trick or treat, Key West

Devil or Angel

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work mule

This post today probably isn’t my most joyous ever.

Jerry Weinstock, M.D., Psychiatry, wrote yesterday:

great white

went fishing all day —beautiful

I replied:

I go fishing when I publish each day’s raving. No telling what manner of sea creatures might rise to the bait :-), or high-tail it.

Deer Ed, owner-operator of’s popular Coconut Telegraph forum, wrote yesterday:

Mud Dawg's guardian angel

I can’t afford a therapists so I bought a mood ring.

Facebook thread started the other day, my last comments were made this morning, all Hallows Eve, when the spirit realms are closest to the human realm.

Hi Sloan…..Just checking in on you….haven’t seen you at Harpoons for a couple days. Hoping everything is good. A fellow came in yesterday looking for a fellow named Sloan Bashinsky that he played handball with in Birmingham…He hung out for a bit… I asked him to write a note with his name and info but he declined and said just tell you hello . ??? anyway…See you soon.

  • Sloan Bashinsky Hi, Debbie – dang, I wonder who he is? I did play handball at the downtown Bham YMCA back in the late 1960s and early 1970s. I wonder how he knew to look for me at Harpoon Harry’s? Can you describe him? Height, hair, weight, approximate age. Two fellows come to mind; one knows I live in Key West. He used to get my daily emails, but that email account died several months ago and I lost his email address. He’d be maybe late 70s or 80 now, about 5 ft, 9 inches, friendly face, left-handed But I imagine he would have his wife with him. I’ve been eating in, mostly, due to cash shortage, duration unknown presently. Hope you are okay. Thanks.
  • Mike Tolbert Somebodys husband? Who you been up to sloan?
  • Sloan Bashinsky You smoking something weird, Mike?
  • Debbie G Scardina Yes… the fellow who came in sounds like the guy you described.. Not sure about left-handed ..and I think closer to 70. The wife may have been outside cause he kept looking out the door..they may have eaten..I not sure.. See you soon…
  • Mike Tolbert Only thing weird in my life is my friends sloan. Wanna go trick or treating tomorrow?
  • Sloan Bashinsky Had all the trick or treating from the angels last night that I could stand for a few lifetimes. Boy, were they not happy with the first part yesterday’s the sacred feminine and her ways, various Key West observatory sightings post, which was prompted by the same angels hitting me with several dreams the night before to write about that Florida Keys mother whose 2-month-old child had died in its sleep. I had read the Citizen article the day before, thought about it, decided to leave it alone. Then the angels dragged me into it. What upset the angels was I didn’t use “a soft touch”. They didn’t bother to tell me to use a soft touch. The week before, they had maimed me in dreams for wanting to use “a soft touch” with my father’s widow and his lawyer, about them providing me with an advance of 1/2 of my next inheritance. One thing I left out of yesterday’s article, which certainly did cross my mind, was Manny Cuervo, the sheriff detective assigned to investigate the 2-month old child’s death, was the detective hot to prosecute and put in prison Sandy Downs’ son, Preston, which Sandy had prevented Cuervo from doing. By and by, 15 -year-old Preston was electrocuted on a tree trimming job in Key West, being done by Sandy and her husband Nick’s crew (Tarzan Tree Care). Sandy told me she was in the lower Keys hospital room with Preston’s body, grieving her heart and soul and guts and everything else out, and Cuervo came into the room and made her leave, so he could fingerprint Preston’s dead body relative to another case Cuervo had been trying to make on Preston. I saw the other day in the Citizen where Cuervo was given some kind of award for being a great detective. It was reported in the Citizen the day before yesterday that Cuervo said he saw no indication of foul play in the death of the 2-month old child. The way some things swirl around, and back around, gets tiresome sometimes, to say it as kindly as I can.
  • Sloan Bashinsky I told Sandy, because of the constant pressure and threat Cuervo was to Preston, that Preston’s soul had enough and decided to leave this life. Sort of like I wrote yesterday about my infant son’s soul making much the same decision. Nothing soft about a child dying suddenly. At least not for the child’s parents. There is no way to begin to imagine what the parents feel, unless you have had a perfectly healthy child die suddenly.
  • Sloan Bashinsky I still have 15-year-old Preston’s t-shirt Sandy had done to memorialize him. On the front, under “LIVE LIFE”, is his photo, driving a skiff, his handsome, friendly, smiling face turned back toward the camera. On the back is Preston’s philosophy: “You can’t get to where you want to go, if you only travel on sunny days.”

Here is the text of the email I was ORDERED by the angels to send, or else, a few days ago to my father’s widow and his lawyer:

writing quill

Dear Joann and John,

With great reluctance I write this letter after having a dream in which my father told me I had balked at doing work for his company, which he had asked me to do. For not doing that work, I would lose, he said. I replied that he would lose, too. He did not disagree. It was his way, when he was alive, to put me to do what he did not want to take care of.

