a boat of any size.

A yacht is any boat over 27 feet in length, excluding commercial and military vessels.

The Yacht building industry is usually the first to suffer from a recession. It is also one of the first to indicate an economy-wide boom.

Some people who appreciate boats place a high value on appearances.

Others may actually need boats and/or yachts.

I think every Nazi needs a yacht for he has a higher probability of needing to sail away from his newly-found country. Nazis are generally unpopular. Nazis with yachts probably even less so.

Most Nazis are now too old to operate yachts by themselves.

Some popular people appreciated and/or needed yachts.

I find boats to generally be cramped, damp, dark, and uninviting. And expensive.

Saturday, April 10, 2010


I recently worked as a paralegal for a firm in a ski town in the Rockies.

After working there for about 2 months I realized that I may have jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. I quickly learned that this place is nothing more than a very expensive place for people in the program and based upon my experience, my new employers fit the bill to a tee!

One of the other paralegals was married to one of the partners. She looked like one of the guys from the band Twisted Sister and her personality was, well, she drove off over a dozen other staff members. We called her Sister Grimm.

In a town like this, it was a pretty sweet gig. She was horrid. Remember, people in the program are specifically prohibited from working in the legal industry. In this case, one of the partners was a municipal judge in the town whose police department ultimatley "investigated" their allegations of extortion and criminal libel- the exact kind of nightmarish scenario the DOJ attempted to avoid while creating the parameters of the program.

I am convinced this town will be the birthplace of the fourth Reich. (A sports celebrity may have been tried here for something which was proved to be untrue). I sense a pattern.

The relationship with the employer soured. I alleged some pretty outrageous overbilling and malpractice. The firm was being sued for malpractice so my allegations were not completely unfounded. I sent an e-mail to the firm's partners expressing some of my concerns about us nearly missing a critical deadline due to Sister Grimm's incompetence.

I got this e-mail back stating that they had accepted my resignation. I never quit, I was fired. I attempted to get the parties to enter into a separation agreement (standard shit where they would pay me the over time I was owed, etc. and we agree to not speak ill of each other - pretty important stuff considering that it was a small town.) I was also pretty active in some community service organizations and there was no way I could have survived if the venom that was being spewed by my former employer were to continue.

I was arrested and charged with criminal libel and extortion. I could have gone to prison for six years. They set bond conditions which included me not having any contact with opposing counsel of the firm. And I had to take my meds. I suffer from hypertension and ADD. Why they wanted me on amphetamines and bp meds is something that to this day escapes me. However, due to the fact that my own court appointed attorney had cases against this firm, the bond conditions would specifically prohibit me from communicating with my OWN COUNSEL!

It also would have prohibited me from seeking employment with other firms, and seeking representation from private attorneys. I got a second attorney (who is quite talented and surprised me - don't ever judge a book by it's cover - look at the track record and reputation when judging attorneys).

There were quite a few irregularities in the case which is the subject of a malicious prosecution and federal abuse of civil rights case which are being explored at the moment. Detail to follow in another post. (pretty scary shit considering that THIS IS AMERICA!)

I sat in jail for 299 days awaiting trial.

On my most recent birthday I was acquitted of all charges. The jury took an entire 45 minutes to reach their verdict.

In any other country if a gay son of a Jewish woman bastard of a president whose wife is a confirmed war criminal and escaped nazi were to be persecuted like this by his own government he would automatically be granted political asylum, even by this country. I am seriously considering this as an option as this may be the only way that my story will come to light, some very serious problems with America's dealings with former nazis will come out and dealt with accordingly.

A Freedom of Information Act request to obtain my secret service file happened to be in my desk when I was fired. My employer gave it to the DA and they tried to use it to attack my sanity. Oddly enough, it was never brought up at trial.

A grievance I had filed against another attorney for bouncing my paychecks and some act of reckless malpractice was also in my desk and they tried to use it as evidence that I was somehow a serial extortionist attacking innocent law firms to somehow extort them out of their hard earned money. Yeah.

I am convinced the DA on my case is Canadian. I don't know what she did to get run out of her own country but it must have beeeeen pretty bad. Maybe I'm wrong here but her English is has a very peculiar accent and I'd bet money I don't have it wasn't from the US.

So, I'm on food stamps, waiting for unemployment to kick in, trying to find a job and wondering if I ought to be calling foreign consulates and finding out if I actually qualify for political asylum. Ironic.

I have to think that if war criminal could escape their country and find a new home that it would be a bit easier for me to escape this shit.

By the way, the pictures still exist. They would have been released had I been convicted.

Friday, February 22, 2008

How do you know if your letter is from the doj?

The most disturbing part of the Mafia Pickonme episode is this: she and her cronies forged letters with Department of Justice letterhead and mailed everyone in my family letters stating that I was in the witness relocation program and that contact with me is dangerous for both them and myself. Knowing my family members are opportunistic, I will pay you handsomely for a copy of one of these letters. When I went home to visit my family asked me about this and I told the truth: That I had no idea what they were talking about. A couple of cousins called the DOJ and this was confirmed. I was told by M. Pickonme that "we can't have you running to your family when you're broke, we'd lose all control over you."

