It probably says a lot about the life I lead, that waking up in the backseat of a car with a blanket thrown over my head has become such a common thing that I barely register it as a sign of possible trouble. More like a necessity to the sort of person who likes to shake up the world a bit.
I tugged the corner down and noticed that I wasn't in the Aston. That was odd.
"Okay who are you fiends and where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Relax we're just doing our best to be across the border before the state police come looking for you." Jon said from the drivers seat.
"Why would the State Police be after me. I swear I wasn't even in this state 9 months ago!!" I said trying to rack my brain for some memory of the last day.
"Well it could be a small matter of the riot that broke out when your story came out." Kat said. "They're burning down the Governors mansion as we speak. We're pretty sure his wife and kids got out but no ones seen the Governor."
"Bastard is probably gonna use this as cover to flee the country." I replied sitting up.
"Will you kindly get the fuck down!" Kat hissed to me. "Right now the police are going to see if they can get you for inciting the riot."
"Was I present when the riot began?"
"For the record I will never give you that many of those pills again." Jon said.
"Stop play amateur pharmacologist and answer the question." I shot back.
"No, you weren't present, but after the interview on CNN, people decided to go sort out the guy in charge." Kat said. "Once you broke the story the local press grew a collective spine and all manner of things we didn't know about began creeping up."
"Oh all that lovely blackmail material editors like so much." I said. I felt a buzzing in my jacket pocket. I had a feeling I knew who it was.
Reaching in I grabbed my phone and held it six inches from my ear. "Hello?" I asked.
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Shelby asked in her usual opening tone.
"At a guess I'd say a hopefully short distance from the state line." I replied.
"Well drive faster, you're the states public enemy number one and that bastard of a governor just popped his head up from a command shelter demanding your arrest." She said.
"Oh good did he see his shadow? Because if he didn't that means an early.."
"Shut... the... fuck... UP!!" Shelby responded. "I sent you to cover a story, not to arrange for the collapse of a government."
"Well that, in this business, is what we call a nice added bonus." I replied. "Speaking of which I put the column online have you fucking paid me?"
"Yes, with a nice bonus to cover your legal fees, the article is at ten million hits and growing. Now get your ass the fuck out of that state." She hung up on me.
"How long till we're far away from this lunatic piece of prairie disaster?" I asked.
"Two hours." Jon said.
"Plenty of time for me to catch up on what happened, hand me my tablet."
Looking at it I saw I had lost two whole days.
Shit.
"What happened to Cole?" I asked.
"He's still alive. When the article broke the feds jumped in and put every death penalty case under review." Kat said.
Mission accomplished. Now. How had I done this?
"All right I require..."
I hadn't even got close to finishing the sentence when Kat handed me a bottle of Bushmills. Best assistants in the world I tell ya.
I took a swig and began reviewing the last two days.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Friday, September 26, 2014
Midnight at the Double Douche art 14
I returned at roughly the same time as Jon and Kat. Both of them were smiling as I walked in. Meanwhile I was doing my best to avoid feeling like I had canary feathers in my mouth.
"So where do you want me to begin?" Jon said. "He's neck deep in the religious right, but the ongoing rumour is he's got a mistress or three on a string. He's been running serious anti drug legislation through the local legislature but his holding company is under writing several pot farms in Colorado."
I looked at Kat. "It just get's better. He's selling his companies share in a port and warehousing company to a sovereign capital fund owned by a foreign nation. Throw in that he appointed the regulators who are approving the deal and we have some really great conflict of interest issues." She smiled wider. "On top of that I have a former sheriff who is closing out the end of his life with pancreatic cancer who swears that the governor got him to plant dope on a rival in an early election for city council."
"Can you get him to give his name and comment on tape?" I asked.
Kat held up her phone. "Got it, with it backed up in three cloud locations."
"Remind me to look into that raise. For both of you."
"It's coming from petty cash again isn't it?" Jon asked with a smirk.
"Yeah but it's two cents more an hour than you got last week so be grateful." I grinned. "I was not idle either and we might have capper for all this." I smiled as I explained the details of the land deal and it's complete lack of anything actually being sold.
"So how did they handle the initial payouts on the security?" Jon asked.
"My guess is that the bank that issued it probably took money from the holding company then paid it back to the investors just long enough to make it look genuine. Then when all the instruments tanked around it they stopped making payments said it was a toxic asset and asked for their insurance money." I replied.
"Damn who do we talk to first about that?" Kat asked.
"I think it's a foot race between the FBI, Secret Service and SEC." Jon said.
"Secret Service?" Kat asked.
"They're a branch of the treasury department and technically speaking what they did was wire fraud, bonus points if the IRS decides to look into the deal and see what taxes weren't collected." I replied.
