A man who has worked for my father for some twenty years was arrested for a murder and is now in prison, awaiting trial. Although I would love to tell you what a wonderful person he is I cannot ask to judge his character or deeds- the event took place long long ago (whether it involved him or not) and any remarks about him or his character would be speculative.
However- it was known to the police he is a diabetic; they used this to their advantage and while nearly out of his mind he was coerced into signing a confession. As he has a job and a little equity (his house) he does not qualify for free legal aid- but he has nowhere near enough to retain an attorney, and moreover he has not been given his medication since arrested.
Further details as they develop.
Friday, December 31, 2004
oh dear ole compy
I don't think you have the guts to play my dvd's.... you chop like an osterizer, you sound terrible.. geez. anyone out there wanna buy me some ram?
Monday, December 27, 2004
Wasted away by Real Estate
Oh, I call on my memories of childhood.
Why did you teach me to spell oh teachers? Why then also to count?
Dear Mr. Stamoolis, You taught my brethren and I to type, but no, not to avail myself.. only to frustrate, compounded with anxiety and horrible anger and negativity.
I hate you real estate agents. I hate you so very much I seethe, I literally glow with the hellborne fury that is my venom written on your faces and wallets and papers and clawed furiously into my heart. There is nothing but shame and sorrow for what you represent: the American people.
Is it bad enough you cannot communicate in standard english. Why should I care? We know what you say so the language has done its job– still I care– I ask again why? Because of your flagrant disregard for it. Because you use it like a penguin swinging a jackhammer, or a politician holding a rocket launcher.
Why is it not against the law to call Coney Island 'Prospect Park Area'? What's the zip code? The only number you know ends in "percent." Will a car service be able to find it?Why is there no lawful enforcing body whose job it is to but these miscreants out of business and make them professional pooperscoopers instead of high-priced morons? My friends these are the bluebloods of america- the trust funders, the silent upper middle class which never goes to work on time and never does the job right.
It is bad enough you are lighter in substance than the smallest snowflake, flakier than the skin that rubs off from every glancing rub. I cannot abide, I cannot bear your upfront connivery, your smelly, greasy, slimy ways with your teeth smiling out of your faces as the twelve minutes I spend with you ticks away... you don't like me... you don't HAVE to like me. Get over it. This is not a personal relationship and I'm not going to coddle your twat or pat you on the ass and compliment your nice suit, your expensive car. A seller's market! A seller's market! I've had enough of this seller's market. Just because something is in demand does not mean that everything is worthwhile. I hate you and your cockroach underbellied moldy treesap beetle-infested sandblasted acid eaten rusty faces with your crap spelled out for me right in your eyes. I can tell what you mean. You're not actors.
You can't meet me at the right time, if you decide to show up at all- how many times have you not even bothered to go? And how long would I last at my job with that attitude, you stuck-up obnoxious pompous slice of wood. I hate you.
You can't give me a reciept for my deposit? You don't know how many square feet it is? No? Can I fit a bed in there? Yes? Don't you think these are things you should know? Why is asking about the noise or the condition of the boiler, the water pressure or the neighborhood tantamount to kicking myself out of the running? Why should I trust a stranger? If you don't trust me then why should I trust you?
Show me a third floor shanty with one outlet located in a prime area, and sell it for six dollars a square foot with 15% of a year's rent up front. Show me a building that reeks so badly of human and animal waste that purging it in fire would not eliminate the smell. Prey on my nightmares of homelessness and poverty, of worthlessness and crime. Lure me with cozy soft words of fantasy, of warmth and peace and comfort. Entice me with it and bring me into the pits. Bring me beyond the abysmal and the decrepit. You are slowly wearing me down and I hate you. You are killing me and I hate you. You are making me into you and yes... I hate you.
Show me an honest competent professional real estate broker and I'll show you a lie.
I see you.
Why did you teach me to spell oh teachers? Why then also to count?
Dear Mr. Stamoolis, You taught my brethren and I to type, but no, not to avail myself.. only to frustrate, compounded with anxiety and horrible anger and negativity.
I hate you real estate agents. I hate you so very much I seethe, I literally glow with the hellborne fury that is my venom written on your faces and wallets and papers and clawed furiously into my heart. There is nothing but shame and sorrow for what you represent: the American people.
