I try being a Capitalist
Ok we have all done things we are not particular proud of. Times when our moral compass goes a bit wonky and we wobble off course.
It was The end of the marriage fight. The ‘That’s it I’m so out of here’ moment.
“Ohh Yeh” Say he, “Where do you think your going to go?”
“I’m going to Chicago and become a stockbroker that’s what!”
((HU?? What the Fuck did I just say?”))
I was a housewife working part time in a coffee shop. I lived in Anchorage Alaska, (Yeh that’s right I could see Sarah Palins tit’s from my house.) So any way this whole me moving to Chicago and becoming a stock broker came as a complete surprise to me.
Well having said it, in that particular circumstance, clearly I had no choice. Two weeks later I was living in Chicago enrolled in a baby stockbroker program.
I moved into my apartment before my furniture. I had my suite cases and a couple of blankets I curled into on the floor. I didn’t even have a radio. If I had had a radio I might have known why people were rioting in the streets and over turning cars in the street below my apartment. Then again I may not have as the only basket ball game I have ever watched was the time the Globe trotters came to Bangor and my Grandparents took us kids to see them. They seemed to have a jolly good time and the music was good.
I have an almost complete lack of interest in the subject of sports. So much so it’s hard for me to even begin to understand what people find so entertaining about it. So the day I moved into my apartment apparently some basketball team the city was particularly fond of won a basketball game. It was the third game in a row that they had won or championship or some such thing called a threepete or something like it. In celebration of their teams win people decided that rioting was the way to go.
Peeking out my window at the burning car below all I could think was a civil war had started and I had no idea which side I should be on.
Becoming a stockbroker was easier then I had thought. Turns out all you have to do is pass a test, and it’s multiple choice.
I was hired by a woman who introduced herself with a firm hand shake .
“Hi, it’s nice to met you, I don’t like to hire women, their lazy and don’t like to work hard.”
(My Heavens, she’s not wearing any pantyhose, and with her skirt so tight I’m pretty such even a thong would leave panty lines.)
She sat down and crossed her legs. Very short skirt. She had nice shoes, I thought they must have been very uncomfortable without panty hose.
No college degree, spotty work history (at best), the fact that I was former Army seemed to impress her. I exuded confidence to her. It wasn’t confidence really but it opposite. The entire Enterprise was so mad so, yeh right the stripper really does become a prima ballerina, fairy tale, you don’t even think about failure. Failure is a forgone conclusion , it’s all about making losing as interesting a process as possible.
Getting hired, I did not expect.
There were over 100 brokers in that office. Three female brokers, (female stock brokers who were not married to another broker in that office and or sleeping with another broker in that office——0)
So there I sat in the front row of the class room for us baby brokers in training, looking all spiffy in my spanking new suit. I am handed a book that weighs 20 pounds. There is a teacher standing in front of a chalk board.
“The only test harder then this is the test for the bar.” He begins. “Most people fail the first time.”
That all sounded intimidating. After all people go to college for years preparing for the bar.
So the teacher a nice Santa if he wore a suite and went corporate sort began his talking and chalking up the board and I’m paying right close attention. After the first hour he turns to me.
“Your not taking any notes?” He asked.
“I take lousy notes. Look you gave me this book that weighs 20 pounds, is there anything your going to be talking about here that isn’t in the book? “
“Well then I guess I shall just pay attention to you here and read the book at home.’
He felt it necessary to once more go over how hard the test was and how many people don’t pass the first time out.
So anyway I passed the test. The head broker of the office (who the woman who hired me was sleeping with) decided to take all his new baby brokers out for a night of celebration.
The night began with a cab ride. The cab was driven by a Pakistani, so my fello passengers filled the air with camel jokes. At a stop light a couple of Hasidic jews walk past.
(Well the Arabs and Jews now have reason to unite against a common enemy) I thought as I tried to slide down to the floor of the cab .