"I think we might own him." Kat said.
"We might just, but we need to play this right or it all falls apart. If we time it right we might keep some people from the end of a rope." Jon said.
"No time like the present then, here's what I have in mind."
"So where do you want me to begin?" Jon said. "He's neck deep in the religious right, but the ongoing rumour is he's got a mistress or three on a string. He's been running serious anti drug legislation through the local legislature but his holding company is under writing several pot farms in Colorado."
I looked at Kat. "It just get's better. He's selling his companies share in a port and warehousing company to a sovereign capital fund owned by a foreign nation. Throw in that he appointed the regulators who are approving the deal and we have some really great conflict of interest issues." She smiled wider. "On top of that I have a former sheriff who is closing out the end of his life with pancreatic cancer who swears that the governor got him to plant dope on a rival in an early election for city council."
"Can you get him to give his name and comment on tape?" I asked.
Kat held up her phone. "Got it, with it backed up in three cloud locations."
"Remind me to look into that raise. For both of you."
"It's coming from petty cash again isn't it?" Jon asked with a smirk.
"Yeah but it's two cents more an hour than you got last week so be grateful." I grinned. "I was not idle either and we might have capper for all this." I smiled as I explained the details of the land deal and it's complete lack of anything actually being sold.
"So how did they handle the initial payouts on the security?" Jon asked.
"My guess is that the bank that issued it probably took money from the holding company then paid it back to the investors just long enough to make it look genuine. Then when all the instruments tanked around it they stopped making payments said it was a toxic asset and asked for their insurance money." I replied.
"Damn who do we talk to first about that?" Kat asked.
"I think it's a foot race between the FBI, Secret Service and SEC." Jon said.
"Secret Service?" Kat asked.
"They're a branch of the treasury department and technically speaking what they did was wire fraud, bonus points if the IRS decides to look into the deal and see what taxes weren't collected." I replied.
"I think we might own him." Kat said.
"We might just, but we need to play this right or it all falls apart. If we time it right we might keep some people from the end of a rope." Jon said.
"No time like the present then, here's what I have in mind."
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Midnight at the Double Douche part 13
In a situation like this, sleep is for the weak. We had work to do. So I stopped at local shop, bought an espresso machine. Got it up to speed, dropped in four capsules of some substance Jon swore was like high powered adrenalin with a long standing kick. Washed it all down with three fingers of Bushmills and went to work.
As Jon and Kat did the foot work I opened a google search in my room. The governor was a wealthy man. The question was which bank did he rob to get his money?
Well the initial short answer was his dads. His father had built a business in manufacturing parts for car makers. It had taken off when Japan had opened plants in the US. As the company reached it's apex Dad had the good sense to die of a heart attack in a hotel with a woman who was certainly not his wife and who apparently got charitable donations for her time spent helping men to relax after hours. Not that I saw anything wrong with that, we all have our ways of dealing with stress and compared to his sons activities this was fairly mild and normal.
Junior had decided to sell off the company the first chance he got. Which made him a small mint, he then invested that mint in various schemes that were gift wrapped to him by his dads old cronies. Real estate, commodities speculation, the burgeoning Native American casino market. All of these had yielded him large dollars in returns.
When he turned his eye to politics the same cronies ponied up massive amounts of cash to help his campaign, as he was clearly their kind of guy.
This was interesting. His holding company made money in 2008.
Taking a deep sip of whiskey I read his companies prospectus. 2008 had been a banner year for the company. While the whole economy tanked they managed to make over %500 in profits from investments in real estate.
This made no sense at all. Unless...
Allow me to take a moment to explain to you the classic scam that created the disaster of 2008. Don't worry it's just as surreal as anything else that will take place in this whole story.
By 2005 banks were working overtime to write loans for anyone who wanted to buy a house. Now prior to the 90's if you wanted a mortgage a bank frisked you pretty good to make sure you could pony up the money.
But then some genius had the idea that if you took a whole bunch of mortgages and bundled them together as a security you had the best of both worlds. First you sold off the mortgages which earned you quick short term money, while pocketing even more short term cash from the fees you would collect for doing the bundling and maintaining the mortgages you didn't own.
Investors would collect the combined house payments of thousands of people and make their money back. If they made the payments.
Of course in the process of writing all this paper banks got desperate for short term cash so they hunted down anyone with a pulse to give them a mortgage. Toward the end there the people they had got to sign on the dotted line were given mortgages that were effectively time bombs. Linked to their ability to pay which would get trashed the first time interest rates rose.
