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Cracking the Ginger

The Ginger is not an easy nut to crack, but at least I know this going in. I am fairly sure she hates me like poison, but I am not sure why.

I learned not to ask on that one long ago.

I once had a coworker that began trying to get the boss to fire me on my second day. I hadn’t even spoken to the girl.

When she took another job two years later, she said bye to the two owners, ignored me and left.

Immediately, one of the owners turned to me and said he had been waiting two years to ask me what the hell I did to that girl to generate that kind of hatred.

Still, no clue.

Could be that whole asshole thing, once again. I swear, its like some sort of Karmic herpes that I can’t seem to shake.

It would figure that I am the one guy karma is going to hold to a standard.

Anyway, we were talking about the Ginger.

The reason I need her to talk to me is that she is the twenty something sort-of girlfriend of an older gentleman named Ronaldo who’s son committed a whole bunch of crimes. Right in the middle of the son trying to negotiate a plea bargain, Ronaldo moved to Chicago to be with an old friend of his deceased wife that he has fallen for.

And on the day that he left, I found out that there was a rather unexplained relationship with the Ginger.

Do you see where this is going?

The Ginger knows the updates on Ronaldo’s son. She also is the only one who can shed any light on whether or not she was sleeping with a man old enough to be her grandfather?

I am that kind of rotten that I want to pry into someone elses REALLY personal business.

So it all comes down to her.

I am sitting at the table closest to the the Cream and Sugar kiosk.

I am on a stake out.

I have been strategically sitting here whenever possible, ever since Ronaldo left.

And today it paid off.

At first I hadn’t even realized that she was there. The folks at Starbucks scurry around at high speed at all times and the Ginger is rarely the one out front. She plays cashier and Barrista mostly.

But there she was, changing the garbage.

I held my breath, like a doe had entered the meadow and I didn’t want to frighten her.

How to talk to her was a serious thing. I needed to break her dislike of me and possibly give in to some info dispersing.

Well, she doesn’t like me, but she seemed to care for Ronaldo.

Start there.

“Have you heard anything from Ronaldo?”

I pitched my voice soft and gentle. I didn’t want her to think I was asking about her relationship.

I do sneaky well.

She turned and I almost waited for her eyes to turn hard.

They softened.

She smiled a bit.

“He’s good.” She brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. “He’s getting settled into his place.”

I decided to play my hole card. I went all in.

“I miss him…we were kind of friends.”

She tilted her head to the side.

She smiled at me. I am not kidding.

“Me too.”

I went for broke.

I leaned in. It was one of those moves that forces the other person to reciprocate. Its like yawning.

I lowered my voice.

“What’s the word with his son?”

She looked around out of reflex. She leaned in.

I am in a full ass clench in anticipation.

“Ronaldo said-”

AND THE GODDAM MANAGER ASKED HER TO CHECK SOMETHING IN THE BACK.

She nodded at me and took off.

Are you kidding me?

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Posted by on October 19, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Open Seseme…

Oscar the grouch.

Represent, bitches.

Oscar was a grumpy shit way back when. Back when you were young enough to get in trouble for being in a bad mood.

I think it had to do with living in a trash can and being the unspoken homeless guy on the show.

Bert and Ernie had a house and they didn’t seem to have jobs at all. They were either mediocre kids, living without parents or retarded adults who might be gay.

Take your pick.

Back to Oscar.

I seem to end up dealing with the homeless a lot on this blog and I can’t figure out if it is an obsession or just good choices on writing content.

I saw a new Muppet Movie is coming out and it got me thinking about Oscar.

Oscar came at us during a time in our life when we were being bombarded with vanilla, black and white views of life. The cartoons reflected either a good guy or a bad guy. The good guys were always good and the bad guys were always bad.

And then there was Oscar.

Oscar was a good guy that bitched about everything. but everyone seemed to like, and he was just kind of made fun of, but he spoke his mind and was more or less accepted by the majority.

All without getting a time out.

I am seeing scary similarities between myself and Oscar.

And, in a way, I kind of like that.

Oscar pretty much demanded that you accept him and his shitty attitude at face value. He taught us to be pushy and outspoken way before that was allowed by school or our parents.

And never once did he get the recognition.

Hell, some of us have personalities based on it.

Willy the grouch.

Has a nice little ring to it, ay?

When my kids were growing up, I started watching Sesame Street again. I was a little twisted up by it at first.

The Muppets were puppets and never aged, so all my old friends were still vibrant and funny.

But the people changed.

They were older and what was once friendly and helpful was now kind of creepy and moist? and made me afraid to leave my kids alone in the same room with them.

But I got over it and sat with my daughter and clapped and sang. Daddy stuff.

And then your kids grow up and, at least mentally, you put the Muppets on the shelf again.

Until the grand kids show up. Then you can watch again.

And I will still be creeped out by the overly sugary-sweet delivery of the cast of humans then, too.

But the Muppets will still be there.

And, fuzzy pound for fuzzy pound, Kermit the Frog is the elder statesman of childrens television. He kicks the shit out of Spongebob with one thin furry arm held behind his back with a little black stick.

And he will bitch slap Hello Kitty without working up a sweat.

Although, Hello Kitty has a Japanese following that is fanatical and well monied, so maybe that’s a bad comparison.

Getting back to Oscar the Grouch, I like to think he was a roll model for some, if not all of us.

He catered to the inner asshole.

Thank you Oscar.

I would follow you into Muppet hell, you magnificent fuzzy bastard.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on September 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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To rebut is human……to forgive is not.

