Depress ctrl and + keys together to increase text size; depress ctrl and – keys together to reduce
Sister Hanna Belle commented at www.goodmorningkeywest.com to yesterday’s Key West, where the truth is stranger than fiction post:
Thanks for broadcasting my email. You are a danger to society. I have a sneaking suspicion that you come from a generational satanic family. Ass.
Also, I sent a donation to thebluepaper yesterday with instructions to buy you a cup of coffee. I hope it burns your tongue. Ass.
You published your own email address when you commented at www.goodmorningkwest.com to what I had published there. I spread your email address around in keeping with my philosophy of putting our name, rank and serial number on our crusades.
Thanks for making a $ donation to http://www.thebluepaper.com. I donated an article on homelessness in their this week’s edition. I don’t drink coffee, it doesn’t agree with me. I experienced a good bit of G.I. tract distress carrying you inside of me, however.
[Here's the blue paper's link to my homeless article, which Naja Girard invited me to submit: Key West Homeless Forum Report From An Ex- Key West Street Person’s Perspective It's pretty much what I pubished at this website the day after the August 28 homless forum, slightly modified for the blue paper.]
Sister Hanna Belle also had commented at www.goodmorningkeywest.com:
The good psychiatrist might appreciate this.
I recall reading a long time ago of Hemingway thinking he was being harassed by the FBI. Will pass yours on to Dr. Weinstock.
[The article claims government surveillance and persecution of Ernest Hemingway, and also of a Chinese mainland woman, caused both of them, five decades apart, to commit suicide. The Hemingway part of the article alleges he was under survelliance and persecuted by J. Edgar Hoover and the F.B.I. for about twenty years, and that is what drove him mad and caused him to take his own life, finally. It's a fairly long article, and I leave for you to open the link Sister Hanna Belle provided, and read it.]
Jerry Weinstock, M.D., Psychiatry, semi-retired, replied to yesterday’s Key West, where the truth is stranger than fiction post at www.goodmorningkeywest.com:
Your Blog is getting a bit more eclectic and hence has added even more fascination. I can tell you Hemingway, like myself, valued freedom and self affirmation and restrictions were anathema. You are also part of that philosophy—-freedom of expression and a seeker of the truth however harsh.
Double Cheers for you !! Jerry
Yesterday afternoon in Jack Flats Sports Bar on Duval Street, I again bumped into an interesting fellow who introduced himself to me some months ago. As fate had it, a long time ago now, he attended and graduated from Cumberland Law School, which is affiliated with Samford University in Birmingham. My brother Major also attended and graduated from Cumberland some years after I graduated from the University of Alabama School of Law.
Samford used to be called Howard College, and the name was changed to honor Frank Samford, a prominent and wealthy Birmingham businessman, who gave the school a lot of money. Frank and my grandfather Leo Bashinsky, and a lawyer named Frank Spain were childhood friends in their hometown, Troy, Alabama. They all made their way to Birmingham to live and make their fortunes.
By and by, Frank Samford purchased a life insurance company out of receivership in Pennsylvania, as I recall, and moved the company to Birmingham. He used Frank Spain as the company’s lawyer and, I think, as member of the company’s board of directors, and he put Leo Bashinsky on his board of directors. Leo and Frank Spain started acquiring the company’s common stock, and in time the stock of Liberty National Life Insurance Company soared, the stock was split, it soared again, the stock was split, it soared again, over and over, and the two Franks and Leo became wealthy men indeed.
Today, the company is known as Torchmark, and perhaps it still has the best earnings record of any company on the New York Stock Exchange.
Well, going back to Howard College becoming Samford University, the way I heard it told, Frank Samford and Leo Bashinsky got into a who could give the most money to Howard College and the winner would get the school named after him contest. Frank gave the most money, so he won the contest. Although can you imagine Leo Bashinsky winning and the school being named Bashinsky University? In Birmingham, Alabama?
It was a Baptist college, and it lured Cumberland Law School down from somewhere in Tennessee, maybe Lebanon, and that’s how Cumberland Law School and Samford University tied the knot,
That’s some of my satanic bloodline, a great deal more of which I have published in the past.
Where I come from, there are no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets. Where I come from, secrets and lies are known to cause many problems, because they are living things, and they do their own thing in their own way, and that invariably plays out in weird and even unpleasant and often horrible ways sooner or later. So where I come from, nobody hides anything. Everything is visible. It saves heaps of grief to do it that way, and things run a lot smoother.
Meanwhile, the fellow in Jack Flats said the 162 people who voted for me last week in the mayor’s race were the people in Key West who wanted truth in government. I said, well, that doesn’t speak well for Key West then, does it? Just 162 of thousands of voters want truth in their government. A few months back in Jack Flats, he said he was a friend of and was backing Mayor Cates. Last night, I said he voted for Mayor Cates, and he said yes.