Now to cover themselves the investors and banks would buy forms of investment insurance. The infamous CDO's and CDS's. Which basically was buying a policy to insure the worth of the investment if it tanked. Which a lot of these were designed to do.
Now why would someone decide to make an investment designed specifically to tank? Glad ya asked.
That form of investment insurance was unregulated. So it was entirely possible dare I say likely that someone could read that the investment they bought was a ticking time bomb so they'd buy paper to protect it.
Except that due to the lack of regulation they wouldn't buy one piece of paper, they'd buy multiple pieces of paper on a security. Insuring it for massive amounts above its actual worth. And as there was no rule saying you couldn't you could buy these instruments for investments you don't even own.
So let's make a comparison. How safe would you feel knowing ten people have bought multiple pieces of life insurance on you? Yeah? Not very? Good then you have an ounce of sense.
Meanwhile the people who sold the CDO's weren't obligated to set any of the money they made aside to cover any of the bets they were making. So in 2008 when this whole house of cards imploded they had no cash to pay back the losses they had been asked to insure against. Which caused the nightmare of September.
Now it seemed to me like the governor had cleaned up in this market. Especially on one investment for a whole neighborhood his company had built up two years before. Five square miles of housing in...
I read the address and looked it up on google street view.
There was nothing there. It was a big wide empty plain of deserted field.
Reaching over I grabbed the phone and called a cab as my two trusty help mates were out, and frankly as wired and drunk as I was being behind the wheel of a car struck me as being a series of disasters waiting to happen.
Which to be honest was my life in a nutshell.
The cab was waiting for me at the lobby and we drove off to the outskirts of town.
"Why ya wanna go out there?" the Cabbie asked.
"I'm looking into a land investment." I said.
"Shit aint not much there, not since they moved the chemical plant." The driver said.
"Really? when did they do that?"
"Bout twenty years ago, they had the property but couldn't move it because of all the toxic shit left over." He said.
We pulled up by the address we were given and I stepped out.
It was barren expanse of land with pieces of scrub grass, tumbleweeds and a stray cat chasing a squirrel. Not a single house to be found.
"So whatcha gonna do with the land?" The driver asked as I got back in.
"Use it for a burial plot."
"Seems like that might be all it's good for." The driver said.
"Oh you have no idea." I said, then sat back and smiled.
As Jon and Kat did the foot work I opened a google search in my room. The governor was a wealthy man. The question was which bank did he rob to get his money?
Well the initial short answer was his dads. His father had built a business in manufacturing parts for car makers. It had taken off when Japan had opened plants in the US. As the company reached it's apex Dad had the good sense to die of a heart attack in a hotel with a woman who was certainly not his wife and who apparently got charitable donations for her time spent helping men to relax after hours. Not that I saw anything wrong with that, we all have our ways of dealing with stress and compared to his sons activities this was fairly mild and normal.
Junior had decided to sell off the company the first chance he got. Which made him a small mint, he then invested that mint in various schemes that were gift wrapped to him by his dads old cronies. Real estate, commodities speculation, the burgeoning Native American casino market. All of these had yielded him large dollars in returns.
When he turned his eye to politics the same cronies ponied up massive amounts of cash to help his campaign, as he was clearly their kind of guy.
This was interesting. His holding company made money in 2008.
Taking a deep sip of whiskey I read his companies prospectus. 2008 had been a banner year for the company. While the whole economy tanked they managed to make over %500 in profits from investments in real estate.
This made no sense at all. Unless...
Allow me to take a moment to explain to you the classic scam that created the disaster of 2008. Don't worry it's just as surreal as anything else that will take place in this whole story.
By 2005 banks were working overtime to write loans for anyone who wanted to buy a house. Now prior to the 90's if you wanted a mortgage a bank frisked you pretty good to make sure you could pony up the money.
But then some genius had the idea that if you took a whole bunch of mortgages and bundled them together as a security you had the best of both worlds. First you sold off the mortgages which earned you quick short term money, while pocketing even more short term cash from the fees you would collect for doing the bundling and maintaining the mortgages you didn't own.
Investors would collect the combined house payments of thousands of people and make their money back. If they made the payments.
Of course in the process of writing all this paper banks got desperate for short term cash so they hunted down anyone with a pulse to give them a mortgage. Toward the end there the people they had got to sign on the dotted line were given mortgages that were effectively time bombs. Linked to their ability to pay which would get trashed the first time interest rates rose.
Now to cover themselves the investors and banks would buy forms of investment insurance. The infamous CDO's and CDS's. Which basically was buying a policy to insure the worth of the investment if it tanked. Which a lot of these were designed to do.
Now why would someone decide to make an investment designed specifically to tank? Glad ya asked.