Is it bad enough you cannot communicate in standard english. Why should I care? We know what you say so the language has done its job– still I care– I ask again why? Because of your flagrant disregard for it. Because you use it like a penguin swinging a jackhammer, or a politician holding a rocket launcher.
Why is it not against the law to call Coney Island 'Prospect Park Area'? What's the zip code? The only number you know ends in "percent." Will a car service be able to find it?Why is there no lawful enforcing body whose job it is to but these miscreants out of business and make them professional pooperscoopers instead of high-priced morons? My friends these are the bluebloods of america- the trust funders, the silent upper middle class which never goes to work on time and never does the job right.
It is bad enough you are lighter in substance than the smallest snowflake, flakier than the skin that rubs off from every glancing rub. I cannot abide, I cannot bear your upfront connivery, your smelly, greasy, slimy ways with your teeth smiling out of your faces as the twelve minutes I spend with you ticks away... you don't like me... you don't HAVE to like me. Get over it. This is not a personal relationship and I'm not going to coddle your twat or pat you on the ass and compliment your nice suit, your expensive car. A seller's market! A seller's market! I've had enough of this seller's market. Just because something is in demand does not mean that everything is worthwhile. I hate you and your cockroach underbellied moldy treesap beetle-infested sandblasted acid eaten rusty faces with your crap spelled out for me right in your eyes. I can tell what you mean. You're not actors.
You can't meet me at the right time, if you decide to show up at all- how many times have you not even bothered to go? And how long would I last at my job with that attitude, you stuck-up obnoxious pompous slice of wood. I hate you.
You can't give me a reciept for my deposit? You don't know how many square feet it is? No? Can I fit a bed in there? Yes? Don't you think these are things you should know? Why is asking about the noise or the condition of the boiler, the water pressure or the neighborhood tantamount to kicking myself out of the running? Why should I trust a stranger? If you don't trust me then why should I trust you?
Show me a third floor shanty with one outlet located in a prime area, and sell it for six dollars a square foot with 15% of a year's rent up front. Show me a building that reeks so badly of human and animal waste that purging it in fire would not eliminate the smell. Prey on my nightmares of homelessness and poverty, of worthlessness and crime. Lure me with cozy soft words of fantasy, of warmth and peace and comfort. Entice me with it and bring me into the pits. Bring me beyond the abysmal and the decrepit. You are slowly wearing me down and I hate you. You are killing me and I hate you. You are making me into you and yes... I hate you.
Show me an honest competent professional real estate broker and I'll show you a lie.
I see you.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
TSUNAMI!!!
My dad is in india right now... and I have no idea where; I imagine somewhere not on the coast. You'd think the fool would call or wire or email or something. The last time he went there was this huge train wreck, too... I think he's just not getting the hint.
ah, geez.
Horrible. terrible. terrifying.
okay not talking about the tsunami anymore. not even a little.
sorry folks, if you want to read about that, just click on next blog. go somewhere else.
click it if you like shatner, folks
I feel like a cold is coming down the pipe... or something. the nasal fountain is on, folks. please don't climb on the mucus, you'll only wear away the walls of the sinus and promote-- ah, what's that word.. ex-lit majors shouldn't have this problem.. when the water eats the land away and attributes to greenhouse effects, continental drift.. ah- ah ah-- EROSION! all right!
well... I have mixed feelings about remembering erosion.
Okay, putting down the rubiks cube for awhile (I just play around with getting the 2nd layer solved, really) and focusing on today. What's today? Sunday! Reading napping cooking cleaning day! I got a whole bunch handled friday.. let's hear it for the day off!
today's books are: one, two, today's times, the entire Adobe CIB series... uh.. maybe this is more than I can chew today.... okay, let's see what happens! come on, caffiene! come on, brain!
on the cd player is bioritmo-- although I'm not really into salsa, these folks have some great grooves happening! Okay, let's git it own! Rat own, rat own!
Dance the day away, because trouble is half a world away and worrying never helped anyone, no never helped the help to come, so bounce off the WALL OF ROTTEN VIBES and roll back in the other direction. Change your tune but not your song.
Bring it!
ah, geez.