I said I’m fed up with Key West. I arrived here living on the street. In that way, I learned things about Key West, which I never wanted to know. It poisoned the water for me here. As I rose upward in the Key West “social” strata, the poisoned water remained ever present. I made lots of friends, but the city itself means nothing to me, and I’d just as soon move on from here, if the angels will go along with it.
When the fellow said I might be able to advance my political career by … I interrupted, said, I have no political career, I am not a politician, I never wanted to get involved in Key West politics … He continued, I could start putting up important issues facing the city, and ask for people to send in comments on those issues, which I publish. I said I would give that some thought, but my experience is, people tend to be more interested in commenting on an issue, and me publishing their comments without naming them, than people tend to like having their name used. I am pretty sure this fellow would not like having me use his name in anything I publish.
Two afternoons ago, I was at the city harbor at the end of Margaret Street, when, I swan, 3, no, 4 crows flew over me headed toward Caroline Street. I swan, I had never seen crows in Key West, nor in the Keys. Where in the hell did they come from? I pedaled after them and found them perched on top of a building near the city parking deck.
No, they were not buzzards, of which there are plenty in Key West and the Keys during the cooler months, but seldom seen down here during the hot months. Buzzards are much larger than crows.
Having once been a huntsman, bird and duck hunting, including crow hunting, and having once been able to call crows in with my mouth, I made a stab at speaking crow in the way I used to do it. After just a few caws, which didn’t sound too terribly bad after all those decades of not speaking crow, I heard a caw and then watched two of the crows swoop down toward me to light in a tree above me. I kept cawing, they kept looking around, trying to find a crow.
They flat were crows. What in the hell were they doing in Key West, where I never saw a crow before, nor anywhere in the Keys?
Well, I could leave that up in the air for my readers to comment on. It might be interesting to see what my readers come up with. They would never, however, in an eternity, unelss they had read it in something else I already wrote, know that in my spirit code, 4 = politics.
As for crows, there are peoples in America, and elsewhere, who know precisely what I’m talking all around here. There might even be people in Key West who know what I’m talking all around here. I suppose I will just have to wait and see.
Or, I suppose I could tell a story about a fellow who ran the production side of my father’s company, Golden Flake Snack Foods, which competed head-on with Frito-Lay.
After Aubry started having serious heart problems, he had to retire. He lived a bit south of Birmingham, on a lake a developer had acquired and turned into a subdivision. Aubry bought one of the lakeside lots and built a home on it.
In his retirement, Aubry took to spending a lot of time working on the grounds around his home. He put up wood duck houses on trees. He fed the flock of Canadian geese and the flock of mallard ducks, which had taken up permanent residence on the lake. Instead of migrating with the seasons, as such wild fowl normally do, they stuck around. Aubry fed the catfish and the bream from his pier. He fed the mourning doves and other wild birds.
Aubry had grown up on a farm in north Texas, and had become an expert hunstman and fisherman. He was the genuine article. He was really liking his little place in paradise on that lake a little ways below Birmingham.
I was living in Colordao and was having migrating flocks after flocks after flocks of wild fowl spirit experiences. Some of that I was sharing with Aubry.
One day, he told me three crows were showing up every morning behind his home, perching in the pine trees and looking at him. More, they were talking to him, telepathically. He was hearing things. What did I make of that?
I said, well, in American Indian lore, and for other indigenous peoples, crows are messengers from the gods.
One day, Aubry called me, said he was in the hospital. I asked what for? He said he was up on his ladder working on a wood duck house, and he slipped and plunged to the ground, one foot first, and he heard his ankle snap. Lying on the ground in terrible pain, he said, “God, I’m hurt. Please help me!” A voice came back, loud and clear, “So you know my name?” Then, Aubry saw flashing before his eyes all sorts of mathematical and geometric symbols, he was a mechanical engineer, but what he saw was far beyond anything he’d ever seen in his engineering studies and experiences. What he saw was COSMIC!
Aubry said he stood up and walked up the steep incline behind his home, then up the steep, long stairs to the deck off the back of his home, and shouted to his wife that he had fallen and broken his ankle and needed for her to drive him to the hospital, which she then did.
Aubry said, when the ER doctor asked him what had happened, he told the doctor what all I just told you, except for asking God for help and what he then heard and saw. The doctor said it was not possible for him to have walked up that hill and up those stairs. Aubry told the doctor he did just that.
I told Aubry he should not have fucked with that doctor’s mind like that; he should have told the doctor the whole story and really fucked with his mind. Aubry laughed. I said I was serious, he needed to finish telling the doctor what really happened. Aubry said he wasn’t sure he wanted do that. He was in a hosptial. It had a psychiatric wing. Then everyone would know about it, and he never would hear the end of it.