Sad, really.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Department Stores Favored by Nazis

Bloomingdales is from what I can gather an upscale department store. I am unsure if I've ever been in one. If I am going to spend too much for something, I'd go to Nordstrom's as they actually have things in my size. I had a button down from there that lasted over 10 years and it was my favorite shirt. The staff is wonderful and I've never gotten the least bit of attitude from any staff person regardless of how I may have appeared. Truly a class act.

Ronnie and Nancy were close friends with the Bloomingdales. Apparently they have a tradition of spending New Year's Eve with each other. They have done this for years.

The Bloomingdales also lent the Reagans money to purchase their home in Bel Air after they left office, or so I heard.

The Bloomingdales got wind of Mrs. Reagan's past. I am quite certain they have used their power, money, and privilege to protect her. It got back to the Bloomindales of the Reagan's ridiculous crusade to keep me from getting access to my money and become anything. When confronted Nancy said "We have principles. We can't stand for his behavior" or words to the same effect. Mrs. Bloomingdale replied "You're an escaped Nazi!"

This apparently caused a rift in the friendship. They made up and Nancy apparently attended traditional New Year's Eve festivities in one of her dated dresses from the '80s. Mrs. Bloomingdale apparently opened up her closet prior to the next party and asked Nancy if she wanted to borrow something to wear. I guess when you're poor and famous it is hard to keep up appearances.

If any of you read this I think you should boycott Bloomingdales Department store. I don't know if they own it or derive any of their substantial income and means from the store, but it might tarnish their image if somehow their name could be brought into the spotlight as the Nazi sympathizers that they are, I would be a very happy man.

I find it odd that they would expend such resources to help their "friends" while their needy friends went about their crusade to ruin my life.

Thank you very much Mrs. Bloomingdale. I can't wait to return the favor.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Mafia Pick On Me!

Back in 1999 a couple of traumatic things happened. I was in an elevator accident for one. This happened about 2 weeks after my Grandmother passed away. My Grandmother passing away is something that took me about 5 years to understand the magnitude of my loss.

The elevator accident took two years, several jobs, and two attorneys to solve.

One of the jobs was for another law firm. There was this awful and truly evil human being that worked there. According to her, she ran the world and was more powerful than Al Capone at the height of his reign. We'll call her M. Pickonme.

I interviewed for the job there and I have to admit the pay and benefits were rather competitive. I took the job. Mafia comes up to my desk, introduces herself and says "there is no way in hell I'm going to pay you (number omitted) I replied "the deal has already been made and I don't see your name on the door." She runs off in a huff. She then told me I had to pay "protection." Out of my salary. Fuck her.

On the day of my second payday her secretary comes to my desk and says "I'm collecting for Mafia." I reply "What is she, a UNICEF kid?" She says "Okay" and walks off scratching her head. My phone rings and it was Ms. Pickonme. She asked if I could come to her office. I told her I was in the middle of something and that I'd be there in a few.

I go to her office and she instructed me to close the door. She said "you know what I want" and I said "Oh, alright and start to undo my belt and take off my pants." If I could have caught a picture of her expression--anyway she starts screaming, I reply there is no way in hell I'm paying protection money to a bitch. She screams "I'm gonna kill you!" to which I reply "Blow it out your ass!."

The funniest thing about my dealings with Mafia Pikconme is that when I first met her she was wearing a red tailored suit. The first thing that went through my mind was "I didn't realize that Lucifer was a female attorney in a red suit practicing law on Seventeenth Street." I am still not convinced this isn't the case.

I was told that my life was in danger. With the life that I've had, that is the only way I know I'm alive. A lot of different people came out of the wood work to "warn me" that she could have me killed. Rumor has it that back in the day they used to kill people for fun. Her legal secretaries that didn't "work out" had a bad habit of dying.

Mafia had the most annoying habit of monitoring the staff's coffee consumption. She didn't think that she should have to supply employees with coffee. She was that petty. I was drinking something from Starbucks once and she came up to me to my desk and said "How do I know you're not putting firm coffee in your cup?" I said "Gee, I guess you don't but I'm just curious, to whom are you billing the coffee policing to?" She growled and stormed off.

