Wednesday, March 12, 2008


Without a computer it's been next to impossible to keep up a blog. But, due to recent events, I had to make the trek down the hill to GNJohn's and use the DFF computer just to get some shit off my chest. There's been this swirl of activity around me that I figure I have to somehow document while fresh. Also admitting to a bit of shodenfrauda (or shoesofthehobbit) syndrone, it's always better when the shit's happening to someone else. I could CHANGE THE NAMES...BUT WHY BOTHER.
It all started with a phone call from Chuckles. He had gotten an email from our mutual friend Don East in Paris, concerning another "MF" Pete Schector and his wife and baby Sue and Pauline. Seems one day about a month ago Pete was taking down fence line on the Schector family's new horse farm in Ithaca when out comes Sue complaining of a bout of cabin fever. Pete suggests grabbing a couple of checks, for over 100k laying on the counter and the baby. and driving into town to deposit them. "Just beep the horn when you're ready." he says. About an hour later he sees her pull the car up the driveway, beep, wave....but no stop. He's puzzled. As it starts to get dark, puzzlement turns to worry. He calls the cell. Voice mail picks up. It would be 3 days before Pete heard from his wife. Whatthefuck...? By midnight he's a basket case. Now what happens next I'm a little fuzzy on. We'll get back to it.
Figuring this story is coming at me from Chuckles via Dave East I needed confirmation. I called Pete and it took a week or two for him to get back to me. In the mean time Shewho was expected and i had to wash my dishes and sweep out the shack. Then at the last minute her mom got sick and she had to fly to Cali. Being the good daughter she is, Shewho got her mom put in the hospital and pumped up with God knows what to control the pain. The only problem was the dosage was wrong. At last report moms thought she had been whisked off the Thailand for a little organ harvesting. "But mom...look out the window. You see? There's California." Of course she couldn't see because her neck was in a brace and she faced the TV set. I don't blame her for being suspicious. Plus I could really use a liver. In any case i wasn't getting any for the weekend and poor Shewho had to deal with her mother checking everywhere for incisions and looking down her nose at her. "Mother PULLEEZE. I did not take a kidney."
Then there's Slick and his Mexican MTV star who he flies off to see every couple of weeks in Mexico City. For some reason he calls me from the wedding of two of the richest and most powerful families in Mexico to catch up. Uzi toting bodyguards on shopping expeditions and the actual Olympic torch highlight his tryst in MC. I tell him when the revolution comes the "Gringo Jew" will be the first to fall. He doesn't seem fazed. There's more regarding mistaken airports, lost cell phones, back drawings and a car wash, but it got way too complicated. I only have so much time. Another friend who has sworn me to secrecy has a real juicy one involving gay sex, TV, (also cell phones) and fake appendages...but i can't get into it. I wish i could. Oh....back to Pete.
So after finally getting in touch with him, I drive up to Ithaca to commiserate with PS. He runs down the story pretty much the same as I got it from Chuckles. The wife left, with no warning, out of the blue, took the kid and is filing for divorce. The grounds? Who the fuck knows. I suggest we go to town to check out Cornell coeds and have some Mexican food. Poor Petey. During our lunch we get talking about NYS politics, just to get off the tragedy of his exploded nuclear family. "Who's the governor of NY?" he asks. I can't remember. I ask the waitress. She can't remember. Then it comes to me. "Spitzer.' I say. Oh yeah. They both nod. By the time we get back to the house the Gov.'s problems have hit the internet. So you think you've got problems. Even Pete feels better.
So after a week of sobriety, today I finally scored some weed, had a burger and beer at Dutch's in Rock Hill, and watched Spitzer resign on the bar TV. One of the guys sitting at the bar spots my front license plate. "Jesus helps me trick people? What's that about?" he asks. I shrug. "Just giving you fair warning." I say and buy him a beer. "Guess he's not tricking me today!" he says with a big grin. Don't be so sure.