letter to a buddy about the sleazy folk running da Ciddy....

So, since I have the internet and the new computer, I am writing a lot in my blogs. I am too serious for the people who used to follow me for the daly comedy. I have kind of thrown out the idea of pleasing my readers at this point. I am writing essay's that are beyond some of my friends, who just kind of shrug and say they cannot follow me. I still have some readers who are brainy who like this turn of events. So.... when my internet connection was cut off a few months ago, I had just written two articles about the corrupt mayor here in town. I suspected at the time that there might be a connection, because after the shit I have been through, you realize that occasionally something that seems coincidental is not at all... well, I figured out yesterday, while reading back through my blog, that one of the entries I wrote about Mayor Daly was missing. I had written two, and the second one was much kinder, because there are some things I love about this mayor... and I wanted to be balanced. Well, is this all a co-incidence? Once I wrote a poem that called Daly, The first gangsta mayor... and the entry immediatly went down... I had to retype it (this had never happened before and never has since). That day on TV I saw a black politician talking about the difference between gansta and gangster. Weird. Anyways, since the entry was taken down, I am all pissed off.... I can remember the heart of it, but the words as they were put together, and the honesty of the moment, are of course lost. I am basically considering the guy in my cross hatch. This is a good time to do this... the two papers in town are doing all these articles about local corruption because the state government is working on an anti-corruption bill that the politicians keep gutting.... They really are sleazy bastards in this town. I like to think this is not universal. I had never seen anything like this in the other cities I lived. I used to see cops going into the cab office, and coming out with big wads of cash that they non-chalantly counted and cut up in their cars. This is a mob run cab company, mind you. I worked for them because they were a block from my house. I am glad I did, in a way. A real education to see how sleazy these guys really are. I was one of their favorites, so they took care of me.... actually involved me in insurance fraud without my knowledge, and sent me to a supposed doctor who recommended a bunch of shit to me after an accident... physical therapy forever... since you get, in a settlement, three times your medical bills. I stormed into the cab companies lawyers office (yes, one of the mobsters sons is their lawyer -- how cliche is that)... and told him this place tried to get me involved in fraud. A year later this clinic was busted. I would have actually went to jail if I did what this mobster wanted me to. Fuck... they blamed one of my accidents on someone else, charged the guy 450 bucks. I found out a year after it happened, and was sick at the though,... there was nothing I could do. We paid 60 bucks a day for the cab, but when they gathered the money envelopes, they would always take the money from a couple of them, then tell the drivers that they never got their lease. The drivers all knew they were doing it, and just paid up like a corruption tax. When it happened to me, I made a big deal our of it -- and since I was buddies with the head guy, who bought one of my paintings, they suddenly 'found' my lost lease. I told some guy who I was great friends with in grade school about a little of what happened to me, and freaked him, made him think I am crazy. That is part of what makes me crazy -- I know too much, man. I have had an experience that is so outside the norm, that it sounds like madness when related, which is why I relegated the story to Waking Up Jesus. My story is certainly now very, very different than most, which is good for my writing, because the world my Waking Up Jesus lives in is ours, but most people will think it merely a fiction. Enough people know about me that my words are totally believed by them -- if you think I am alone in my vision, then know no less than steven colbert and john stewart know and accept what I say as total fact. They both tried to help me.... I think. That is the thing about the spies, you never know who is who.... i you are a guy like me. I know of a couple spies in this neighborhood, but I also know that some of these spies are on my side.... and some are not. I figure, since I am not in jail or being harrassed for pot smoking or something, that I have a lot of allies here in town. Oh, well...