Oh, You Are An Attorney! A Guy Looked You Up On the Internet . . . Don't Believe Everything You Read on the Internet! LOL! Da . . . You Didn't Believe Me?
JIM BEAN . . . PREMIUM NUTS!
Money does not make you a lawyer, nor does the lack, there of, make you a non-lawyer. When the powers that be in Utah, stole my house, my vehicles, cabin, furniture, art collections, law practice, through taking my house, my family photos, and all that was precious and dear to me, and paid for, I might add, they didn't get my law degree and my brain with the theft of cases! LOL! While they have hacked my computers, claimed the rights, authorship, and title to my case and blogz, keeping the proceeds from both, they, could not take the brain, the education, the knowledge base, the brilliant sarcasm and humor, and I am being somewhat fascitious, but my point being, their having my money, and using it to impress you, and leaving me, basically, penniless, did not accomplish their goals of laying waste to me and ending my legal career. In fact, the total opposite is true, they probably forced me into seeking another venue to vent my knowledge, leading me to a blog that has been, next to my children, the joy and love of my life, my legal career, and the best pay ever for doing all that I did in the law, and continue to do . . . pure power! And I am into power, more than money any day. Because it is far cooler, to have the necessary argumentation skills, to persuade someone over to your way of thinking, through research, logic, critical thinking, legal analysis, and writing and communications skills, than it ever would be, just to bribe them, entice loyalties, based on looks, money, popularity, etc.
As a high school extemporaneous speaker and competitor, I won a five state medal, in a competition, held at the University of Arizona, on a debate trip, when I was a senior in high school, 1972-73. And I distinctly remember what the judge who gave me the win, or the judges, a panel of three, maybe, but they said, while you didn't have the most polished delivery, and perfect speech, you persuaded me over to your opinion on the subject. To this day, I believe, that it may not be pretty, and you may not like what I have to say, but, through the tools of argumentation, research, reason, logic, knowledge, the Constitution, be you, Republican, Democrat, or Independent, I argue to persuade you to my way of thinking, and that is real rewarding to present an argument is such as way, that I can take a person, 180 degrees polar opposite to my way of thinking, like on abortion, female reproduction, rights, abortion, birth control, and convince people that to prevent abortion, you have to start with sex education, and kids are uncomfortable hearing it from their parents, therefore, the next most logical place to hear about sex is in school, then, with as much as people don't like Planned Parenthood, they are the next line of defense against abortion, so fund it! Hard core, right to lifers, when presented the facts, and statistics, and learning that we need to start with the fact that God created us, wired us for sex, and that is a good thing, now how do we stop all the abortions? Think!
So, to entertain the idea, that simply by a gang rape, so to say in Utah, trashing me, attempting to do a character assassination, and by presenting you with more palpable women, as JoAnn S. Secrsit, J.D., better to look at, nicer, better dressers, nicer clothes, more closely related to your flavor of politics, does not replace the effort, the climb, the challenges, the heights of law and courts that I have gone to, without mentors, a law firm, a legal assistant, legal secretary, a research assistant, doing everything myself, which puts me a class all by myself . . . as it does my son, in his music, writing his own Poor Man's Copyright, fighting to book tours, create web and home pages, battle to keep his music, titles, names and bands, is paramount to the excellence he displays in the quality of his work, music, lyrics and art. Elliot was to the music filed, what his mother was to the legal field, fresh, different, more creative, bold, brave and exploratory, not letting more seasoned musicians or attorneys, dictate what approach we will take to our art, and both of us, looking to the pleasure of the journey, rather than the pot of gold at the end of that journey!
There is, simply, no short cut to success . . . yeah, bad ass . . . a dejected and war torn college students after spring finals at Flathead Valley Community College. By their comment, and the resignation, they knew, that all this work, tests, quizzes, papers, presentations, no matter how painful, is the very work that will make them a success in their chosen fields and professions!
BREAKFAST CONVERSATION OF DONUTS AND CHOCOLATE MILK, TURNED RANCID AND SOUR, AS DID MY TEMPER!
Okay, in the last week, I have been run, due to plots, plans and parties, run from Missoula, to Kalispell, back to Missoula, to Butte, where similar hits and parties were planned, back to Missoula, with knocks on my door, at a motel, by 4:00 A.M., followed by two men, camping out at my room 114 at the Sleepy Inn, knocking again, an hour later, knowing damned well, that whomever, probably the cops, was not in the room and me waiting for the early morning battering ram, coming through my door next, after hearing multiple male voices, just outside my door, indicating a manace, or wolf, waiting just outside that door, with thoughts of devouring me, more than rescuing me, from a clear and present danger, that seemed intent on not going away; to the familiar faces, but unfamiliar patterns of behavior at the Break Cafe, Missoula, waiting, I later, both saw and noticed, the party they were waiting for, was either an undercover cop, but with his glock side are still on, with shorts, or a paid assassin with these two fucking clowns, being the identifiers, as is the pattern of things as they have gone for a long time . . . don't want to blow off the head of the woman, who was sitting up near the window, that could have fit the description of me, same age, studious, glasses on and intent on her work, as I am mine . . . but, due to my previous experiences, I know better than to think this guy, cop or otherwise, was up to any good, just like the two dudes, parking their asses outside my door!