We went to dinner,
Benihani. Making racist jokes about Asians while an Asian man is juggling extremely sharp knives three inches in front of your face seems to me to be a bad idea , in any circumstances.
Another cab ride.
A Black Comedy Club in the south side of Chicago.
We had our own special section, roped off from the rest of the audience. We were the only white people in the place. We were all white, expect for this one poor fellow who was half Jewish and half African American so totally conflicted, and this other fello who was Indian but he was a Brahmin married to a Blond Hair Blue eyed German so by any objective measure, qualified ,as whiter then I.
Half way through the show the MC came on stage and said.
“OK now, you white boys better hush up now or ya all goin’ ta get lynched.”
1am South side of Chicago, I lived about a mile past wriggly field. I walked home. A white gal walking in her spiffy new business suite from the south side of Chicago at 1am praying with every step that I would get murdered before I had to show up to work on Monday.
well I joined up when I was 18 for two reasons. 1. as a feminist, equal rights meaning equal responsibility. In this country historically all equality in civil rights has been preceded by service in the military. So I wanted to do my part, when taking a stand for civil rights and equality, service counts. The second reason, because I was a dedicated hippy dippy lefty liberal. I suppose that may seem odd. You may suppose a person of my natural inclination would go peace corps not hard core.
One, for the philosophic reason, what ever you oppose you need to understand. For me the whole military mind set was such a foreign country I just had to try the venture. And thinking ahead to future arguments, knowing I was a hippy dippy liby lefty, I wanted to have the trump card to “If you don’t love you country leave it.” ‘Been there done that, wore the combat boots, so shut the bleep up.’
Joining the Army so I could win an argument I might have some day, may seem a bit odd. All I can say is, I really hate to lose an argument.
I started out to be an interrogator. It sounded like a pretty cool job. Very James Bond ohh and a top secret security clearance, your 18 that’s just tit’s cool. So I went to fort Huachuahua in Arizona for the interrogation school. I quickly discovered that I had absolutely no interest in how many 9mm makaraof pistols Interrogation subject X may have in the 2nd motorized rifle platoon of the third motorized rifle company.
‘hold on a minute here, James Bond never had to take inventory.’
Yeh I flunked out. Well what would expect with a gal who starts an interrogation with
‘ok you know what? Don’t talk to me, I don’t want to hear it, I brought a book,’ They kept me on longer then they would have another marginal solider because for awhile there they thought I was being very cleaver, getting people to talk with reverse psychology.
So anyway with this that and the other I ended up in water purification, and learning to run the water purification equipment was cool. I was the first female they had ever trained in the field. And no sooner then I had gotten all through training and my first posting in Germany, it was decided that water purification was too close to ‘the battle field’ for a female. So anyway between this and that I ended up answering phones and taking inventory.
“My only problem with guns is that they make it far too easy for stupid people to kill me.”
and I tell ya that exorcist gal who piddled on the carpet caused less of a ruckus then I did with what I thought was a pretty mild statement. I wasn’t even hinting at taking guns away from stupid people. With that one fairly mild statement a seemingly reasonable rational woman is transformed into a screaming ( I hope she doesn’t chuck the meatloaf at me ) nut job.
I am now the enemy. The socialist comunist take your guns away big brother loves you hippy freak.
(Ohh god lord I do have a talent for saying precisely the wrong thing. If only I could learn to use this power for good.)
Because some one is now screaming at you, you feel the spines start to come out the eyes are going cat feral, the teeth are growing sharp behind a polite smile. You want to snap her heels together like a drill Sargent to a fresh boot.
You have a ‘support our troops’ bumper sticker on your car.
I served in the army
you ‘wanted’ to join the army but couldn’t lose enough weight to even qualify for boot camp.
