So I'm waiting for editors notes from the first draft of a super hero novel I am working on called (for now) Rites of Evolution.
So while waiting I am working on some other ideas. I have a horror supernatural work I am doing based around the idea of a society of immortals, and no none of them are named Connor or Duncan.
I am also working on a industrial/Ambient album because I have the tools dammit! So I might as well use them.
But while those are in progress I figured I should put some stuff out there for people to find. So I am setting aside the midnight story for now as it was disjointed. Even if it was a fun project to do at work.
Instead I'm working on a city noir in my mind. Comments are welcome, opinions are also cool, if you think it sucks give it me a little more to work in then. "You're terrible!"
And away we go.
A city of Bright eyes. Chapter one.
I really wish killers would wait till I was done with lunch. The guy from the grill down the street had just dropped off my order. A barbecue chicken breast sandwich with swiss and a side of fruit slices. Two bites into it my phone chose to rang. I was two bites in and really enjoying a moment away from the spiritual grime I faced every day at my job. For a brief moment I could almost forget the court date I had tomorrow.
The phone though had other ideas, so I chased the food down with a couple swallows of ice tea and picked up the receiver.
"Vice, Detective Wallace speaking."
"Hey I got a hot one for you." The voice on the other end said. It was the desk sergeant Adams, he was always happy when a vice case rolled along his desk. It made a fun break from a day of meth heads, murders, assaults and other indignities that were the norm around the precinct.
"Can it wait? I was hoping to enjoy lunch before taking a call."
"Fraid not, it's getting colder as we speak." He replied.
"How does a vice case get colder?" I asked. "Usually the evidence is attached to something warm." Valid point as far as my life was concerned. On any given day I was looking up pimps, hookers and guys bound and determined to be porn kings.
"Well the suns out so he should be warm for a while, but it won't be long. Someone shot Eddie Weathers 12 times on a city street."
"So pass it to homicide and tell them to find the perp and buy em a medal." I replied.
"Homicide is booked solid, it's the start of summer a lot of heat related domestic disturbances. Besides Eddie was always your boy."
"For better or worse." I said looking at the meal I had planned on enjoying. "Okay give me the address."
"1050 west Marx place." Adams replied. "Forensics is all ready there. Oh and more good news." He said with a chuckle.
"Why do I have a feeling I'm going to hate this."
"Because ya got a functioning brain your head."
"Yeah remind me to lose that. What's the news."
"You get to break in some new meat."
I groaned, and through it I could hear Adams laugh. Vice is a world few people really want to be in, so we ran through detectives in vice the way a lot of hookers ran through underwear. They usually saw the department as a stepping stone to robbery homicide or narcotics. "What ya got for me now?"
"His names Brooks. yer gonna love him."
I sighed deeply, nothing good can come of this. "Have the jacket and my new friend ready for me when I get downstairs."
Roy adams was a large florid man who bathed drowned his troubles in large quantities of cheap scotch and his body in vast amounts of cheaper cologne. On days when he really wanted to torture the world he'd let the two scents mix. Add in his puffy face now filling in with gin blossoms and you had a man who used the effects of his torturous existence as a weapon against anyone in his presence.
He stood at the center of his little fiefdom. As the assignment sergeant in the precinct he pretty much ran the flow of cases we handled. He was a good man to be on the right side of in our business. So every week I slipped him a bottle of Cutty Sark. Which kept me from having to do weeny wagger details in the city parks.
Adams was waiting with a big smile on his face he grabbed a folder of material and held it up. Along side his desk was a very nicely appointed man is his late 20's. He wore a navy blue suit and black wing tip shoes. His black hair was slicked back into a neo preppy cut that framed features so perfect and angular that he almost seemed in human. He had a long lean body, standing a couple of inches taller than me and probably weighing 40 pounds less. He struck me as the sort who ran for fun. Maybe it was just a gut reaction, but I had a feeling junior was going to be a pain in the ass.
"Detective Wallace allow me to introduce you to Detective Preston Brooks." I held out my hand to my partner du jour he took it with a firm grip and looked me in the eye. He had the look of a person with a sense of purpose. Personally I hoped that included a desire to learn the trade of handling the slimier parts of the city.