Super I Store, Club of Dumb
Taking me to the Kalispell experience in less that 12 hours after I arrived. Now, I suspect that either Mormons own the Super 1 Stores in the Flathead, or there are Mormon managers, because, almost since the very first time I came to this store, there have been employees inducted to participate, rat, and scream on sting ops at the store, especially, when few people are around, which is generally the case, when I am here as I am right now . . . I think, blowing another sting op after years of failures, calling cops, only to have me disappear, the ghost, which I am sure is attributed to as Kay, since her ugly pugnacious face is not a familiar one to this area, I don't think, but the employees, or undercover floor boys, CIA counter help, has not been too effective. I can sit and eat, watch videos, for hours, then I notice strange behavior, something out of the ordinary, and I mean they have tried, codes, colors, and whatever, or just people, as seemed the case last night, two guys, and the night floor guy, came back to where I was sitting alone, and pretended to look at the fruit and produce, but neither of them both or even bothered to fake buying one, and just simply looked at me and then left. After one guy did that twice, a clerk came back to a dark food court and deli, long after closing, and then another guy came and looked at me, while he allegedly checked on thenot have had mu cheeses, are getting a bit gun shy, because, they have never pulled off getting me, for God knows what . . . Doesn't seem to matter, "they" want me, therefore, do whatever it takes, with no limits and no exceptions, ah, smart might be nice, but I can thank my lucky stars, that cops, hit men and women, rats, homeless spies, are as dumb as they are . . . I always notice nervousness, looking for back up, or cops, acting outside the normal activities of the day . . .
I people watch, I know routines, schedules, patterns and when those activities change, there is generally something up, and there was last night. I quickly picked up my stuff, never leave things a mess, even under time constraints, but I ditched out and finished my true crime shows over on the Pizza Hut Internet, on the tables outside the restaurant, where I used to wait for John Bagby to get off work, so we could drive, Farm to Market Road, between the backsides of Kali and Whitefish, Montana . . . amazing, picturesque, and pristine beauty, especially, well, in all seasons, a favorite of mine and John's, no matter the time of day, or the time of season. Later, I cruised over to Smiths Grocery, where they have been much nicer, over the three years or so, I have been either living in the Flathead Valley or visiting, but, last night was the exception . . . someone had to have warned store personnel to be on guard and drive me from their establishment.
Smith's Stupid Secret Agent Man
There is this middle aged man, wearing a red shirt, acing like he is just killing time, or he appeared that he could have been an employee, who was contemplating putting returned items in this place or that, but he was standing at the entrance of the Smith's store on Idaho. I had been sitting at the bus shelter, just on the west side of Smith's not wanting to spend too much time in the store, and they don't have wi-fi . . . which you would, but I would not have had too much to do, and that tends to look, feel and taste like loitering, and I am a law biding citizen, and know that eating and other establishments need their tables, and I am always ready, willing and able to get out of someone's way if a table it needed. But, I was cold and it was wet, so I thought, I could probably buy a donut and soda, and sit there and get warm for a while. Just prior to going in, and the reason I did, is two men rode by the street bus shelter, which was missing a glass panel to block wind, and the benches were wet from the rain, on their bikes, and the whole thing struck me as strange, for some reason and I always trust my gut feelings. I thought there might be something up, but was just on guard, not alarmed.
So, this slightly balding average to portly guy, is outside. I walked passed him, without saying a thing, and got to the restroom, as I come out . . . this guy who seemed to be killing time, was running back to the employee lounge, and in a great hurry. Okay, again this is a set up, you see the doubles, the fraud gals, have been around as your normal citizen, and it appears, or these guys on staff for the fuckers, who hate me, are suppose to make things difficult for me, calling cops on the take and payrolls who have no problemo, harassing me as often as they can. But, dude is in a full blown run, don't think he intended to get caught, from bore to gore, break neck speed, is not normal, under any circumstances! So, I decide a donut and sode, just are not worth, getting some fucks dick up over and certainly not worth arrest, jail, or getting beheaded, and buried on old back roads I love in this area. LOL! As I am leaving, God, my Intel man, plays a song on the radio, so I am certain that my feelings and the evidence is right, Secret Agent Man was the song on the radio, reading it right, central! I go . . . my cursor just jumped up to the middle of the work employee, and the typo, inserted into the word, employee . . . like God saying, hell yeah, that was a fed, or an employee of the mafia staff! I knew that without Intel! LOL! But, keep me on my toes! LOL!