That form of investment insurance was unregulated. So it was entirely possible dare I say likely that someone could read that the investment they bought was a ticking time bomb so they'd buy paper to protect it.
Except that due to the lack of regulation they wouldn't buy one piece of paper, they'd buy multiple pieces of paper on a security. Insuring it for massive amounts above its actual worth. And as there was no rule saying you couldn't you could buy these instruments for investments you don't even own.
So let's make a comparison. How safe would you feel knowing ten people have bought multiple pieces of life insurance on you? Yeah? Not very? Good then you have an ounce of sense.
Meanwhile the people who sold the CDO's weren't obligated to set any of the money they made aside to cover any of the bets they were making. So in 2008 when this whole house of cards imploded they had no cash to pay back the losses they had been asked to insure against. Which caused the nightmare of September.
Now it seemed to me like the governor had cleaned up in this market. Especially on one investment for a whole neighborhood his company had built up two years before. Five square miles of housing in...
I read the address and looked it up on google street view.
There was nothing there. It was a big wide empty plain of deserted field.
Reaching over I grabbed the phone and called a cab as my two trusty help mates were out, and frankly as wired and drunk as I was being behind the wheel of a car struck me as being a series of disasters waiting to happen.
Which to be honest was my life in a nutshell.
The cab was waiting for me at the lobby and we drove off to the outskirts of town.
"Why ya wanna go out there?" the Cabbie asked.
"I'm looking into a land investment." I said.
"Shit aint not much there, not since they moved the chemical plant." The driver said.
"Really? when did they do that?"
"Bout twenty years ago, they had the property but couldn't move it because of all the toxic shit left over." He said.
We pulled up by the address we were given and I stepped out.
It was barren expanse of land with pieces of scrub grass, tumbleweeds and a stray cat chasing a squirrel. Not a single house to be found.
"So whatcha gonna do with the land?" The driver asked as I got back in.
"Use it for a burial plot."
"Seems like that might be all it's good for." The driver said.
"Oh you have no idea." I said, then sat back and smiled.
So before I return to the story
So every now and then I get reminded of this story
Judge gets sentenced to 28 years for selling kids to a prison.
And it makes me want to walk down the street screaming. "I hate you all, you are all fucking killing me!!!" As I punch out random passerby till I am eventually hauled to ground and forcibly sedated.
That is by no means an exaggeration.
We have a system of private incarceration in this country that encouraged a judge to sentence children to periods of time in jail that had no relation to the crime they committed at all. So that way the prison could up it's profit margin and get a higher quarterly earnings report. Meanwhile these children had their lives up ended and their potential ruined.
Yeah for a few thousand dollars each of these kids got sent up to line the pockets of corporate overlords and a judge who could have given a shit about them as people.
Well folks, welcome to the future. We are selling off the things that really matter and creating a state where in the law is important only in as much as it can be amended to serve those who have the money to get around. And to fist fuck those who are too poor to hire good representation or lobbyists.
It needs to change. We all know it, we all see it and no one can figure out how it can happen.
First off lets stop ignoring corruption as the way things are and always have been. If we want a better society then we need to insist that those who hold positions of responsibilities do actually live to a higher standard. I could give a damn if they smoke weed or have sex with someone they are not married to, what I do want to know is do they actually follow through on what they say they will do? If the answer is yes then please do so and I will give you my vote and support.
Second lets fire the democrats and republicans, lets make the libertarian party and the green party the recipients of our votes. Sure they might get bought and likely will but in the interim before they do we might actually see something positive happen.
Third. Look deeper past the corporate media. If you want real information it requires effort. But that effort pays off when you find the market for actual news. If you want real news on the world and America here are some sources.
Raw news, raw feeds Indymedia
The economist
The Guardian. Left leaning but good investigative pieces
and of course
some things never go out of style
Take some time, inform yourself. Take control of your own life.
Mean while I'm gonna go punching people out for a bit.
Judge gets sentenced to 28 years for selling kids to a prison.
And it makes me want to walk down the street screaming. "I hate you all, you are all fucking killing me!!!" As I punch out random passerby till I am eventually hauled to ground and forcibly sedated.
That is by no means an exaggeration.
We have a system of private incarceration in this country that encouraged a judge to sentence children to periods of time in jail that had no relation to the crime they committed at all. So that way the prison could up it's profit margin and get a higher quarterly earnings report. Meanwhile these children had their lives up ended and their potential ruined.
Yeah for a few thousand dollars each of these kids got sent up to line the pockets of corporate overlords and a judge who could have given a shit about them as people.
Well folks, welcome to the future. We are selling off the things that really matter and creating a state where in the law is important only in as much as it can be amended to serve those who have the money to get around. And to fist fuck those who are too poor to hire good representation or lobbyists.