His clothes spoke of a man who didn't so much enjoy order as much as he demanded it. Sometimes you hope your first impression is wrong, as he was now about to fall into a world full of the twisting winding cables of dark desires and the means of getting them. A place where order ceases to exist until people find their needs met.
"Detective Brooks." I said and handed him the folder. "Nice to meet you I'm Shane Wallace."
"Nice to meet you." He took the folder. "What are we working on?"
"A homicide, the victim is named Eddie Weathers."
"I thought we were vice." Brooks said looking surprised. Then opened folder.
"I only put the greatest hits in there." Adams said with a grin.
"Trust me if there was one thing Eddie was it was a man dedicated to vice." The wind in the room shifted and I got a blast of Adams current cologne. My eyes watered, and I walked away. "Come on, let's get caught up on the way."
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Been away for a few.. sorry...
So uh yeah I ended up having to take a break from doing the blog and the crackfest. So allow me a moment for excuses. I got handed a big video editing job that needed to be done pronto. Then got sick. The sort of sick that makes all creative thought either impossible or so banal that you feel ashamed for having such terribly thought out ideas.
But now I'm back. Hopefully for a bit.
Meanwhile I always run through my mind things to write about up here. Lately my interactions with certain sub sets of people got me to thinking.
It seems to me that there seems to be a societally conditioned notion among some people to look for a group of people they can reflexively look down on. Usually a minority group of some sort, because lets face it's easier to bully people around when you're in a larger group.
Conversations with and observations of the culture around trans people have blown my mind of late, as it strikes me that they can't seem to catch a break from most anyone. As a mostly straight man looking in I find the level of criticism they get from LGB groups and also from corners of the female or male population is kind of mind boggling.
Then we have the case recently of the furry convention that someone pranked (or as I like to say, attacked.) With a device that emitted Chorine fumes, sending 19 people to the hospital. Now to say that furries are by and large seen as on the bottom of the geekdom totem pole would be something of an understatement. Sure the whole thing comes across as a bit silly, but my experiences with the furry community at local cons has always been cool. They are by and large the nicest, easiest going and some of the most fun people there.
It just underlies the notion that, in my humble opinion, we have been taught to view people using the wrong lens. That for far too long we view people with an eye that their differences are things we should view as road blocks to an understanding.
I prefer to take a different view. (What a shock!) That our differences are a thing to be explored and celebrated. Religiously I'm a pagan, but that doesn't mean there isn't wisdom in the Bible, Torah, Or Koran that might do me some good. I might not buy the whole thing but I am always willing to listen. Who knows maybe we'll make our biggest stride when we as people realize that each of us has the key to a larger puzzle and that listening to folks might help you solve a bit more of it.
As to our differences why should it bother me who someone loves as you long as they love? Why should it bother me that you got the physical body of one gender and the identity of another? If you're comfortable in the end with who you are it can only make your life better.
And as to bagging on peoples for their hobbies, fandoms, and other simple pleasures. Seriously what business is it of yours? Geeking out on something actually shows a passion for life that others seem to lack. In the end maybe that's why they get so hung up, you have something that makes your life larger and all they have are sitcoms on TV.
Perhaps in the end that's their own little hell they don't even know they're in.
Comments are always welcome, and if anyone has an idea of something they want to see me write about let me know. It's so nice to have my writing brain back.
But now I'm back. Hopefully for a bit.
Meanwhile I always run through my mind things to write about up here. Lately my interactions with certain sub sets of people got me to thinking.
It seems to me that there seems to be a societally conditioned notion among some people to look for a group of people they can reflexively look down on. Usually a minority group of some sort, because lets face it's easier to bully people around when you're in a larger group.
Conversations with and observations of the culture around trans people have blown my mind of late, as it strikes me that they can't seem to catch a break from most anyone. As a mostly straight man looking in I find the level of criticism they get from LGB groups and also from corners of the female or male population is kind of mind boggling.
Then we have the case recently of the furry convention that someone pranked (or as I like to say, attacked.) With a device that emitted Chorine fumes, sending 19 people to the hospital. Now to say that furries are by and large seen as on the bottom of the geekdom totem pole would be something of an understatement. Sure the whole thing comes across as a bit silly, but my experiences with the furry community at local cons has always been cool. They are by and large the nicest, easiest going and some of the most fun people there.