Your husband of 5 years, is a nice fellow but, he is grand negas of the local masons secret hide out
My (ex now but 15 years married to ) was Army EOD that is bomb squad for you civilians,
I have owned guns, shot guns. I once got tossed out of Canada for trying to drive through a bit of Canada with my gun locked and un loaded in the trunk of my car. The Canadians were very polite but quite firm. And told me to just go away and not try and slip back across the border again, any time soon. But say like maybe in the spring you can come back eh? I was very embarrassed.
I don’t say any of that. She is a nice lady,,usually. I keep my snark in check. I try, very nicely, (I’m not yelling unlike some people) to explain.
She calls me naive
my head explodes. It’s not a big sound, just a small little pop.
This from a woman who once got a butterfly tattooed on her shoulder and to this day thinks, that was daring.
As a retired whore there are a number of names I rather expected to be called….naive was not one I had ever considered. Ok sure I look like a perfectly normal person. It’ not like I have retired whore tattooed on my forehead. Not even sporting a red Letter A on my clothes. (though I have considered it but decided it would come off more Laverne and Shirley then as a political statement against puritanism. )
But.. seriously how many dicks do you have to suck before that shiny penny nimbus erodes? And what ever that number is, I’m pretty gol dern danged sure I done past it waay back a when.
And she is still yelling at me.
‘If you had EVER, any experience with crime and or bad guys, you’d change your mind then. “ I retire to the living room pouring myself an extra large drink on the way.
why ohh why is it always me who has to be polite to people who yell stupid shit at me? I’m the crazy person. I have fucking papers saying I’m the crazy person. I’m the paranoid wack job here. If anyone’s going to be yelling about crime guns and conspiracies I feel it should be me.
But it isn’t,
it never is.
(She had envisioned a quest like this for as long as she could recall,
But on the threshold of it, she found herself hesitating. This was not make believe any more)
(It was almost like serendipity.. or manipulation on a brilliant scale Luke Romyn slaves of vallhalla)
I know how mad this is,.
And I know how confused you are,,
I mean if this were real. Really real,
It wouldn’t be here,
Just some mad silly blog
you came across, you looked at cause, what the heck,
If this were real. It wouldn’t be here. It would be in the papers or something. There would be lawyers and official people with important letters behind their names. To tell you ,to let you know, this is so.
Allow me to elucidate the method to my madness.
I do not accept the diagnosis of my madness. I acknowledge that I am in the minority opinion regarding this. But since I’m the only one who might get killed here, my opinion is the only one I listen to.
On the good side no one has tried to kill me since I left San Francisco. There were those gang bangers that had a bit of a brawl on my porch but I beat them off with a wet mop. Nothing like a dirty wet mop in the face to take to fight out of a guy. But other then that, all quiet on the eastern front.
So far. Course so far, I’m just a mad woman yittering away on a mad little blog. I am utterly ignorable. I doubt Boccie has given me a thought at all in the past few years. Course that could change.
Sooner or later Boccie will get that e-mail,, someone one is saying terrible things about you,,
I am not expecting him to send out the zoo crew this time. Really now what would be the point except to prove my sanity and who would want that? And if I did get all dramaticly shot up, I guess the book would get published and on that nice Oprah’s gals book list. Nothing like a dead mad whore to boost sales.
It’s not like killing me would shut me up. Ahhh too late for that, far to late. This mad little blog is already out there, your reading it right now. Go ahead try and put that pony back in the barn.
Course I’ve done the CYA thing. So very mellow dramatic “keep this just in case anything ya know messy happens to me.” Left the info needed to update my blogs, the RIP post I hope wont ever be needed. I figure between that and my twitter peeps and a few other social sites I’ve left the info for, well I figure nothing like a murder to get retweeted all to hell and back.
Boccie could try and send lawyers after me.
Defences to claims of defamation include:
Statements made in a good faith and reasonable belief that they were true are generally treated the same as true statements; however, the court may inquire into the reasonableness of the belief. The degree of care expected will vary with the nature of the defendant: an ordinary person might safely rely on a single newspaper report, while the newspaper would be expected to carefully check multiple sources.