It needs to change. We all know it, we all see it and no one can figure out how it can happen.
First off lets stop ignoring corruption as the way things are and always have been. If we want a better society then we need to insist that those who hold positions of responsibilities do actually live to a higher standard. I could give a damn if they smoke weed or have sex with someone they are not married to, what I do want to know is do they actually follow through on what they say they will do? If the answer is yes then please do so and I will give you my vote and support.
Second lets fire the democrats and republicans, lets make the libertarian party and the green party the recipients of our votes. Sure they might get bought and likely will but in the interim before they do we might actually see something positive happen.
Third. Look deeper past the corporate media. If you want real information it requires effort. But that effort pays off when you find the market for actual news. If you want real news on the world and America here are some sources.
Raw news, raw feeds Indymedia
The economist
The Guardian. Left leaning but good investigative pieces
and of course
some things never go out of style
Take some time, inform yourself. Take control of your own life.
Mean while I'm gonna go punching people out for a bit.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Birthdays and good people
Why yes I am working on my birthday. Such is life, as I got a rare Saturday off. Which was spent in the company of great and amazing people Who don't seem to mind drunk Dave so much. Their generosity of spirit is amazing!!
Thinking back on my life as it is, I think I learned a lot on the fine art of being social from my parents. If they worked at a place you could just assume they would be a social center of their group. I lose track of all the times their would be people over for BBQ's dinner, hanging out, playing cards etc. Their formula was simple. Create the environment bring the right people and the good time will follow.
So I tend to stick with a formula that works. I love entertaining or just coming up with excuses for people to gather. I don't need to be the center. More often than not it's just a lot of fun to see all these amazing folks that fate has gifted me with and seeing how they mingle and create among them.
This Saturday was a mix of ages, occupations, social classes and ideas. The one thing that is common among them is attitude. Open minded, adult enough not to break too much stuff and childish enough to enjoy getting out and getting a little odd.
The only downside was being reminded that I am in my 40's the next day I woke up a bit hung over, kind of fried in the lungs from a few cigarettes bummed from friends. (I will smoke when I drink too much but more on this in a second. ) I don't drink to excess often for this very reason. Thankfully nothing was broken, there were no warrants out for my arrest, and no notes from people saying I had behaved like a prick. All of which I will call good news.
I did have one thought that morning. I'm pretty much done with smoking in general. I think about 2 am on Sunday morning it dawned on me that it had lost it's pleasure and was now just something I did from force of habit. Which even at this age is kind of refreshing to think off. One less bad habit in my life. I might replace it with another but it doesn't seem likely.
So thanks to all who came out, bought me a pint or six.. teen... And for having a laugh with as opposed to at me. Words can hardly convey how much you've come to mean to me. Aside from the going out and supporting me or playing designated river or whatever. There's also the support you've all given for my writing, photography and other works.
Sometimes you look around and realize you've been given an amazing gift, it just happens to be the people who surround you. Fuckin brilliant!!
Thinking back on my life as it is, I think I learned a lot on the fine art of being social from my parents. If they worked at a place you could just assume they would be a social center of their group. I lose track of all the times their would be people over for BBQ's dinner, hanging out, playing cards etc. Their formula was simple. Create the environment bring the right people and the good time will follow.
So I tend to stick with a formula that works. I love entertaining or just coming up with excuses for people to gather. I don't need to be the center. More often than not it's just a lot of fun to see all these amazing folks that fate has gifted me with and seeing how they mingle and create among them.
This Saturday was a mix of ages, occupations, social classes and ideas. The one thing that is common among them is attitude. Open minded, adult enough not to break too much stuff and childish enough to enjoy getting out and getting a little odd.
The only downside was being reminded that I am in my 40's the next day I woke up a bit hung over, kind of fried in the lungs from a few cigarettes bummed from friends. (I will smoke when I drink too much but more on this in a second. ) I don't drink to excess often for this very reason. Thankfully nothing was broken, there were no warrants out for my arrest, and no notes from people saying I had behaved like a prick. All of which I will call good news.
I did have one thought that morning. I'm pretty much done with smoking in general. I think about 2 am on Sunday morning it dawned on me that it had lost it's pleasure and was now just something I did from force of habit. Which even at this age is kind of refreshing to think off. One less bad habit in my life. I might replace it with another but it doesn't seem likely.
So thanks to all who came out, bought me a pint or six.. teen... And for having a laugh with as opposed to at me. Words can hardly convey how much you've come to mean to me. Aside from the going out and supporting me or playing designated river or whatever. There's also the support you've all given for my writing, photography and other works.
