Sunday morning coming down again?

 Every day is Sunday!

What would you do with yourself if you got an entire day back?  

I'm not sure how it happened, but I already went through Sunday, the 26th of April, and fell asleep that night.  

When I woke up at 03:33 hrs expecting it was Monday morning, the 27th, I looked at all my devices, and they read Sunday, the 26th.  I turned them off and turned them back on, and they read Sunday again.  

I know it's insane and nobody will ever believe me, so it's science fiction, but I'm pretty sure I just time-traveled.   

You didn't miss much on this day; I've already been there.  

Its bizarre considering all the strange stuff that's gone on over the last several years.  I don't know if time travel into the future is possible because we have not physcially acheived lightpseed, but time travel to the past is, exactly like Albert Einstein predicted.  They reverse-engineered the jump into hyperspace and found a back door that allows for time travel into the past while still moving in a circle.  Effectively, you and the entire world passed through a wormhole.   

I need to do something different today, obviously.    

First, thanks to God for sparing my life so I can continue to live by your grace.  Second, thanks for giving me an extra day to get my laundry caught up because it was out of control.  Thirdly, thanks for waking me up in my own bed and not in a ditch next to a Waffle House 40 miles down the road, like that other guy nobody believes.

I don't know what is going on, and I would never try to con someone. I think the proof is the fact Ive done this for 20 years for the love of writing. I might be mistaken or confused about certain facts from time to time, but my intentions are pure.  This is the most unbelievable event I've ever experienced.   More unbelievable than all that other stuff combined.  Truly outlandish and a turning point in my life, but no matter what, it still never got weird enough for me.  

Update:  Okay, I've got it figured out.  Friday night, I was up all night with insomnia until dawn.  When I woke up later on Saturday morning, around 10-1030 I thought it was Sunday.  All Day Saturday, I was operating under the false presumption that it was Sunday due to sleep deprivation.   Mystery solved.  

Nothing lost, nothing gained.  Except for my self-respect.      

We'll do it live!

The way it is

 Not to rain on victims rights week, but when you lynch a man in cold blood, and he survives, expect him to be sore with you for quite a long time.  It happens, I get it, you're a ruthless bunch of cowards and sexual deviants.  People get crushed under the wheels of justice all the time.    

It's just the way it is.  There were plenty of people who became aware immediately upon my arrest, mainly the defense attorneys for the guy who got convicted without my testimony.  That was some really good timing, considering he dragged the case out for four years.  The very week it went to trial, I was locked up; that was super convenient for the defendant.  

I wasn't actually a victim until I became a witness, so I guess that doesn't count.  I'll never go out of my way to help again.  Let them burn, let them kill each other, let them do whatever they want as long as it doesn't involve me, because when I did the right thing, they tried to kill me for it, and the district attorney left me swinging by a rope.   Its an ongoing problem of corrupt officials covering up for perverts.  Thats all.   

Have a nice day.  

Just in case

You missed!!!   

This way, you know who is on the other side of this keyboard.   I have nothing to hide.   

 

Gaslight this

 

 

 This is the creeper who showed up at my door a couple of weeks after I had been poisoned, missed my court date, and got arrested by the county in 2022. I didn't even live in his district. 

 I knew he was up to no good. It just goes to show you my story is very weird, with a perverted drug addict from the county showing up at your door right after someone tried to murder you.  

Very strange indeed!  Whatta coincidence!

I suspect he was keeping company with discout Rod Stewart and his old lady right next door.  Just a hunch.   You could check the cell phone records; it is easily provable if you think I'm lying.  But you already knew that, because it's your surveillance state there in the county of Kern, you sent his punkass over there to provoke me.  There are plenty of dots left to be connected, I'm just leaving them out.    

From the outside, it looks like a bunch of corrupt officials covering up for a bunch of corrupt officials who don't realize it's their time to go.   How many more of these scandals does this place have to go through before it stops?      

 This is fine.

It looks like winter has come to Kern County, and it's almost May!