I am a little angry today.

So what else is new?

I have received a second email from an anonymous source about the “Ronaldo’s Son” blogs. The first was a simple admonishment about being harsh.

Fine, I sent back a “Sorry you feel that way” email and asked them to post on the blog page. I prefer to make a public scene.

The second was more, and I take it personal.

Despite my request that I would rather you comment on the blog on the actual blog page, Ms. X has elected to continue emailing.

Fine.

Then I will rebut all the lines of your email here.

First of all, eat me.

I have never read anything this pathetic in my life. Every soft-headed platitude in the book or books is there.

“An addict is not responsible for his actions.”
Two things. First, Ronaldo never said his son was an addict, I never said his son was an addict. Second? Bull! We are all responsible for our actions. An addict always has the option of getting help.

“Walk a mile in his shoes before you judge him.”
I could be in the Battan Death March in his Nikes before I would shit on my father to the degree this piece of garbage has.

“Judge not lest ye be judged.” Ah, biblical. Mathew. Sermon on the mount. It was part of a sermon on ostentation and not meant to be a “get out of jail free” sinners card.

The really interesting thing is that, for all of these dark and dour crimes, you assume he is an addict and auto forgive all of his actions.

What about me?

How do you know this isn’t my 11th out of 12 steps or something? Where is the automatic assumption that I too, am an addict. Where the hell is my auto-forgiveness?
(According to MyAddiction.com Caffeine is a really serious one too. All of my behavior is now golden. Yah!)

Back on subject.

I know a little something about addiction. I have family that is in the rehab biz and the general consensus is that taking responsibility for your actions is in there somewhere. It is also one of the twelve steps.

But lets look at all the people you have turned your back on in favor of the Demon Son.

Ronaldo. The meth lab on the premises gets his retirement-funding house seized. It also is a huge betrayal of his parent. (This is a biblical issue too, or did you miss that?)

The girls. Smuggled into this country and forced to do drugs and make porn films. A sizeable portion of their life is ruined. I hope they get some peace down the road on this one. I see them as victims.

The parents of the girls. They will most likely find out at some point. Could be the biggest nightmare a parent could face.

Anyone in the film distribution chain that is simply trying to make a living. They have been given films that contain illegal actors. I assume the economy sucks all over and they can’t afford hits to their bottom line either.

Because actions speak louder than words, I have a challenge for you. When Ronaldo’s son gets out of jail, take him and Charles Manson as room mates.

Let me know how that goes.

You may as well go fishing with Fredo, because you are dead to me.

So, to sum up, take your excuses, your platitudes, your obvious self-issues, your blind eye forgiveness to any crime that does not directly affect you…..

And stick them. In the biblical sense.

Have a nice day…………..ass.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on September 8, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Time to pay the fiddler…

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.

How sad.

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.

 
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Posted by on September 6, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Sin’s of the son……..

I have a tendency to focus on the loud, the larger than life, conflict. Kind of like the Predator in the movie by the same name, but no one dies or gets shot by Arnold Schwarzenegger.

However, if you are a maid by trade, you do run the risk of being sexually harassed by him, and/or impregnated by him. On the plus side, the hush money rocks.

Ronaldo, an old man that is in Starbucks more than I am, likes to read every word in the LA times. All the killer moments you love to read about so much? He has witnessed them all.

I first noticed him months ago, but never got the chance to talk to him.

It seems that he has several children, including one son that, when he mentioned him several weeks ago, was a very successful businessman.

Ronaldo has several houses in Manhattan Beach. One house, in particular, is his pride and joy, He and his first wife bought the house near 50 years ago. 20 years ago, he tore it down and rebuilt it into a palace. The description is incredible.

Why do we care?

Excellent question, heres why.

Ronaldo is angry at his son. The son manages the house which Ronaldo was told had been rented to a wealthy young family.

Turns out thats bullshit.

Ronaldo was contacted by the police and informed that there had been several arrests on the property and he may lose the house.

Got your attention? It gets better.

Turns out that Ronaldo’s son was lying thru his teeth and had actually rented the place to himself, under an assumed name. (Turns out he wasn’t paying the rent either, to his own father.) And he was running several businesses out of it.

Porn films were being shot on site, the 3 car garage had been converted to a sound stage. Some of the films are being investigated concerning the age of the actors.

Also, a number of the actresses found on the premises were illegal, and may have been held against their will and forced to perform.

A meth lab was in operation.

Ronaldo’s son is a piece of work.

Ronaldo is an older man, apparently in good health, this however has given him chest pains that he has refused to do anything about. His daughter has finally prevailed and is taking him to the doctor today.

Normally, I am delighted with situations like this and type away with glee. But this is just so fucking sad.

But, as I have found thru the wretched soap opera that is my life, shit happens. Shit can often happen in a manner so foul that the “Shit-edness” shocks the hell out of you.

Like Ronaldo. His kid, who has a degree and did have a healthy business portfolio.

Now, from the looks of it, he is going to have a sore ass from prison rape. At least he will if there is any justice in the world.

Every time there is a horrid thing that happens in the media and whoever did it goes free, someone will pipe up with “Oh, don’t worry, karma is a bitch, they’ll get theirs.

Bullshit.

If karma was at all consistent we would not need laws to begin with.

Karma is a bitch. A whiny little bitch that has not been pulling its weight. I say we throw karma into jail with Ronaldo’s son and let them both be sodomized.

Because what goes around comes around, even for Karma.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on August 24, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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