A week later I was told I had to take some boxes to the freight elevator (they were empty). I have helpful nature and I still find myself charmed into doing just about anything a woman asks me. Something about fear of breaking a nail was mentioned. I take the boxes to the elevator where two copy jockeys were waiting for me. Copy Jockey #1 looks at me and says "Sorry Bill, I really don't want to do this." I say "Oh, dude, Oh I know what this is about. The guy you want is a real scum bag! Really. Let me go get him. It might take a minute." (To his defense, I don't think he wanted to kill me.) I went back to the women who sent me to be rid of the boxes and I said "there are two men in the freight lobby and they're pissed and want to talk to you." They go. I follow discretely and positioned myself where I could hear undetected. Words were exchanged. Something like "how hard is it to kill him?" Marsha arrived a few minutes later and said "I don't care WHO it is but I want you to kill the next person who comes here regardless." I wait about 30 minutes, go to Ms. Pickonme's office and said "there are two men in the freight lobby and they are insisting that you go speak with them." She asks that I follow. We arrive. She before me. Their eyes were - well, they'd been had. She looks and me and says "sorry, but you have to go, (to them) KILL him!" I said "I'm sorry too and I've called 911 and the authorities should be on their way."

Shortly before it closed, the whole firm went out to lunch. I had just ordered when someone at the table hands me a cell phone (I have learnded by now that when someone hands me their cell phone, I should just run screaming). No hello, no greeting just "I cannot believe you are eating MY food." I said nothing. What could I say to this. It was the FIRM who was paying for lunch, and even if she were paying for it wasn't hers. She continued "Who the hell do you think you are? I was told I can't come anywerhe near you and you work form me." I said "Seek help. Are you off of your meds? Have they recently been changed?" The phone was ripped out of my hand. Way too many control freaks with cell phones in my life.

The firm closed after this.

She lied to her new firm (I'm doing someone a favor by not mentioning them specifically) and told her that I had worked for her for a year or so (I didn't). That's right, I ended up working for Ms. Mafia again. She hit me up for protection money again. I was also told that I had to start buying cheaper cuts of meat, that she could already tell she was going to have a problem brining what I spent on groceries under control. I had mentioned something about a new news show and I was admonished for not watching the correct network. That's right she wanted to control what I ate, how much coffee I drank, how I dressed and which news station I watched. 7 years later and I still can't believe I heard this.

The most disturbing part of this is she and her cronies forged letters with Department of Justice letterhead and mailed everyone in my family letters stating that I was in the witness relocation program and that contact with me is dangerous for both them and myself. Knowing my family members are opportunistic, I will pay you handsomely for a copy of one of these letters. When I went home to visit my family asked me about this and I told the truth: That I had no idea what they were talking about. A couple of cousins called the DOJ and this was confirmed.

I was told by M. Pickonme that "we can't have you running to your family when you have a problem with us, we'd lose all control over you." I was also told that I could kiss my inerhitence goodbye. Fuck you!

Many other things happened in the three or four months or so that I worked for her. I spilled the story and, believe it or not, the bitch went on to become a JUDGE (albeit for about a year and a half, it seems she keeps jobs as long as I do.)

I market myself as having worked for Ms. Mafia Pickonme and lived! I hate the fact that she, some bitch with a vowel at the end of her name thinks they can kill whomever they want on a whim and when exposed, they are given a black robe and a gavel. How much money did you save my keeping your employees from drinking the cofee, Ms. Mafia? Huh? We really want to know.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Jodi Foster, John Hinkley, Carson Junior High School, and Agent Orange

I remember the day that Reagan was shot vividly.

It was in the afternoon that the news had spread throughout Carson Junior High School in Mesa, Arizona. I was living with Grandpa Phil's son and his wife. (I will never understand how that came to be). I was in 7th grade.

I walked in to what must have been 5th or 6th period and everyone was talking about Reagan having been shot. I snapped and no sooner had I gained composure when two men in suits cam into the room, escorted me out of the building and to the administration building and office where I was kept in an interior office until late in the evening.

I was not treated particularly well but I can't now recall any of the details with any specificity. I do remember some jackass making it clear that despite all the hubbub I wasn't "important" and my requests for something to drink were met with disdain.

I have always believed that Hinkley was on to something and that Jodi Foster is somehow part of our illustrious family, if only biologically.

I later ended up going to high school with a couple of members of JFA (a skate punk band) and it stands for Jodi Foster's Army. I was quite careful never to mention anything about Jodi in high school as I knew for me and many others it is a one-way ticket to being forever viewed as a lunatic.

However, listening to and knowing JFA the band got me into punk rock. I can't say I was a punker and probably couldn't even have cut it as a poser. As close as I got was the night I stole Grandpa Phil's car, put on my died-by-myself-orange levis and other thrift store attire and drove to Madison Square Garden in Phoenix, AZ. It was on Van Buren Street-the infamous street in Phoenix where hookers, pimps, drug dealers and "others" strut their stuff. Madison Square Garden was an amateur wrestling arena with the cage in the center. The bands would play inside. When Agent Orange saw me in orange levis, I was invited into the pit. I was quite drunk from the 75 cent beer sold from a keg. Oh, and I was 15. Yeah. The last time I saw the physical building it had been remodeled into a flower shop.

The rest is a blur but I do remember secret service threatening to burn the place down when I gained consciousness in the parking lot outside the building. Don't ask me what happened in the mean time for I don't know and I don't want to know.

It seems that Punk Rock and Reaganomics don't mix.

(Agent Orange is still one of my favorite bands).