I said, hmmm, he didn’t tell his wife the whole story, either? No, he had only told her what he had told the doctor. She was a borh-again Christian, a story like that would really upset her. I said, well, he should tell her anyway, she was his wife. He said he didn’t see that happening,
I could tell stories like Aubry’s and the crows over Caroline Street, which were not supposed to be in Key West, for a very long time. But I wonder how many people in Key West and the Florida Keys would grok those stories? Did Ernest Hemingway grok crow stories.? Perhaps people would like to send me their own crow stories, for me to share at www.goodmorningkeywest.com? My email address is email@example.com.
The night before last, pedaling my bicycle down Fleming Street toward White Street, I turned right on Frances Street, heading toward Turman Avenue. Mark Songer pedaled his bicycle up beside me. Mark is active in Last Stand, which was founded years ago to advocate for the environment and related critical concerns in Key West and the Florida Keys.
Mark said he had just come out of a city commission meeting, and although the commission had voted to go back to one week a day garbage, reclycables and yard waste picked up, he didn’t think they had voted to amend the contract with Waste Management for the cost increase to be reduced down to just $2 more per month, instead of about 18 times that a month. Mark said he thought that was an oversight, and he would talk with his city commissioner about it.
It was discovered in the past that picking up garbage, recyclables and yard waste only once a week, increased recyling rates considerably in Key West. When the city commission went back to two times a week pick up about three months ago, all hell broke lose in environmental circles, and in circles where people didn’t wang to pay more for Waste Management’s pick ups.
Jaded with Key West and its government machinations as I was, I thought I could give a shit about what had happened or had not happened at the city commission meeting, but I did not tell Mark that. Instead, I asked if he knew William Benson, Jolly Benson’s father? Yes,
I said William knows how to turn Key West’s Mt. Trashmore, the city’s now dormant land fill (toxic waste dump) on Stock Island, into a solar farm.
A heap of solar energy could be generated there and used by the city during the day, or sold to the local electric company, in exchange for electricity the city needs at night and when the weather is overcast.
Mark said maybe private enterprise could do it. I said William wants the city to do it; and, since it’s solar energy, maybe there is federal and state funding? Mark said he had to go this way now, and he pedaled his bicycle on to wherever he lives.
I found Key West’s lack of interest in turning a toxic waste mountain into a solar farm really interesting, because for some time I had felt that Key West’s claims that it was going green were just so much pure horseshit.
Key West, in the past, has actively opposed white roofs, which reflect sunlight and leave buildings cooler inside and using less electricity on airconditioning therefore. A long drawn-out lawsuit, filed by a Key West citizen, may have put an end to that lunacy.
Another lunacy, Key West actively opposes solar panels in the city; it’s semi-captive electric company, Keys Energy Services, gets its electricity from fossil fuel and nuclear power plants located in the most southeastern part of Florida.
Another lunacy, Key West has a state of the art waste water treatment plant, the treated waste water from which is injected into deep wells, instead of recycled for irrigation, of which there is plenty in Key West, as is there plenty of washing vehicles, all with drinking water piped down to Key West from the mainland.
Carrying that crazy thought a step farther, I am pretty sure the waste water treatment plant can be upgraded so the finished product is drinkable. There are cities in the US, where freshwater is scarce, which have pot-to-tap waste water treatment. I don’t suppose, though, that tourists would care to come to Key West, knowing the tap water came from a toilet.
Other going green not lunacies …
Key West sells cruise ships drinking water piped down here from the mainland. Drinking water siphoned out of south Florida freshwater aquifers, and also produced in the water company’s reverse osmosis plant in south Florida, or, its desaline plant, because the water it is pulling from a different aquifer is brackish.
Key West pays Waste Management to haul all of the city’s yard waste to the mainland, where it is composted, or burned, or whatever; instead of the yard waste being composted and recycled locally.
Key West has no mandatory recycling ordinance.
Key West receives the dirtiest worst possible cruise ships.
The ocean around Key West is infested with MRSA bacteria. Google MRSA, to gander that horrible plague, which is easy to contract by going into the water down here with a nick or cut on your skin.
Key West claims that it is going green is pure horseshit.
I take that back, when Key West claims it is going green, it means getting as many US greenbacks as possible.
I wonder if any of my readers would like to put in their two cents worth on Key West going green, after putting their two cents worth in on crows?
You can bet the conch farm, if Aubry came down here and saw that bleak abandoned toxic waste waste mountain on Stock Island, he would be glad to meet William Benson and help him build that solar farm. Aubry was a wizard at cutting production costs at Golden Flake, and he was a wizard doing it before that, when he worked for Frito-Lay.
Wouldn’t surprise me if those 4 crows I saw above Caroline Street have close kin just south of Birmingham.
As for Ernet Hemingway seeking the truth, no matter what the price, he flat took no prisoners in his novels. No prisoners were taken in my novels. The one still in print, HEAVY WAIT, A Strange Tale, is carried by www.amazon.com, in kindle and trade paperback, and in Spanish.
Nor are any prisoners taken at www.goodmorningkwest.com. The angels certainly never let up on me.