Opinion is a defence recognized in nearly every jurisdiction. If the allegedly defamatory assertion is an expression of opinion rather than a statement of fact, defamation claims usually cannot be brought because opinions are inherently not falsifiable. However, some jurisdictions decline to recognize any legal distinction between fact and opinion. The United States Supreme Court, in particular, has ruled that the First Amendment does not require recognition of an opinion privilege.
Basically, Boccie in a court of law would have to : A. Prove that he is now and was then nothing more then a legitimate business man with no connections to all the bad stuff I talk about.
B. Then he would have to prove that I am now and was then a sane person. You see you can say stuff that’s just wrong, that’s not libel. Makes you a bit of a fool but not a liar.
I have long detailed papers all signed by doctors all saying I’m a mad person with a paranoid delusion that her former landlord is a mobster.
I think that would be a fun trial to attend. Some one in court trying to prove me sane. I may just try my hand at law for that one and defend myself.
There is a wonderful freedom that comes with being a mad person. It’s like getting a permanent free hall pass in school. ( I had one by the way, that’s what they give you when you skip class to go to the library. )
Ok so career wise I can’t even get a job as walmart greeter, I mean it;s not official or anything but hey get real, you have a job application from someone. You google, right? Everyone does, and there you really want to hire someone who is front page crazy? And smokes?
It’s cool I understand, and lets get real I was a lousy employee. I told my last boss to “shut the hell up.” she came down with laryngitis the next day, couldn’t talk for two weeks. Yeh that was pretty much the end of that job.
So being a crazy person is bad for the career, but it’s not anything I was ever going to be good at any way so meh.
The good part is I can say or do any god damned thing I want to and “What? I’m a crazy person, what really do you expect.? I haven’t burned down anything in years, A standard of expectations I find easy enough to exceed. Aim for the stars and all that jazz meh I rather prefer having exceptions set so low I can perfectly ignore their existence.
But am I mad enough? Now that is an interesting dilemma. I look like a perfectly normal sane person I talk like a perfectly normal sane person. (one with the sort of vocabulary that makes people think I’m really smart). So how on earth am I to justify all those papers? Having to constantly explain to people that I’m a mad person is just so socially awkward .
Of course I could just not talk about it at all, but you do get into all that where were you when and what did you do? Discussions that lead to either to lengthy explanations which people don’t believe anyway and then they are annoyed with me for lying, or I lie which does have the effect or making people happier with me but results in me becoming unreasonably cranky.
So I have to be mad in some way apparent but not scary mad, after all I’m a pyro so I kinda feel it’s incumbent on me to be reassuring. I have been trying to develop into a charming eccentricity. Cute, people think I’m cute, addled but cute. Took me just 50 years to pull that off. By the time I’m 70 I may just be able to manage adorable.
Richard J Bocci Realty
194 School St
Daly City, CA 94014
Just poping around the internet like I do ya know and in Yahoo buniess reviews I find these regarding my dear old friend Boccie
from Anthoney J.
Avoid!! I gave them a written notice to move out 2 months prior to moving out and the manager simply said he couldn’t find the note and charge me the remaining month. Also, they took so much money from deposit. Mine was $1300 but eneded up getting back $300. Even that was afterfighting with them. When i called to make a case, they said “don’t try to sound smart”. I mean if they are renting the property to college students mostly, they really need to learn to deal with them. seriously A.V.O.I.D
Don’t Mess with these folks! They don’t play around when it comes to their money. Once you get done with legal fees you will have paid 6 months in rent. Don’t believe them that if you loose your job they will work with you. Not too mention if you are under rent control and they want you gone
It was not my intention to fight a war with the mob. (Still don’t know if Boccie is real mobster are just a rich dick who acts like one) I just wanted to be left in peace to read some good books, and tend to my beading. I’m a quiet sort,, when left on my own.
But Boccie tried to have me killed and that did irate me.