I awoke from the dream knowing I had balked at sending you both a letter I reluctantly had drafted, saying I’d had dreams over several days and nights pushing me to ask you for an advancement of one-half of my second $1,000,000 inheritance from my father’s estate.

And knowing I had balked at including in the letter that I feel I am back in late 1999, when I was told by Jesus, Archangel Michael and Melchizedek to write to my father and tell him I, and two friends of mine, one was Aubrey Loftis, had been told in dreams that I had an older brother named Travis. So I wrote to my father, and his answer was not to include me in the Christmas stock he gave to his children each year. Whereupon, Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek told me to change my name to Sloan Young and renounce all of my inheritances from my father, and notify him that I had done that, and also notify my daughters and their mother and my brother, Major, and my sister, Elizabeth, that I had done that, all of which I did because of who told me to do it. I think I recall also notifying you of that, John.

And I feel I am back in the fall of 2003, after the same three, Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek, told me to reverse what they had had me do, which I did, and then they sent me to Tuscaloosa to try to gain an audience with my father, who, in dreams, had encouraged me to use you and your law firm, John, to bring that off. What ended up happening was Sam Frazier emailed me that my father wanted me to meet with the two of you, John, instead. I wrote back that I did not travel from Key West to Tuscaloosa to meet with my father’s lawyers, but I would do so if the two of you came to Tuscaloosa. To my email, I received no reply. I then was shown in dreams to let that go. However, while I was in Tuscaloosa, I had a conversation with Dianne Baker, my first wife. She told me everything I wrote to my father was intercepted by Joann, and then was sent to Dianne for her to evaluate my state of mind and report that back to Joann and my father. That’s when I understood the letter I had written to my father about Travis had been intercepted by Joann.

And I feel I am back in latter September 2005, when my father came to me in a dream and said he had died before he could finish up some things he had wanted to do. I awoke not happy, because once again I was being put by him to try to take care of something he had not wanted to take care of. I awoke knowing I was to write to you, Joann, to ask you to give the $14,000,000 my father had left to you, to his grandchildren, including Suzanne’s son, Landon, and to Travis, in equal shares. So I emailed you, asking you to do that. Your answer was to block me out of your email account.

And I feel I am back in the winter of 2005, or maybe early 2006, and the $10,000 which had been advanced to me out of my father’s estate from my inheritance was mostly used up. I wrote a letter to you, John, saying I was living in a motel populated by prostitutes and drug addicts. I asked for a second advance, this time of $20,000. You replied you would have to run it by the other beneficiaries. Later you told me they did not agree to it, because they had not liked the $10,000 advance, which they also had received, and they did not want another advance to deal with. I was in your office. You seemed sympathetic, John. I understood Joann and others, John Stein, Owen Sims, Wally Nall, Jr. and Ed Pascoe probably were in on that decision. I thought to myself, maybe I even said it to you, John, “Interesting behavior for Christians.”

My father advanced Major part of his inheritance, which advance was deducted from what Major received on February 14, 2006. So there is precedent for this request, and here are the reasons for it.

Regardless of my efforts for decades, and how badly it upset my father when he was alive, and how badly is still upsets me, I remain unable to make a living wage doing what I am pretty good at, some of of which is chronicled at,, and

Now 72 years old, my physical health is bad and physical labor is not possible.

By the end of November, I will have little or no money other than my Social Security benefits, a little over $800 per month, less about $100 cut out for Medicare.

Since receiving the first $1,000,000 of my inheritance on February 14, 2006, I spent it approximately as follows, as directed by Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek.

$375,000, in the spring of 2006, for one acre of wooded land and a trailer next to a state wildlife refuge on Little Torch Key, about 25 miles above Key West. That was to be my home. I paid cash for it. When I was forced to sell it in August 2013, I netted $90,000, which amounted to a $285,000 loss due to a horrific crash in the real estate market down here, after I purchased the place. I might have gotten a little more if I had been able to wait out a better offer. When I closed and received the $90,000 net, I had about $200 in cash.

About $350, 000, I gave away. Most of that, about $300,000, was given to Brenda Garcia, who lives in Gainesville Georgia. I have supported her financially since just before my father passed over. She is gifted spiritually, and is being taken through a very rough go by angels of the Lord. She has a personality and physical conditions, which do not lend to her holding a paying job under so much pressure from the angels. I view her as an adopted daughter, who was given to me by Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek, for me to try to educate her about the ways of Spirit, and to keep her alive and not be homeless, which I was off and on between mid-2000 and February 14, 2006.

About $50,000 was given to other people I was told to help out, and to charities dedicated to stemming the continued despoiling of Florida and the Florida Keys by developers and their lawyers, real estate companies and elected politicians.