Do you realize how satisfying it is to see one of these corrupt bufoons ushered into a jail cell?  Even if he did get out of jail time because he's related to the DA.  These are the kind of republicans we need or want?  Not on your life.  People who pretend to be tough on crime except when it comes to their own family?  Just wow!

It's people like this joker who tried to bury me, along with all their buddies in the media who failed to call it out.  Everybody and their brother knew this wacko was a big old druggie.      

The Ox

 Where there are no Oxen the manger is empty. But from the strength of an Ox comes an abundant harvest...

Proverbs 14:4

Jimmy Stewart told John Wayne in The Shootist, and I have said it before, even an Ox dies.  

I don't wanna be a bummer; abundant harvest or not, it has a manger life.  We all have an expiration date.  

Don't waste your strength on anything other than your harvest.  Figure out what your harvest is and work it.  As crazy as it may seem its a call to action.  You don't think of action when you envision an ox.  They're big and dumb, and they move slowly.  They need constant poking and prodding from their master to do everything the right way, or they stop. But they're strong, and given the right direction, they perform work in abundance. 

Gee, that sounds a lot like me.

After some repetition, even the ox knows where to go with no prodding because he knows it's painful to leave the path his master has directed him on.  

How foolish are we to not be like that ox that knows its master?  

He keeps walking without being prodded because he knows if he stops, the master is there with that stick; it's blind faith demonstrated by a dumb animal.  

Lucky for us, God doesn't use a stick to persuade you, but even the ox knows better than to stray from the road.   Isaiah 1:3   

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.  Thats why we need oxen.  With an abundant harvest, an ox might come in handy.  You could be worse things, but I wanna be an Ox, they're force multipliers, and it's better than being an ass, they can be super mean.  They're in the bible too.   One of them even spoke to a person in the book of Numbers to tell them how stupid they were.  I know all this stuff from years of reading what the state of California labeled as my little book of hate speech, The Bible.       

If I'm gonna become an ox, I'd better start working out more....

 

     

Water under the bridge

 After years of taking it on the chin, where it mattered the most, raising two children, and attempting to maintain a marriage where both of us were broken, we called it off after 25 years.  All the other crap that was going on never touched them.  I don't even think they realized what was going on outside the house.  

Why was Dad under subpoena for nearly a decade because of his other insane family? 

I was more than a little concerned about my ex-wife dragging strangers into our home.  I had a target on my head!  

I'm out there in Bako living with a price on my head, and this dim-witted broad is having the time of her life!  

Unbelievable, right?  

It got to be too much after I busted her cheating, so away she went.  She can deny it all she wants, but I'm over it and her lies.   

It's fine, we can't undo it now.   

Water under the bridge.  

I got dragged through the mud on the whole thing, but if folks back home think it's clever to add insult to injury, they've got another coming.  The joke is on you.  This isn't the Jerry Springer show. I never signed on for any of this.  

It was more like a lifetime show, Pitbulls and Parolees meets 90 Day Fiance meets Intervention, meets The Sopranos, meets The Jerry Springer Show, meets Sons of Anarchy meets Cops.  

Who wouldn't run screaming for the forest like his ass was afire?  I swear.  

You freaks are too much!  

Yeah, that's my mother and sister, but at some point, you have to draw the line; you can't drag in every dangerous felon you find on the side of the road.  Reformed my ass, he should never see the light of day again.  He thinks he's Jack Henry Abbott?  Well, my name's Friday and I used to wear a badge, get the fuck outta here, you piece of shit!  

For those who know, for those who don't, now you do.  

But that's okay, I saw how corrupt it was even back then, so I kept my mouth shut and made a quiet exit.  That's me, always keeping my mouth shut for the sake of the family.     

It's a good thing there's a lot of water under that bridge to wash off all the mud they tried to bury me under, because when you hate someone, you only destroy yourself.  It's too bad they can't say the same thing for themselves.   

