I am sitting in my favorite Starbucks, in the middle of Blondie and her study group. The Penguins want to play cards, and have yet to say anything because, while they may be able to bully Blondie and the girls, I think they hesitate at hassling a grown man with a goatee and mustache who tends to look angry when concentrating. So it is an uncomfortable stalemate with everyone just glaring at me.
Its good to be back.
For those who were not aware, I have been gone for the last week. The blogs have been scheduled. I spent a week with my kids in Portland, (While managing to blog several times.). Then I made the trek to the Nevada desert for Burning Man. (More on that later.)
Normally I would not give up my asshole seat for anything. There is a certain delight in pissing of several groups of people at once with just my presence. (Check the archives till you find the story about me taking Garrett the six and a half foot tall homeless guy to Noah’s Bagels and having morning bagels out front with the regulars. It was nice visit with an interesting guy and a beautiful shit storm of discomfort for the regulars.)
But Ronaldo just came in.
For those behind the curve, (Read the fucking blog) Ronaldo has an interesting situation. He bought a house 50 years ago in a prime location in Manhattan Beach. 20 years ago, he remodeled and made it a mansion that he rents out to wealthy families as an income property. His son manages the property.
Well, he did until recently.
It turns out that the son was renting the house to himself under an assumed name, not paying rent, making underage porn films, possibly dabbling in the sex slave trade, running a meth lab and embezzling money from his own father. Its an amazing bit of cruel shit to pull on your parents. It caused Ronaldo to have chest pains for several days.
We have to talk.
I slide sideways from the big table into one of the little rounds and wait. When Ronaldo gets his tea, I wave him over.
Ronaldo is one of those old guys from that generation that will relax and commiserate over his troubles with a friend over a drink.
Now days, our drink is coffee, which is not made to relax you. The good news is, Ronaldo views me as familiar enough to tell me his troubles.
And they’re some pretty fucked up troubles.
Turns out that only 2 of the girls were underage, the ones making the porn films? Somehow, this is viewed as better, I am not sure how, but whatever.
They were all illegal, which is bad, and it is still being debated about whether they forced to do drugs and make porn films. Half the girls are saying they were forced and half were doing it because they have to pay off the “Sneak me into the country and ruin my life” fee. That is still coercion,
Ronaldo is sure they are lying and his son will be cleared.
A father’s love is golden.
Personally, I would really appreciate it if Karma would get off of its ass for once and bring down some vicious biblical justice in this case. Ronaldo’s son is the closest thing to Manson I have seen in this generation.
And yet, we are so jaded by this sort of thing that we say “Oh, how terrible!” and move on. I have yet to see anything on this in the news. In other words, they ran the original story and no follow ups.
According to Ronaldo, his son’s friends were running the Meth lab and he didn’t know.
This entire situation is hard to fathom.
Ronaldo seems like a fine man, says the right things you expect to hear from a solid guy from that generation.
And yet, his son, based on reports, is a fucking monster who deserves to be put down like a rabid dog.
With any luck, that will happen in prison. I think in my last Ronaldo blog, I called for the hopeful prison rape of both Ronaldo’s son and Karma.
I do tend to rant, don’t I.
Why the hell not?
They only thing you hear from our politicians is ranting about other politicians. It is never anyones fault, its always someone elses.
he economy, taxes, jobs, war, drugs, fiscal responsibility. There is a lot of bad shit rolling right now.
Me? I have decided to blame it all on Ronaldo’s son. Kind of a “Sacrificial Lamb” of the new millennium.
Because someone has to pay the fiddler.