I don’t have records of those disbursements; there was no point from a tax standpoint, as I was not earning enough money to file tax returns.

$1,000,000, less $350,000 + $285,000 = $365,000, which I spent on myself and other projects Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek arranged for me to undertake.

Among those projects was running for public office seven times in the Florida Keys. Three times for county commission, three times for mayor of Key West, when I was living there, and one time for school board. I detest politics. I ran for office each time because I was told in dreams to run. Always, my perspectives and comments on issues in those seven races was different from the other candidates’. But for me, those perspectives would not have been raised. I never came close to getting elected, and probably would have fainted if I was elected.

I did not live extravagantly since receiving the first $1,000,000.

I did not live wildly.

I did not have a girlfriend.

I am not married, but often wish I was, or that I have a girfriend.

I do not drink alcohol or use any other drug.

I have lots of friends down here, and, I’m sure, lots of enemies.

I did not take expensive trips.

I have not been on an airplane since late 2000.

Once, in 2006, I drove from Litte Torch Key to Ft. Myers, for a 3-day American Contract Bridge district tournament.

A few times I drove to Birmingham for shortish stays.

For about six months in 2007, I had an apartment near Five Points South, which I was shown in a dream to rent. I had the dream in Key West, before I drove to Birmingham. I knew from the dream the location of the apartment building. I went straight to it after getting to Birmingham. They had one apartment for rent, I took it and paid the rent six months in advance. I did spirit work, which was given to me to do in Birmingham.

Not long after receiving the first $1,000,000 inheritance, I was told in my sleep, by a now familiar voice, in plain English: “Remember Daniel.” Daniel was the dreamer in the Old Testament, who was put to all sorts of tests and survived them, sometimes via miracle. In mid-2004, I had been told in my sleep by the same voice, “You need to dream, Sloan, so you will know what is really going on.” I am advised and corrected daily in dreams.

I suppose there are two other ways a $500,000 advance could be done.

Joann, I imagine you have sufficient funds left to you by my father, to make the $500,000 advance, as a loan, secured by repayment to your estate out of the second $1,000,000 of my inheritance.

My father’s endowment trust could make the $500,000 advance, secured my second $1,000,000 inheritance. The justification for that could be to help someone doing God’s work, which is what I have been doing for a very long time now. Not popular work, usually.

Maybe the loss on the sale of the Little Torch property would offset any interest income imputed to me, if the advance was a loan.

Perhaps you do not know, Joann, that after Major told our father not to marry you, and our father said he loved you and was going to marry you, Major was so upset that he moved to California. I learned of that from Major many years later.

Perhaps you also do not know, Joanne, that my father told me Major didn’t want the marriage to proceed, and how did I feel about that, and about him marrying you? I replied that I didn’t know you, I would not be married to you, I would not live with you. If he loved you and wanted to live out his days with you, then he should marry you regardless of how Major felt. My father thanked me, seemed truly grateful. He asked if I would be his best man and carry your wedding ring. I said I would be honored to do that.

Little did my father or I know how my being his best man would play out. God has a really weird sense of humor.


I decided not to say in the email, what had so upset Major was our father and Joann were having an affair for some time, and the affair continued after our mother contracted cancer and died fairly quickly.

On the rabid crusade to clean up Key West Fantasy Fest, finally, a movement toward sanity is reported in today’s Citizen –

light bulb

Friday, October 31, 2014 
Enforcement emerges as festival priority
BY MANDY MILES Citizen Staff
More enforcement of existing nudity laws and less involvement from the thriving online porn industry would go a long way toward returning Fantasy Fest to its creative roots.

Such was the sentiment Thursday evening among a group of nearly 25 residents who met informally in the Duval Street courtyard of Viva Zapata to discuss the direction and tone of past, current and future Fantasy Fests.

The group separated itself from the charge currently being led by former City Commissioner Harry Bethel, saying they have no interest in doing away with Fantasy Fest, or over-regulating it.

The Thursday night discussion group included bar employees, event promoters, a former Fantasy Fest king and queen, a professional, veteran body painter, a social media consultant and other concerned residents.

“No one here wants to do away with Fantasy Fest; I love Fantasy Fest,” said Joe Weed Clements, who informally moderated the gathering that was prompted by a Facebook discussion launched by social media consultant Kathryn Watkins. “But I think we all agree there are things that need to be toned down and we need enforcement of the current laws that already prohibit things like live sex acts and exposed genitalia.”

The public spectacle of live sex acts and blatant nudity on city streets has drawn the most heated criticism and concern in the past three or so years.

“I don’t mind the sex parties, the fetish parties or the swinger parties,” said longtime bartender and nonprofit coordinator Barbara Ramey. “But keep them indoors, not on the public city streets. As long as the doors are closed, then they’re fine. But this woman next to me does not need to see people having sex at the corner of Telegraph Lane and Caroline Street at 3 in the afternoon.”