What little credibility I had was lost back in California, and it's a good thing we aren't in California any longer.  

I'm lucky to be alive and in one piece, and I give all the glory, honor, and praise to god for that.    

At least one person finally heard me and acknowledged that what went down was real thats why I'm writing about this today.  Moving forward Im going to continue doing what I have been doing in addition to a few other things.  I came here three years ago to escape the toxic environment I found myself in.  The last thing I want to do is contaminate my new life with fresh problems caused by my past.  My record is clean just like my conscience.  Zero, nothing in the meantime, all the people with stuff to hide want to sling a bunch of fiery arrows in this direction?  I was a witness for the prosecution!  And after all that, when your phone doesn't ring.  You know the fix is in.  

Have a nice day.  

They've been surrounded by controversy for decades.  

Who knows.  

Put it this way Einsteins, you can't weaponize someone's past because everybody has skeletons in their closet, and my closet is clean.  I was always on the right side of the law, and I don't care what anybody says.  I did the right thing in more ways than one, but God often sees the truth and waits.   I've carried a massive burden for decades, and only through faith in God was I able to survive and overcome it.  

He never promised it would be easy, only that I would survive.  

Where's the bridge?

 

Fat camp

Psalm 34:22. The message

God pays the price for each slave's freedom; no one who runs to him loses out. 

I don't deserve any kind of consideration from the creator, you know?  

Why would god reach down into the gutter and help the likes of me?  Sometimes I really don't know, its mind blowing.    

He helps broken people.  

What happened to me could happen to anyone, and what he does for one man, he will do for another.   The entire physical breakdown I experienced after that stupid shot.  I thought that was going to be it, and then someone saw blood in the water and took a chance at getting rid of me.  Too bad, you missed!  You can read it from a cell.  

I walked 2.5 miles today, carrying stones uphill.  I'm either gonna use the stones for cobblestone flooring or a rock wall.  Right now its just part of my workout process.  I select the largest stones I can manage for 1/2 a mile.  That's the kind of inner brute strength you can not build in a punkass gym.  Out in the woods, building stuff with my bare hands, out of friggin rocks.. we should develop a fat camp around cleaning up the forest.  Two missions accomplished at once.  It'll probably rake in millions.  Feed them beans and rice and force them to do manual labour.  Sounds like North Korea. Throw in a can of sardines once a week or whatever.   No phones, no TV, no newspapers. I've got all that stuff, but I'm not the fat one.  You get your phone back after you lose 10 pounds...oh I forgot, there is no cell phone service out here. You can have the wifi password after you lose another 10, fatty.  I'll change my name to Jim Jones, dye my hair jet black and wear mirrored sunglasses... that's terrible.  It's a bad, tasteless joke, forgive me.  I know there are still people out there who remember what I'm talking about.  

From chaos a new order

 There were times over the past five years when I was afraid, but after a while, that fades and mainly manifests itself as anger.  Anger manifests itself as chaos, and when you get to the root causes of your problems its easier to deal with. 

With that written,  I'm through with Chaos.  It's exhausting.  This is why I'm a loner.  On some days, all I know to do is copy scripture from the bible to soothe my soul.  My parents taught me to do this when I was a lad.  

Matthew 18:3. The message

For an answer, Jesus called over a child who stood in the middle of the room and said, "I'm telling you once and for all that unless you return to square one like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom.  What's more, when you receive the childlike on my aqccount its the same as receiving me." 

Matthew 11:28-30. The message

Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  Come to me.  Get away with me and recover your life.  I'll show you how to get a real rest.  Walk with me and work with me-watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me, and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.  

For me, that translation makes the scripture come alive.  Its such a great translation and very close to the original language translated into modern English.  

I'm not trying to live like some fanatic, and that's not what Jesus recommends when he says the unforced rhythms of grace.  Its a gentle calling of my spirit, longing to read the scriptures that give me hope through the renewing of my mind.  It's called meditation, and I will never run out of hope thanks to the lord.  That's the truth.  There is nothing in this world that can take that away from me, no matter how chaotic it gets.  Only God is entitled to the power of life and death; my life is not my own.  That's why I don't want to be a horrible example or a terrible warning or whatever....because I'm not.  