Sometimes you look around and realize you've been given an amazing gift, it just happens to be the people who surround you. Fuckin brilliant!!
Friday, September 12, 2014
Midnight at the Double Douche part 12
Jon and Kat were waiting for me as I walked out of the gate. I simply stepped into the car and sprawled out in the back seat.
"How was it?" Jon asked.
"Thouroughly surreal." I replied. "There are no drugs on Earth that could make that whole situation seem any better."
"Who are you and what did you do with my boss?" Kat asked.
"Right now I'm the man in terrible need of a very very large drink." I said. Kat to my astonishment leaned over the back seat of the Aston and handed me a bottle of Bushmills.
"You sir have been far too sober lately." She said.
"True, but unlike our other adventures there seems to be about fuck all of anything that can be done here."
"So, blast the word out like a damn missile strike." Kat said. "After all, the news is allegedly what you do. This guy might die but if enough people read the story."
The bottled opened nicely under my fingers and I tilted it back. Letting the liquid carry my mind into different areas. I had a sneaking suspicion Cole was well and truly fucked and the notion that I couldn't help him made me lose track of the bigger picture. There was a fight to be had, and in the end that was my true calling.
"Okay it's a working night tonight, so Jon no cruising the hotel bar till you've done your homework. And Kat no collecting new servants till we're done gathering our tools." I said and knocked more of the whiskey back.
"Whatcha got in mind?" Jon asked.
"I wanna fuck over a governor, a few judges and get a lawyer dis barred and run out of the country on a rail." Another couple of gulps of whiskey. "Then to top it all off I want to see as many of the parties involved under indictment for felonies."
"How are we going to do that?" Kat asked.
"Research, these guys are all in politics for fucks sake." More whiskey and I felt a smile return. Yeah this wasn't a battle this was a war, and while each week the bad guys were winning a battle to make us all forget our common humanity, each week someone lost a friend or a family member. I needed to show the world the cost of what was happening. Even more I needed them to see the caliber of people who handed life and death like tabs of Molly at a rave.
"These guys have to have fucked over people in their careers, find them. Interview them and report back. Give me every piece of dirt thats been buried in this state."
"In 48 hours?" Kat asked.
"You're a miracle worker. Show me something."
Kat smiled. "I do love a challenge."
We pulled up in front of the hotel. My melancholy now tinged with the desire to smell blood in the water. I was no longer a mere spectator. This, this was the journalism of attachment. A fact driven editorial to show people my disgust and how I got there. Detachment is for the people who don't understand the function of their own minds. Bias is a function of being alive. I just had the guts to own up to it. Do the math to get there and show you my damn work.
I was gonna up end wrecking this damn state and every one in it if I had anything to say about it.
"How was it?" Jon asked.
"Thouroughly surreal." I replied. "There are no drugs on Earth that could make that whole situation seem any better."
"Who are you and what did you do with my boss?" Kat asked.
"Right now I'm the man in terrible need of a very very large drink." I said. Kat to my astonishment leaned over the back seat of the Aston and handed me a bottle of Bushmills.
"You sir have been far too sober lately." She said.
"True, but unlike our other adventures there seems to be about fuck all of anything that can be done here."
"So, blast the word out like a damn missile strike." Kat said. "After all, the news is allegedly what you do. This guy might die but if enough people read the story."
The bottled opened nicely under my fingers and I tilted it back. Letting the liquid carry my mind into different areas. I had a sneaking suspicion Cole was well and truly fucked and the notion that I couldn't help him made me lose track of the bigger picture. There was a fight to be had, and in the end that was my true calling.
"Okay it's a working night tonight, so Jon no cruising the hotel bar till you've done your homework. And Kat no collecting new servants till we're done gathering our tools." I said and knocked more of the whiskey back.
"Whatcha got in mind?" Jon asked.
"I wanna fuck over a governor, a few judges and get a lawyer dis barred and run out of the country on a rail." Another couple of gulps of whiskey. "Then to top it all off I want to see as many of the parties involved under indictment for felonies."
"How are we going to do that?" Kat asked.
"Research, these guys are all in politics for fucks sake." More whiskey and I felt a smile return. Yeah this wasn't a battle this was a war, and while each week the bad guys were winning a battle to make us all forget our common humanity, each week someone lost a friend or a family member. I needed to show the world the cost of what was happening. Even more I needed them to see the caliber of people who handed life and death like tabs of Molly at a rave.
"These guys have to have fucked over people in their careers, find them. Interview them and report back. Give me every piece of dirt thats been buried in this state."
"In 48 hours?" Kat asked.
"You're a miracle worker. Show me something."