Resident Jennifer Lloyd compared Fantasy Fest to other large-scale events she has attended, including Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Burning Man.

“They’re having the same discussions about nudity and vulgarity,” Lloyd said. “And during Fantasy Fest, I’ve noticed this push that’s coming from the porn industry, which is bringing in this element of vulgarity and public sex acts.”

She suggested the addition of a public art element to Fantasy Fest, perhaps at Truman Waterfront, where artists could camp for a few days while displaying their work.

Clements echoed the concern about the increased presence of the professional porn industry, as did body painter Joe Carter, who pointed out that some of the headline-grabbing sex acts that have taken place in public in recent years were staged by the owners and producers of online pornography sites, who were in town “staging these acts and seeking content for their paid websites,” Carter said.

Carter also said that he refuses to paint genitalia at his body painting booth.

“Unfortunately, though, with the rise of social media sites, the extreme examples are more in people’s faces than they’ve ever been before,” Carter said.

Another factor the group wants to evaluate are the advertising avenues for Fantasy Fest.

“Are we advertising Fantasy Fest in swingers magazines and on clothing-optional websites? Because that’s something that would impact the crowd we get here for the event,” one participant pointed out.

The group repeatedly emphasized their support of Fantasy Fest, and their desire for a return to its creative roots with regard to parade floats and costumes.

An email yesterday from Nick Anderson, of rural Key West (Big Coppit Key), perhaps sheds important light on that murky topic.

Nick Anderson

Dearest Sloan,

I protest at Mr. Harry Bethal Sr appearing with-out clothing at any time at Fantesy Fest or at any place.
I support the city leaders in banning Mr. Harry Bethal Sr appearing as such. Please help save the community standards of decenty and help Mr. Harry Bethal Sr. from offending the good decent citizens of this community with his appearance with out being fully clothed.
Make Mr. Harry Bethal Sr. be required to abide to community standards and not appear without fully cloths in Public
and bring fear to children and dogs and cats and goats and pigs and horses and iguanas and all plant life induginas to the Florida Keys.

Thank You
Nick Anderson
Rural Key West

Nick used to live in Truman Annex, but the rich and snooty folks living there didn’t like his big pickup truck, or his dog, or much of anything else about him, even though he probably richer than any of them. So he moved out and rented his unit to someone the rich and snooty would like even less, he said. Then, finally, he got tired of being a landlord and that hassle, so he gave the unit back to the bank holding the mortgage, and moved to rural Key West.

Perhaps Nick diagnosed what really is driving Harry Bethel’s rabid crusade against Fantasy Fest.

Harry Bethel

Harry Bethel, second from right; Mayor Craig Cates, far right, and going the other way, City Commissioners Billy Wardlow, Heather Carruthers, Jimmy Weekley, Tony Yaniz and Clayton Lopez; Commissioner Mark Rossi, below, not in photo

Mark Rossi

Plain and simple, Harry Bethel is ashamed of his own body and jealous of other people’s more pleasing bodies, and, I might conjecture, Harry has seriously big skeletons and hangups in his Halloween sex closet.

A wingnut I know pretty well in Birmingham, dating back to high school, sent this forward yesterday, owning it was nothing new, he’d seen it before, but it seemed especially timely now; I added the pic.

killing a politician

While walking down the street one day a Corrupt Senator (that may be redundant) was tragically hit by a car and died.

His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

“Welcome to heaven,” says St.. Peter.. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you..”

“No problem, just let me in,” says the Senator.

“Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from the higher ups. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”

“Really?, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,” says the Senator.

“I’m sorry, but we have our rules.”

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course.

In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They played a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and the finest wines and champagne.

Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who is having a good time dancing and telling jokes.

They are all having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.

The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, “Now it’s time to visit heaven…”

So, 24 hours passed with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

“Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.”

The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: “Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.”

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell…

Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.

He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground.

The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” stammers the Senator. “Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?”

The devil smiles at him and says,
“Yesterday we were campaigning,

Today, you voted..”

Vote wisely in November

I might try to vote early today. I will vote in the mosquito control board races and in the county commission races. I will vote against the building height increase referendum, because it is not worded to insure developers will never be able to take advantage of it. In the other races I might write in “none of the above”, or simply not vote.

I had dinner last night with friends in Marathon, who had just arrived from New England for the cool months. The husband is as conservative as it gets. However, on this we agreed. The first step to curing America’s ails is to nuke Washington D.C. when all of the politicians are there.

They have had me up for dinner a few times each season; I had one glass of red wine with each  meal. I had a glass of red wine last night. This morning, I feel my liver is about half dead. I don’t see me doing that again.

It’s flat hell living in Key West, which has more bars per capita, and more churches, than any other city on this planet, and not be able to drink.

Sloan halo

Deer Ed added the fake halo

Sloan Bashinsky

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