Is He Really Dead?

So Epstein was found dead in his cell. How fucking convenient.

It reminds me of Ken Lay, the CEO of Enron back in the day. Lay and his buddies pulled all kinds of bullshit that resulted in Enron’s spectacular crash. Employees lost their like savings because they were strongly encouraged to buy Enron stock. I remember one man who was about a year or two from retirement saying that since he’d lost everything, he’d have to work until he died. He wasn’t kidding, either. Anyway, the day Lay was to be sentenced, he dropped dead from a heart attack. Or so it was said.

Same here. Actually, it’s an even bigger deal than Enron. Epstein was most likely going to go down and if he did, a whole lot of powerful men were going to go down with him. Epstein wouldn’t have kept quiet about who took advantage of his little ring. To get maybe a reduced sentence (not much question he’d go to prison this time), he was probably going to sing like a canary. And then he dies. Or so it is said.

Seems like quite the coincidence, huh? Lay and Epstein were in deep, deep, shit and suddenly they die, just like that. I have a theory. Both men were richer than Croesus. They probably socked away huge bucks and other valuables in secret offshore accounts under assumed names (happens all the time). With all their riches backing them, it would be easy for them to fake… Continue reading

The City Of New Orleans

Good mornin’ America, how are ya?
Say, don’t you know me, I’m your native son
I’m the train they call The City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

Arlo Guthrie’s The City of New Orleans came out when I was 12. For a long time, it was my favorite song. I’m not a fan of country or folk music–or even Arlo Guthrie–but this song appealed to me in a way I really can’t fathom. In fact, the only reason I probably ever heard it was because it was a bust-out crossover hit. All the pop stations were playing it. I guess the only ones that weren’t were the classical and black stations.

Anyway, this song has been playing in my head lately, in an endless loop. Which means I could be in deep shit. See, it starts with a tune from my childhood, playing day and night. I go to sleep, it’s playing. I wake up, it’s playing. It’s like I can’t NOT hear it. Next comes the numbness. My emotions bottle up and nothing fazes me because nothing matters. Then I get the brain fog. It’s hard for me to think, to comprehend. It’s impossible for me to read. My ability to write is fucked, too. When that happens, I have no idea how I’m still able to do my job. And I can forget about trying to do creative work.

If I pass this point, thoughts of death arrive. The… Continue reading