Horrible. terrible. terrifying.
okay not talking about the tsunami anymore. not even a little.
sorry folks, if you want to read about that, just click on next blog. go somewhere else.
click it if you like shatner, folks
I feel like a cold is coming down the pipe... or something. the nasal fountain is on, folks. please don't climb on the mucus, you'll only wear away the walls of the sinus and promote-- ah, what's that word.. ex-lit majors shouldn't have this problem.. when the water eats the land away and attributes to greenhouse effects, continental drift.. ah- ah ah-- EROSION! all right!
well... I have mixed feelings about remembering erosion.
Okay, putting down the rubiks cube for awhile (I just play around with getting the 2nd layer solved, really) and focusing on today. What's today? Sunday! Reading napping cooking cleaning day! I got a whole bunch handled friday.. let's hear it for the day off!
today's books are: one, two, today's times, the entire Adobe CIB series... uh.. maybe this is more than I can chew today.... okay, let's see what happens! come on, caffiene! come on, brain!
on the cd player is bioritmo-- although I'm not really into salsa, these folks have some great grooves happening! Okay, let's git it own! Rat own, rat own!
Dance the day away, because trouble is half a world away and worrying never helped anyone, no never helped the help to come, so bounce off the WALL OF ROTTEN VIBES and roll back in the other direction. Change your tune but not your song.
Bring it!
Friday, December 24, 2004
wish list
we wish you a merry wish list,we wish you a merry wish list,we wish you a merry wish list...
it's cold in here. I've been having trouble typing effectively, and I keep smelling cat pee somewhere, but I can't find it. does this happen to everyone who owns a cat? I've had cats all my life and I don't remember this ever happening before... just random urine patches around the house...? I wonder what I did to (npi) piss them off?
wish I'd made some holoday plans (nice typo.. what else? holaday, haloday, joliday...) so now I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs... well, there's always my favorite pastime, "let's get organized," aka straighten this dump up. On that note, do you think more people make their beds or leave a mess of covers? I usually don't bother, but I notice I sometimes have to fix the bedspread when I'm going to sleep, so I guess it would be the prudent move... too bad I'm not all that prudent.
it's cold in here. I've been having trouble typing effectively, and I keep smelling cat pee somewhere, but I can't find it. does this happen to everyone who owns a cat? I've had cats all my life and I don't remember this ever happening before... just random urine patches around the house...? I wonder what I did to (npi) piss them off?
wish I'd made some holoday plans (nice typo.. what else? holaday, haloday, joliday...) so now I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs... well, there's always my favorite pastime, "let's get organized," aka straighten this dump up. On that note, do you think more people make their beds or leave a mess of covers? I usually don't bother, but I notice I sometimes have to fix the bedspread when I'm going to sleep, so I guess it would be the prudent move... too bad I'm not all that prudent.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
feelin kinda uh?
I was just thinking about that self-hypnosis we all try to do first or last moment of the day--
"when I get up tomorrow, I'm going to get X done, and more importantly, I'm going to finish by 9:30, so I can wake up even earlier tomorrow and do X+Y!!!!"
heh. Isn't it fun to kid yourself like that?
jeez I just read this book about how I'm supposed to be positive all the time, and how negativity is going to shorten my lifespan and give me diseases and like that? What a crock. I'm tired of being depressed and moody and angry all the time sure, and I know nobody wants to hear about how I get nothing done and can't get it together and how I'm always upset about it,[ even though there are only signposts, comparisons-- I don't really exist, I know it] but it's really frustrating when I read about this crap. here's how you're supposed to feel and think and act! talk about invalidating one's opinion. now my anger is being demonized. fucking society.
"when I get up tomorrow, I'm going to get X done, and more importantly, I'm going to finish by 9:30, so I can wake up even earlier tomorrow and do X+Y!!!!"
heh. Isn't it fun to kid yourself like that?
jeez I just read this book about how I'm supposed to be positive all the time, and how negativity is going to shorten my lifespan and give me diseases and like that? What a crock. I'm tired of being depressed and moody and angry all the time sure, and I know nobody wants to hear about how I get nothing done and can't get it together and how I'm always upset about it,[ even though there are only signposts, comparisons-- I don't really exist, I know it] but it's really frustrating when I read about this crap. here's how you're supposed to feel and think and act! talk about invalidating one's opinion. now my anger is being demonized. fucking society.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)