It just underlies the notion that, in my humble opinion, we have been taught to view people using the wrong lens. That for far too long we view people with an eye that their differences are things we should view as road blocks to an understanding.
I prefer to take a different view. (What a shock!) That our differences are a thing to be explored and celebrated. Religiously I'm a pagan, but that doesn't mean there isn't wisdom in the Bible, Torah, Or Koran that might do me some good. I might not buy the whole thing but I am always willing to listen. Who knows maybe we'll make our biggest stride when we as people realize that each of us has the key to a larger puzzle and that listening to folks might help you solve a bit more of it.
As to our differences why should it bother me who someone loves as you long as they love? Why should it bother me that you got the physical body of one gender and the identity of another? If you're comfortable in the end with who you are it can only make your life better.
And as to bagging on peoples for their hobbies, fandoms, and other simple pleasures. Seriously what business is it of yours? Geeking out on something actually shows a passion for life that others seem to lack. In the end maybe that's why they get so hung up, you have something that makes your life larger and all they have are sitcoms on TV.
Perhaps in the end that's their own little hell they don't even know they're in.
Comments are always welcome, and if anyone has an idea of something they want to see me write about let me know. It's so nice to have my writing brain back.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Signs of a crap writer. (For once I'm pretty sure it's not me.)
So allow me to show my age a bit. Back in the 80's I was by and large a heavy metal kid. I had a serious enjoyment of Joy Division and New Order, but if you wanted to me to come to the show please have a band with some serious rock guitars etc. I saw Iron Maiden Multiple times, and Judas Priest, Metallica etc.
So I had a burning passion for that kind of music, and part of me would die inside anytime I saw the normal press, or conventional music press do an article on or worse yet review any of these bands. Inevitably it would begin with "I hate Heavy Metal." Then they'd pull out their thesauruses find every word they never had a chance to use in the negative and slam the record or band with all their might.
Every time I would wonder. "So yeah you hate heavy metal, great so why did you out of everyone at the magazine review the record?"
Well long story short, no one there got it, understood or cared to take the time to understand the sub culture. Instead they looked at the world through hipster tinted goggles. Saw the kids in denim and leather and decided to simply record the sights they saw from the outside not wondering why people had such a passion for it. To them those kids were just stoners, burn outs and stupid for not liking the latest album by the Smiths. (The Smiths are a weird one for me. I never liked Morrissey, but I thought the music was brilliant.)
I was reminded of all of this while reading an article in the online edition of "The Daily Nebraskan." In it there was an article about Anime Nebraskon. A local convention that, big surprise, is a gathering of Anime fans. It was obvious that this creepy little git was not going to be very positive about it from the title, and his use of the phrase. "I don't like anime." He then indulged every stereotype of nerd dom in his comments about the event. Basically going to ridiculous lengths to portray the people involved as unwashed dirty escapists with a fetish for costuming.
It became obvious that he showed up with no desire to learn about the sub culture and simply looked for what he wanted to see.
Perhaps he could have noticed the skills people developed in making their costumes. How for a brief three day period the fans could hang out with others who got it. A welcome form of escapism from an everyday world that seems to bask in insanity like a snake on a fist full of valium. For many fans of any genre a gathering like this is a chance to recharge the batteries and make and renew friendships.
Of course he didn't do any of this, because the guy who wrote it is a crap writer.
It made me think of a book by Matt Taibbi. "Smells like Dead Elephants." In it he examined the election of 2008 and actually joined a megachurch and a call center for John Mccain. The book was quite a piece of work. Matt had nothing in common with these folks but he wanted to understand why it was that they held the beliefs that they did. He never made it a point to look down on the people and did an excellent job of showing the fear people have in our country regarding the direction (s) it's heading in. He was sympathetic, and while he disagreed with them, he showed why they had this feeling and passion.
And that's why Matt Taibbi is a brilliant writer. He went out of his way to understand and to show us why we should too.