Spoiler alert:  I read the end of the book!  God wins.   

 

 Exactly like I wrote earlier, all I have to do is sit back and collect the evidence and turn it over to the police.      

Have a great day fatty!

The future is unwritten

 You can be defined by your past or your future, by moving forward in a positive direction. That is why I do some of the things I do right now.   I've been working out and eating right, trying to stay grounded by reading the bible.   

I've never been a super positive motivational writer, you know. It was more like, if I can't be a good influence, let this be a horrible warning-type of deal.  

In the end, it doesn't matter who did what over god knows whatever, the results are always the same. Death. 

That's the truth. That's been my experience. The wages of sin are death. A dog always returns to his own vomit, you know? I'm done with that. Over it.  

I needed to break away and leave all that insanity behind, and anybody who wants to bring drama into my life right now has got to go. That's all I know. Forget all the people who I thought were friends, because in the end, you reap what you sow.

I thought it was hilarious when my ex-wife suggested we could remain friends after our divorce, and I told her, "You had your chance to be my friend when we were married. I'm good."   

You know?  

Somebody poisoned me, you psycho! 

That is truly insane.  

Somebody tried to murder me, and you are not concerned about my welfare in the slightest, just stick with the narrative that I'm some crazy person? I took care of that ungrateful woman, and I'm repaid with treachery.

I'm sticking with my narrative, too, and you freaks look guilty as all get out!

   

They didn't want to pursue a criminal case against me because it wouldn't stick, since I had almost died.   Looks kinda inconvenient when the poor bastard who was under subpoena gets poisoned the night before a felony arson case goes to trial, and the DA's office is not concerned with that in the slightest. Especially after I reached out to my friend and told him what was happening, he made sure to screw me over after that, making phone calls and whatnot. Sounds about right.  

They still look bad to me, but as a law-abiding citizen, I'm not an expert. Only they would know.   They can write their story, and I'll write mine.   

    

 

censored

 I don't get it. Google wants to fire me after 21 years of standing up for the truth and the First Amendment.   It's not my fault they tried to kill me; I don't give a rat's ass what anybody says.    

Please don't fire me. I've blogged over 2.5 million words.   

Update: I removed the offensive post.  

It was literally not my fault. I ran away, and they ran after me.  You expect me to curl up in the fetal position and take yet another ass-whooping?  I don't think so.    

Fighting my way back

 Four years ago, I couldn't walk without a cane.  Today, I'm a little weaker than I was before 2020, but nonetheless, I'm sufficiently healed to say I'm 100 times better than I was in April of 2022.  After COVID and then the damage done by the crappy shot, it felt like I had ALS.  The only reason I know the symptoms mimicked ALS is that I cared for my father for a couple of years, who died from it in 1990. 

Relentless pain all over my body with muscle spasms, partial loss of motor function, and muscle atrophy.  I couldn't even lift my own body weight off the couch, but hey, I'm sure it was all a coincidence, right?  

My doctor said it was gout and sent me packing.   

He was so offended that I would suggest the clot shot had anything to do with my complete physical collapse 72 hours after receiving it, that I must be a wild-eyed domestic terrorist.  Seriously, that's how Marxist California has become.  I never want to see that quack again.    

I went to another doctor, who suggested I have knee surgery and physical therapy for the symptoms caused by the shot.  Because they didn't have a cure for what was done.  She has since lost her license to practice medicine after killing a patient on the operating table.  Really competent over there.  

I never had knee surgery, and guess what?  It's fine today!  Yeah, it's still messed up from a motorcycle accident, but I'm not completely paralyzed like I was.    