Kat smiled. "I do love a challenge."
We pulled up in front of the hotel. My melancholy now tinged with the desire to smell blood in the water. I was no longer a mere spectator. This, this was the journalism of attachment. A fact driven editorial to show people my disgust and how I got there. Detachment is for the people who don't understand the function of their own minds. Bias is a function of being alive. I just had the guts to own up to it. Do the math to get there and show you my damn work.
I was gonna up end wrecking this damn state and every one in it if I had anything to say about it.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Midnight at the Double Douche part 11
Generally saying you break necks for a living is the purview of large men on football fields or MMA rings. It's the sort of boast you get to make if you're a hulking 250 pound plus guy with no neck and a series of skills in personal carnage and destruction.
So you'd be surprised to see that the person responsible for breaking necks at the prison was a young lady who stands about 5 feet two inches tall and might weigh 100 pounds if she just got out of the shower. She more closely resembled a pixie then a prison guard which is how she came to find herself doing this.
"Now what I'm doing is stretching out the rope. "She said tying the end of it to 4 fifty pound sandbags. Then pulling the lever that released the trapdoor which opened violently and loudly. A clanging sound reverberating through the room. The rope bounced and jerked as the weight hit the bottom then stopped.
"See that?" She said, indicating the rope. "That bounce? Can't have that, if the rope has give and the condemned bounces on the end it may not do the job right and then they strangle to death."
I nodded then asked her. "How did you get this job?" To me it seemed an odd picture. While I think women can do just fine as cops and soldiers I always have to wonder how someone finds themselves here. Doing this. Part of a lonely few who specialize in killing on behalf of the state. If asked I wouldn't serve and I wondered why she did.
"I volunteered." She said, turning to check the fittings on the machine. "After the first hanging we did went bad."
That was easy to remember. By all accounts the trap door opened and the guy on the end of the rope had jerked and twisted for 20 minutes. They said it was an accident.
"Why?"
"Tommy, the guy who set this up the first time? Yeah he said he made a mistake in adjusting for the drop, but I saw him place the knot wrong on purpose. He wanted that guy to suffer." She paused. "I swear that tiny little dick of his was hard in his pants as that poor guy squirmed."
Thinking about it made me glad I had gone for a light breakfast before I came here, I felt a need to be ill.
"So I contacted the warden and said I'd do it. I showed him the research I did after that, the drop tables the preparation guides everything."
"Drop tables?"
"Yeah an English hangman invented a table that matched up height and weight for the condemned to create the right amount of force to break a neck without causing them to stay conscious while they strangled, or if they fall too long pulling their head off. then there's the rope, you stretch it out like you do here to make sure the impact at the bottom does the job. When the neck breaks they're as good as dead, but the guys who developed the method said it was best to leave them hanging for an hour to ensure death by hypoxia."
Yeah the light breakfast was a seriously good idea.
"I know what you're gonna ask." She said. "Everyone else who knows asks too. Why?"
"Yeah well you beat me to it." I said with a smile.
"I saw that guy jerk and dance at the end of the rope and saw Tommy standing there. Smiling at his work when he thought no one was watching. Then I remembered something my grandfather said. 'Evil people will do a hard job because they enjoy seeing others suffer through it. A good person does a hard job because they know it needs to be done right or not at all'." She shrugged. "I don't like doing it, but I'd rather be the one who does then let Tommy or some other idiot go out of their way to kill someone as slow as they can."
Despite myself I smiled. Wondereing how it was this woman wasn't doing something more in line with her minds ability and her own ethic. Killing people seemed to be a waste. Yet somehow seemed in line with the notion of this whole sick system. Find a person with a good sense of morals and ethics then force them to do a hard thing, because frankly they would be the only ones who would do a good job. Never mind that their skills could be used to actually build things or save lives rather than take them. "So every week you prep this device and another person take a drop."
"Yeah I don't have to like it I just have to do it." She looked at the dangling sand bags on the rope and sighed. "Just wish I didn't have to." Part of me had to wonder what traumas she went through in doing this every time. Sending someone to their death, some who deserved it and others who didn't, but each one caught up in a web of a system that really cared less for them then it did for preserving some ancient status quo that we all somehow know exists but never bother to examine.
At every step there was a person who could simply say no. A Judge, a juror, a governor. A person who might notice that the person on the wrong end of the law in some cases was not some monster but a person who could, perhaps, over time be redeemed. Sadly the people who administered the system itself had no need for such thoughts. By the time it got to her she had to say yes because the alternative was horrid by any measure.
"Me too." I replied and knocked on the door to the gallows room.
"I gotta ask, when you write this what are you gonna say about me?" She asked her eyes were asking for understanding, but her body was braced like she was going to take a punch.