Which is also why the guy who wrote that article in the Daily Nebraskan is a hack and will likely always will be. Sure there's always a market for smug snakes who wander through a crowd looking for reasons to view them all as rubes and fools. But frankly Fox news has enough of those right now, and the supply of brown lipstick for those jobs is getting thin.
The writers worst sin in this case was intellectual laziness. He never enquired, he just looked for evidence to support his hypothesis and wouldn't actually talk to anyone lest he be swayed from his opinion. You could feel his desire to be above the crowd in each sentence.
One can hope that the comments he got on his article might cause him to examine his method of reporting and as he is doing this for a college paper he might have a faculty advisor suggest that his work was functional but lacked any real depth. That he didn't put himself into the scene he was studying to get a feel for it.
Or translated into everyday language he's a lazy writer who needs to get over himself and maybe get out and live some.
Meanwhile after two weeks of serious video work I now have some spare time and I plan to be back writing some more for more amusement. Comments as always are welcome.
So I had a burning passion for that kind of music, and part of me would die inside anytime I saw the normal press, or conventional music press do an article on or worse yet review any of these bands. Inevitably it would begin with "I hate Heavy Metal." Then they'd pull out their thesauruses find every word they never had a chance to use in the negative and slam the record or band with all their might.
Every time I would wonder. "So yeah you hate heavy metal, great so why did you out of everyone at the magazine review the record?"
Well long story short, no one there got it, understood or cared to take the time to understand the sub culture. Instead they looked at the world through hipster tinted goggles. Saw the kids in denim and leather and decided to simply record the sights they saw from the outside not wondering why people had such a passion for it. To them those kids were just stoners, burn outs and stupid for not liking the latest album by the Smiths. (The Smiths are a weird one for me. I never liked Morrissey, but I thought the music was brilliant.)
I was reminded of all of this while reading an article in the online edition of "The Daily Nebraskan." In it there was an article about Anime Nebraskon. A local convention that, big surprise, is a gathering of Anime fans. It was obvious that this creepy little git was not going to be very positive about it from the title, and his use of the phrase. "I don't like anime." He then indulged every stereotype of nerd dom in his comments about the event. Basically going to ridiculous lengths to portray the people involved as unwashed dirty escapists with a fetish for costuming.
It became obvious that he showed up with no desire to learn about the sub culture and simply looked for what he wanted to see.
Perhaps he could have noticed the skills people developed in making their costumes. How for a brief three day period the fans could hang out with others who got it. A welcome form of escapism from an everyday world that seems to bask in insanity like a snake on a fist full of valium. For many fans of any genre a gathering like this is a chance to recharge the batteries and make and renew friendships.
Of course he didn't do any of this, because the guy who wrote it is a crap writer.
It made me think of a book by Matt Taibbi. "Smells like Dead Elephants." In it he examined the election of 2008 and actually joined a megachurch and a call center for John Mccain. The book was quite a piece of work. Matt had nothing in common with these folks but he wanted to understand why it was that they held the beliefs that they did. He never made it a point to look down on the people and did an excellent job of showing the fear people have in our country regarding the direction (s) it's heading in. He was sympathetic, and while he disagreed with them, he showed why they had this feeling and passion.
And that's why Matt Taibbi is a brilliant writer. He went out of his way to understand and to show us why we should too.
Which is also why the guy who wrote that article in the Daily Nebraskan is a hack and will likely always will be. Sure there's always a market for smug snakes who wander through a crowd looking for reasons to view them all as rubes and fools. But frankly Fox news has enough of those right now, and the supply of brown lipstick for those jobs is getting thin.
The writers worst sin in this case was intellectual laziness. He never enquired, he just looked for evidence to support his hypothesis and wouldn't actually talk to anyone lest he be swayed from his opinion. You could feel his desire to be above the crowd in each sentence.
One can hope that the comments he got on his article might cause him to examine his method of reporting and as he is doing this for a college paper he might have a faculty advisor suggest that his work was functional but lacked any real depth. That he didn't put himself into the scene he was studying to get a feel for it.
Or translated into everyday language he's a lazy writer who needs to get over himself and maybe get out and live some.
Meanwhile after two weeks of serious video work I now have some spare time and I plan to be back writing some more for more amusement. Comments as always are welcome.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Midnight at the Double Douche Part 15
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.
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.
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.
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