Whatever the case might be, I'm fighting my way back from the brink of extinction, that's all I know.  I lost 95 pounds, kicked an addiction to pain pills, survived an attempt on my life, and moved away from those treacherous psychos.  Literally, cut everyone off, never to be seen or heard from again.  You wanna know what I'm up to?  Here it is.   Other than that, with friends like you, who needs enemies?  

I've got a lot to be thankful for what god has done.  

  

Thank God.      

Update:  I wrote about ALS because that's the only thing I had to compare my personal experience to.  Nobody ever bothered to try to figure out why a perfectly healthy man who could leg press double his body weight turned into a wreck within three days after the Saint Fauci shot.  It was Guillain-Barré Syndrome, in my opinion.  It's okay to diagnose yourself in this situation because there have been so many lies put out about the entire affair.  Of course, they didn't want to diagnose the problem as an adverse reaction, but refused me any type of treatment and excused it as psychological, which is inexcusable.  They lied about the shot. I think it's only right to seek an answer for my symptoms, and it led straight to GBS.  I've been recovering from that and other nightmares all at the same time, and people wanna know why I keep to myself.  There is your answer.     

The truth is, they don't want to know how many people they killed or adversely affected.  

 

 

Honor

 Ultimately, my Uncle Ray was a man of great faith. Otherwise, he'd have never survived.  

Over and over again, that's where my story leads.  The real truth is that all of this is temporary.  It can be gone in an instant, including your life, so always guard your honor.  Despite any mistakes I made, my honor remains intact.  As I continue to make mistakes, so does everyone else, and it's what you do to control the consequences of your mistakes that really matters.  That's how you find honor in defeat, through the lessons you learn from your mistakes.  From honor, redemption.  

My great-grandfather, Francis, spent years as a Civil War POW, got out of prison, married three times, and fathered over 20 children.  He was a tough old cavalry soldier; that's why I have more than 3,000 cousins scattered throughout the United States. He got around.  You might kill me off, but you'll never get rid of us. We built this country.   God bless America.  

Philippians 4:8-9.  The Message

Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, compelling, gracious-the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not to curse.  Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw, and what you realized.  Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.  

  

Easy does it

 I ran a portion of my true story through AI analysis, and it recommended I seek therapy.   

Easier said than done.  How about the people who tried to bury me seek jail time?  Why don't they seek the wooden shower they so richly deserve?    

For the same reason, I do not seek therapy.  

They don't think those folks should go to jail, and I don't think I should have to go to therapy for being the victim of a crime.  While the real criminals in this deal get off without repercussions.    

 

I don't trust them or their abilities to bring resolution to my grievances about almost being murdered, being lied about, being assaulted, and then receiving a full week's worth of fucking torture at the hands of the county while my small business crashed and burned.  

Yeah, I'm cool, as a matter of fact, I wipe my ass with therapy, it's all a racket to scam people into taking drugs they don't need or want.    

I'll never back down from my story because I'm the guy who almost died!

I'm doing well without any assistance; my life is my own, regardless of whether anyone approves.  

Did my uncle Ray seek therapy for the two Purple Hearts he earned in Europe?  They didn't even know what that was; it didn't exist. Now, everybody is in therapy, and is the world a better place than it was before all these people got in touch with their feelings?  Fuck no!  

The narcissistic baby boomers invented psychotherapy to assuage their guilt for being such shitty children who fucked everything up, including their children, Generation X.   You think they gave a fuck about us?  I was alone most of my life; this is a new phenomenon for me now.  Not at all.  Like most of my friends, we were adults by the time we were in high school.  Therapy?  Whatever, man...

I still defend the right to keep and arm bears!

 

Fear and Loathing from the Heartland

 You see what a mess California is, and if you think the socialist government out there didn't have a notion of my online presence, think again.  I actually like Gavin Newsom as a person, but Jerry Brown he ain't, fuck me.  He's a monster, and I pray to the dear Lord he's never elected to national office. I think hes micro dosing LSD.  Shrooms or something, he needs to give himself a break and check out a meeting.   