"That you might be the one of two people with any sense of decency in this whole sad story." Another guard opened the death house door.
"Come see me after. I like to blow off steam with a drink or twelve after it's all done." She said.
"Hell when this is all done I might need a drink or twelve myself." I replied.
"Mr O'Neil I'd be worried if you didn't."
So you'd be surprised to see that the person responsible for breaking necks at the prison was a young lady who stands about 5 feet two inches tall and might weigh 100 pounds if she just got out of the shower. She more closely resembled a pixie then a prison guard which is how she came to find herself doing this.
"Now what I'm doing is stretching out the rope. "She said tying the end of it to 4 fifty pound sandbags. Then pulling the lever that released the trapdoor which opened violently and loudly. A clanging sound reverberating through the room. The rope bounced and jerked as the weight hit the bottom then stopped.
"See that?" She said, indicating the rope. "That bounce? Can't have that, if the rope has give and the condemned bounces on the end it may not do the job right and then they strangle to death."
I nodded then asked her. "How did you get this job?" To me it seemed an odd picture. While I think women can do just fine as cops and soldiers I always have to wonder how someone finds themselves here. Doing this. Part of a lonely few who specialize in killing on behalf of the state. If asked I wouldn't serve and I wondered why she did.
"I volunteered." She said, turning to check the fittings on the machine. "After the first hanging we did went bad."
That was easy to remember. By all accounts the trap door opened and the guy on the end of the rope had jerked and twisted for 20 minutes. They said it was an accident.
"Why?"
"Tommy, the guy who set this up the first time? Yeah he said he made a mistake in adjusting for the drop, but I saw him place the knot wrong on purpose. He wanted that guy to suffer." She paused. "I swear that tiny little dick of his was hard in his pants as that poor guy squirmed."
Thinking about it made me glad I had gone for a light breakfast before I came here, I felt a need to be ill.
"So I contacted the warden and said I'd do it. I showed him the research I did after that, the drop tables the preparation guides everything."
"Drop tables?"
"Yeah an English hangman invented a table that matched up height and weight for the condemned to create the right amount of force to break a neck without causing them to stay conscious while they strangled, or if they fall too long pulling their head off. then there's the rope, you stretch it out like you do here to make sure the impact at the bottom does the job. When the neck breaks they're as good as dead, but the guys who developed the method said it was best to leave them hanging for an hour to ensure death by hypoxia."
Yeah the light breakfast was a seriously good idea.
"I know what you're gonna ask." She said. "Everyone else who knows asks too. Why?"
"Yeah well you beat me to it." I said with a smile.
"I saw that guy jerk and dance at the end of the rope and saw Tommy standing there. Smiling at his work when he thought no one was watching. Then I remembered something my grandfather said. 'Evil people will do a hard job because they enjoy seeing others suffer through it. A good person does a hard job because they know it needs to be done right or not at all'." She shrugged. "I don't like doing it, but I'd rather be the one who does then let Tommy or some other idiot go out of their way to kill someone as slow as they can."
Despite myself I smiled. Wondereing how it was this woman wasn't doing something more in line with her minds ability and her own ethic. Killing people seemed to be a waste. Yet somehow seemed in line with the notion of this whole sick system. Find a person with a good sense of morals and ethics then force them to do a hard thing, because frankly they would be the only ones who would do a good job. Never mind that their skills could be used to actually build things or save lives rather than take them. "So every week you prep this device and another person take a drop."
"Yeah I don't have to like it I just have to do it." She looked at the dangling sand bags on the rope and sighed. "Just wish I didn't have to." Part of me had to wonder what traumas she went through in doing this every time. Sending someone to their death, some who deserved it and others who didn't, but each one caught up in a web of a system that really cared less for them then it did for preserving some ancient status quo that we all somehow know exists but never bother to examine.
At every step there was a person who could simply say no. A Judge, a juror, a governor. A person who might notice that the person on the wrong end of the law in some cases was not some monster but a person who could, perhaps, over time be redeemed. Sadly the people who administered the system itself had no need for such thoughts. By the time it got to her she had to say yes because the alternative was horrid by any measure.
"Me too." I replied and knocked on the door to the gallows room.
"I gotta ask, when you write this what are you gonna say about me?" She asked her eyes were asking for understanding, but her body was braced like she was going to take a punch.
"That you might be the one of two people with any sense of decency in this whole sad story." Another guard opened the death house door.
"Come see me after. I like to blow off steam with a drink or twelve after it's all done." She said.
"Hell when this is all done I might need a drink or twelve myself." I replied.
"Mr O'Neil I'd be worried if you didn't."
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