The Homeless Bitch in the Red Bandana
So, this chick, a fashionable homeless chick, kind of like Kennedy and Phil, or other undercover, like the Sicialian mafia hit man, looking too damned good to be homeless, and they are department store dress ups, can always pick up on them! But, this chick is not being bothered by this secret agent guy, waiting to pounce on me, having been scouted out by bicycle boys, minute earlier--so it is not a homeless issue, and the chick also seems familiar and friendly with the product department, who overheard me rip her a new ass today! So, after a short potty break, and ditching the cops, whom I am sure Mr. Secret Agent Man, was calling or some of the mobs goons, one in the same to me, I left and said, Hi, to a sister on the streets! LOL! She proved much more a cop supporter, one of Shelley's Hell's Bells, and too chummy with the early morning crew at the deli and in the store. Several of the guys still here at the store, were just finishing up on the midnight crew, and just scowled at me as I walked down the isles this morning! I love it, these fuckers act more turned off and pissed with me foiling their plans, that I do, given the fact that they just tired to either get me picked up, locked up, or knocked up as in a hit, than I am, for them trying to kill me!
So, I go over to some unoccuptied offices just across the streets and get a few hours sleep, sitting down in the entrance way enclave, blocking me from the slight breeze last night. I decide to chase not being seen by this rat ass agent, payroll mole, and go put on my make up in the bathrooms. Then I ;proceeded to Super ! again . . . better a devil you know, than a devil you don't know right? Just as I start into the Smith's restrooms, I see spy guy and another employee talking and it appears that the two didn't see me, but I was not going to chance it. My vanity marks the day, and even when homeless, I put on my make up, and generally that makes me look, not homeless. Nobody ever suspects that I am homeless, generally. So, with a quick Mexican spit bath, my make-up is on, and I am out the door. Once inside, I see the alleged homeless cop, and say hi, get my two donuts, chocolate milk . . . another homeless dude, Brett just walked in, last I saw him, was at the Pov., a few weeks ago . . several guys were just here, looking very undercover, better get going. Conversation I had with bitch chick, is basically up above. Most homeless chicks don't have attitudes, and make dumb ass statements, like don't you listen to anyone . . . hey, chick, I was reading, minding my own business and you struck up the conversation . . . fed agent, and started barraging me with questions, that all I was doing was answering! You were condescending to me, and acted like I didn't know anything . . . YOU DON'T! I could tell by your lame ass questions!
The Incensere Apology to Save Face In Front of the Produce Gal . . . NOT, Ripped her Ass Again . . . Dig It, She Left! LOL!
I am generally a pretty nice, friendly person, and most people don't try to cop an attitude with me, hint, hint, hint . . . I showed her a copy of a TIME magazine article, and said, as she complained that I had to be right and didn't listen, didn't want to hear what she had to say, and she was dead, right, spot on, straight up, right! Twice I told her I just wanted to enjoy the fire, read and have a good breakfast, so let's just not talk, we agree to disagree! No, she tried to push it and ended up in hot shit again, there are few matches for this sharp tongue and brutal wit and argument. She apologizes, but not with the right intent . . . just like when Shelley, family crew, and those jealous of me, accused me, along with the alleged terminal brain disease, back in 2000, of having narcissistic personality symptoms . . . no, this is a disease, that doesn't bring on narcissism and if anything, I am the total opposite of a narcissist, who are sociopaths, only care about themselves, and it is always only about the person themselves, their wants, their needs, and what they feel they are entitled to, even at the expense of the person who made the money or gained the station, as in the wealthy man, who's wife cooked the books to the tune of $2 million she pretended to pay the IRS, who came a calling, with this wife, banking the money, and them shooting her husband in cold blood, pumping 6 bullets into him! She felt entitled to the money, as did Shelley, Rachel and crew, on my money, or my father, who felt more entitled to my private disability check, than I was, who worked for the entity who provided that insurance!
The cops didn't feel that I should have my sister's beautiful home, that I saved from foreclosure in court, nor the paid for in cash furnishings, that turned a beautiful home, into being called a palace, castle, mansion or museum, due to my classy taste and talking my friends and client, into hanging their photo art on my walls, while I would have bought all 200 pieces of stellar art, had I got the money I won from the case . . . you see, I will not take a dime I do not earn . . . the narcissists don't think the person who earned the money, the case, the blog or the degrees that got them to that point, should have it, and she/he is first in right and time, for some ungodly reason and sickness, illness, and so contrary to normal thought, with 90% of the people seeing that the one who earned the money, won the case, wrote the blog, is the one entitled to the money attached to that work . . . Shelley always wanted something for nothing and same with her son, Isaac, both were jealous maniacs who could have, should have and didn't earn anything, so they stole it, and were supported by other equally sick individuals! This chick was accusing me, of doing exactly what she was doing . . . interrupting me, after asking me questions, not listening to my explanations, and taking the exchange to pre-attorney days! Clue, cop couldn't take the heat! Hates the Constitution; therefore, defends the Patriot Act . . . giving cops more power, the opportunity to steal, kill and thrill each other on Cops, taking what is not theirs and giving it to bitches who couldn't do the work, write the blog, or handle the case, and rewarding the easy, obedient bitches, because they can't handle the real deal, who doesn't need them . . . they want the Cheerleader Girls that stroke their big boy egos! LOL! I blister them . . .
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