When Governor Brown looks like Barry Goldwater compared to you, that's too far, man.  Then you add in the CCP subversives, the Middle Eastern terror cells, the cartels, the Cubans, the Russians, it's too much, brother.  That place is out of fucking control, and all I had to do was cross a few of the wrong folks to get a glimpse of it up close and personal, and I did it with GLEE.    

Ever since then, I've been on guard and vigilant.  I know who my friends are and they ain't it.  The place is as corrupt as the day is long, and it doesn't matter who controls the freakshow; one set of freaks is as ate up as the other.     

I literally packed my shit and cleared out of there post haste.  You can put all the black marks next to my name you like, but the paperwork tells a far different story, implicating some foreign nationals in a crime.  If it were all an innocent misunderstanding, then why am I still living with it?   I'm supposed to be held hostage by some pervert fucking doctor from Afghanistan?  Not a chance.  I'd like to see his medical license revoked and his entire livelihood taken away from him.  It was pretty obvious he hated Americans like me. You give one of these douchebags any authority, and they always take it too far.  I assume that's why they denied me a bible and called it a little book of hate speech.  But who really knows?  

Only the lying sacks of shit who engineered that nightmare.  Which so happened to coincide with the one-year anniversary of our disgraceful withdrawal from Afghanistan.   Whatta coincidence!  There is a trail of evidence.  I never said a word.  A sweet little black lady who worked there knew they were doing me dirty, and she told me to keep my mouth shut and go along with the program, or I'd never get out.   She was right, because they continued to pursue me ad nauseam from that day forward, looking for an excuse to either hook me up or kill me.  People had money to be made with me out of the way.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it until the day I die. 

They violate People's civil rights like it's entertainment.  I'm like a preserved moose on display in a museum.  My life is an open book thanks to these scoundrels, so why not put it in writing?  Nobody believes me anyway.  Only they know who they are, and they are not gonna be happy.    

It's all a work of fiction; there I fixed it.   Nobody looks bad, except me.   It's not you, it's me.  Put on your purple beret, kick your jackboots up on the desk, and give it rest.  It doesn't get any better than this.          

  

 

This is how it works.  You piss somebody off, and you become the target of an open rolling warrant.  It's virtually endless and unconstitutional.    

And these pricks get to decide who that is.  Obviously, its personal, right?  Totally unconstitutional.   Except for that pesky patriot act you rammed down our throats in order to create a surveillance state.  The kids nowadays don't know any different; it's pathetic.   

This is a great podcast.  Those willing to forfeit freedom for security deserve neither.  

For years, when I answered the phone, if it was a friend, I always said, Fuck Hoover.  They knew. I lived right next door to one of the biggest rats in Bakersfield for more than 10 years; it's not too difficult to connect some dots...  

words

 The one-man human crime wave reporting for duty here.  My confinement ended overnight, but I've grown cold and bitter over Twitter because it's just words!  Actions always speak louder, and my record speaks for itself.  I don't have anything to prove.  You win again!  Congratulations, I'm proud of you.  

Donald Trump for president of the fucking universe.  

Fusion

 

That’s how I know my heartfelt plea to Elon reached his desk.  The amount of resources they’ve wasted monitoring a blogger for god knows how long is fucking mind bending.  I’m over it.  I’ve been over it for a long time.  

If you look at the silver lining at least I’ll never be lost….its like rolling with your own security force.  Nothing bad could ever happen because…I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination. Put it this way, if something ever did happen it could only have come from them. 

When I get out of twitter jail

 

 

 I've never thought the name X was appropriate; it gives a whiff of something that I'm not sure smells so good. You know? 

 It's an open sewer. People are fucking insane, and everybody is on the hustle.

I'll just shitpost on here until the ban is lifted.  

It may not lift, and I may need to appeal the decision directly to Elon Musk. 