At first it was a defensive battle. Heck I’m just a gal with a stubborn streak facing down a gaggle of hired thugs, (all I presumed armed) a win you don’t get. Maybe at best a stalemate, live and let live, I ignore your shit you leave me the fuck alone. Or maybe pay me to go the fuck away deal. I’ll deal but I wont be pushed.
After I figured out their nifty keen booby trap, well it became more then clear that Boccie wasn’t going to be at all reasonable.
I set the fire in my apartment deliberately, with the intention of being sent to a mental institution as a danger to self and others. A mental institution was one place I was pretty sure Boccie wouldn’t be able to kill me in. When you can’t get the police to protect you, well any port in a storm.
It was a bit of a gamble.
Arson after all is a pretty big bad and does get one set to the big house. I kinda thought that would be very bad for my health. I was pretty sure that Boccie would not file charges, would not want me talking in court. Not, mind you, that I thought arson as self defense would have much of a chance.. But if your in the Mob or doing Mobster type big bad things, you most likely don’t want your name in court records saying your doing bad things.
An innocent man would have no fear of a crazy person yittering on about his imaginary connections to murder and drugs. A guilty man wants not even the whisper of ill repute attached to his name.
Once in the MHRF it was a waiting game. Really I had no exit plan other then to wait for the right opportunity. Given enough time, something almost always happens.
The talks with Burt, was just something I did to pass the time. The conversations happened and covered the topics I have recounted in the blog. I have taken some liberties with it all, only in condensing long conversations spread out over weeks to a single conversation.
The closing of the MHRF.
Broken people need to be cared for.
This is a standard of proper civilized behavior I had well before Boccie became a pain in my ass. The measure of a society is in how it cares for the weak the helpless and the broken. the city deciding to stop caring for it’s broken, well it pissed me off, in a deeper way then Boccie. (Mind you attempted murder is a class of rudeness that I don’t forgive or forget) still he was attacking me, the city was choosing to inflict pain on the most helpless, the most vulnerable and why? Because the weak are easy targets.
HOW DARE YOU!!
How dare you, you in all your comforts and privileges, How dare you in your ease ask the most burdened by pain to shoulder more? How dare you with a full belly and padded expense account ask the hungry to give you bread? How dare you in your Egyptian cotton sheets roll out of bed to steal the pillow from the shelter less?
This isn’t new, look around you. Look look actually look at the people laying lost and broken on our city streets. We have gotten so used to the sight we don’t see them any more. Human pigeons, and we treat them like pigeons, ignoring them, sometimes (often) complaining about their need to shit, (
FYI the need to shit doesn’t end when you don’t have a bathroom) and sometimes tossing them a few crumbs, cause it makes us feel good and it’s kinda cute seeing them scrambling around for your ‘treats’.
So yah it was my intention to turn back the tide just this once just here. a small win, Keep the MHRF open so some people would get some care. I didn’t expect to win. It was at best a long shot with so many things that had to fall into place. But in the words of Han Solo, “Kid, never tell me the odds.”
Where do I go from here?
Now here I’m stuck. I’ve done what I set out to do, and I’ve written it all down. yaaa me. Honestly I didn’t think I would ever get the writing of it done. Well I say done, but it’s not, I suck as a writer. I do want to publish it all as a book but, so much yet to do and I don’t know if I have it in me to finish. the editing the polishing, the legal end, who do I send this too? ahh balls.. I’ll figgure it out. I always do.; But heck if anyone wants to join in. I’m open to just about anything. anyone want to ghost write? ‘as told to’ based on a true story, the byline is all yours. I don’t have any money but it is a good story, (even if you don’t believe me to be anything but mad)
any how you have any questions or just want to drop me a line telling me to shut the hell up. (I won’t but but you can tell me to if it pleases you)
e mail firstname.lastname@example.org
facebook adrienne warren
Hey di how everybody keep up the good fight, care for the helpless, and have a sun sunny sun shine day.