Yesterday, by email, Capt. Conch, the host/Ed. of the Coconut Telegraph gossip column of bigpinekey.com, accused me of having an obsession with the Tom Stump case. I wrote back that he made a grave mistake accusing me of that. I said I hate working on that case, it makes me feel more poisoned than anything I work on in the Keys, which means there is something really bad there the angels who stay on my case want to come out. I sure feel poisoned right now.
I told Capt. Conch, after all the time he has known me, he still does not understand that I do not choose the subjects I am given to write about. The subjects are given to me, and while I make plenty of typo and dyslexic mistakes, the subject matter is not my decision. I gave him yet another chance to tell me the names of the friends he is shielding from me and the readers of the Coconut Telegraph, with respect to Tom Stump’s disappearance. Once again, I received no reply to my request for their names, even though this time I had said perhaps his telling me who they are would resolved the matter and I would be able to keep writing to the Coconut Telegraph.
The result of Capt. Conch’s refusal to give me his friends’ names is that they now have been identified as people who know something about Tom Stump’s disappearance, which has not yet been made public. This is so even though Capt. Conch may himself know nothing about what they know. It probably isn’t too terribly difficult to hazard a guess as to who they are, if you have lived in the Sugarloaf-to-Big Pine Key area for a few years, so I won’t insult anyone’s intelligence by doing that now, other than to say Bill Becker came to me in a dream last night and grumbled about a fishy smell in his basement.
I also dreamt last night of going fishing offshore with an old friend from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, where I attended law school. He later changed jobs and went to work for A.G. Edwards in Tuscaloosa, and when they closed that office, he was moved to Naples, Florida. Now he runs that office. While fishing in my dream we caught 40 nice table fish on 10# test line, and then we caught the devil. Seemed like another fishy way for the angels to confirm my thoughts yesterday about what’s behind Capt. Conch’s reluctance to tell me who he’s shielding.
Along somewhat similar lines was a dream about my representing a defendant in a north Georgia federal court last night. U.S. District Courts in two different states, Alabama and Georgia, recently ruled a sheriff (the Alabama case) and a county commission (the Georgia case) have to run county jails humanely, or face contempt of court and time in jail. It was no chance happening that these two federal decisions came down while Lorri Szostak, M.D. and I are trying to get our local and state officials to do something about the deplorable food situation in the Stock Island jail. The timing was arranged by the same angels that are on my case all of the time, in an effort to try to get the attention of our local sheriff and his top brass, our county commissioners, our state attorney, and our Governor. Anyone who has been reading what I write about the food in the Stock Island jail, who does not see the hand of God in all three jail cases, and that all three cases are spiritually linked, needs to go to an eye doctor.
I told Capt. Conch yesterday that the only obsession I have is not being on this planet any longer, and that he would have the same obsession if he lived in my skin. What causes me to feel that way is summed up pretty well in this post, and in my telling Capt. Conch that I often wonder why all people are not treated by the angels the way Sandy Downs and I are treated. Then I said I probably could answer my own question in two ways. One way, if all people are treated the way Sandy and I are treated, the population will diminish to 50,000 people. The other way, the angels choose only a few people to be cut out from the herd and given special treatment. Anyone else who wants special treatment must really want it, to receive it.
Sloan Bashinsky, 31 January 2009