Dear Elon, 

In addition to being an environmental justice and First Amendment warrior, which is rare, as I am sure you are aware.  Can you please stop these chickenshit motherfuckers from getting me banned as well as shadowbanned?  As you know, only democrats oppose the free exchange of ideas and the individual's right to freedom of expression.   In other words, go along with the commie agenda or get crushed under their wheels through lawfare and every other type of horseshit these evil maggots can dream up...   

Please end the suspension.

Yours truly,

Johnny

treason

 Earlier this afternoon, I was suspended on Twitter for posting about the Iranian operative and her daughter, who are the nieces of the deceased Iranian throat cutter Soleimani, who were living in Los Angeles.  Buh Bye!

It's treason, and they ought to hang the bitch.  Deportation is far too kind... 

This is why I avoided Twitter all along, too many fucking pussies.  

It's okay, I've lived my life under the gun, behind the eight ball, and up against the wall.  Who the fuck are you??  I suspect the Hollywood skank I rented a room from has been stalking me ever since I ran out of her house like a raped ape.  She is insane, and I don't care how many movie credits she has or who she knows...she ripped me off, then tried to pursue me for charges on a room I left exactly the same as when I moved in.  Even the neighbor told me she's done the exact same thing about half a dozen times.  A new roommate moves in, she starts acting insane, and they leave.  It was like discount whatever happened to Baby Jane on crystal meth and cigarettes.  Yuck!  Talk about recoiling in horror, 3000 miles ain't enough...she probably supports the Iranians too...

   

A friendship on trial

 When I look back at my relationship with the person I called my brother, it was always under strain.  He passed away about two weeks after I arrived here, but no one informed me for six months.  I wasn't even sure it was true, and I'm still not completely convinced he died after I looked up his rap sheet, which was two pages long.  Who wouldn't pull a stunt like that in order to escape prison time?  

Our friendship began with a trial and ended with a trial.  It's true, the first time we went to court together was in 1978 after some crazed hippie tried to run us over in a blue Chevy Nova.  My friend's dad was a highway patrol officer who had arrested a person for driving under the influence.  The guy showed up at this patrolman's house with his scuzzy friend and tried to kick his ass, to which he responded by beating both of them and arresting them again.  My dad held them at gunpoint until the sheriff arrived. It was a pretty well-known event in the community.    

It was some months later when my friend and I were walking down this country road in search of frogs or whatever little boys go looking for.  When all of a sudden, a guy in a dark blue Nova came flying down the road and swerved at us.  We stood there as this man went down the road, made a U-turn, and came back at us at a high rate of speed.  My friend, who was a couple of years older, pulled me behind an irrigation pump as this jackass ran off the road into the field trying to kill us.   

We ran home, and this lady who witnessed the whole ordeal followed us home to talk to our parents.  As it turned out, she was the person who got the license plate number and called the sheriff.  That lady turned out to be a lifelong friend of the family from that point on, just like my friend and I.   Our friendship started out like an episode of CHiPs and ended like the Towering Inferno.  

The driver of the blue Chevy Nova turned out to be the younger brother of the first guy his dad arrested. He was a minor and spent a few months at a reform school.   

The trial that ended our friendship was the one where I was supposed to testify against him because he beat his girlfriend up and burned his house down.  Then I almost died the day before the trial was supposed to start, according to the subpoena I had.   I thought it was an incredible coincidence, but the assholes holding me against my will based on bogus charges didn't think it was necessary to call the police or inform the DA's office.   I made the phone calls myself when I got out, but I was hung up on, or my messages were not returned.  That's weird.  It almost makes me think those crooked fuckers were in on it, just a hunch.  

I really don't need therapy or even want to talk about it. I just want them to know they won't catch me slipping again.  My goodwill to you and your phony bullshit is over.  I've got a lot of cards yet to play. 

At the bottom of it all is a big cover-up involving money, motive, and opportunity.  After all the other straight-up corruption we've seen coming out of the district attorney's office, is it any surprise they would allow a witness under subpoena to almost die, then do nothing except attempt to charge me with a crime?  For me, any effort to recall that puppet DA and her minions would be a noble one.