The Metamorphosis

Once upon a time, boy and girls, before the Bible was written and before God’s reality introduced the dinosaurs (which was a big mistake later corrected) there existed strange human-like creatures. They were round like a ball, had four arms and hands and four legs and feet. They had one head with two faces looking opposite ways that were precisely alike with two ears and eyes each and a nose and mouth and they had privy members. These earliest human-like creatures were of three combinations: male-male, male-female, and female-female. They were very powerful, and the gods were in fear of their strength. It was decided to cut them in two. Divide and rule. Is this a true story?



There is clear evidence that these creatures, from Plato’s imagination, may have actually existed. All over the planet earth, we find these separate male and female creatures attempting to become one again, and in the process create more male and female creatures. Sometimes many creatures are born all at once. These are called twins, triplets and tuplets. They are believed by some in the science community to be the mythical attached male-male, female-female creatures from long ago, but now separate. They also believe that these creatures existed from the clear evidence of newborns joined at the hip and or head.

So boys and girls, as in any artistic creation, some things don’t work very well together, such as colors and shapes and especially square pegs and round holes. Change is inevitable and is part of the process. The dinosaurs were erased from the canvas with fire and evolution and changed into birds, and the human-like creatures were split in half. God corrected reality with Adam and Eve. One man and one woman, separate and almost but not quite equal. God kept it simple, so God thought.

The big question in any maternity ward use to be: Is it a boy or a girl? Such an easy question to answer, one may think. If wrapped in a blue blanket it’s a boy, and in a pink blanket it’s a girl. Take the kid home and raise it accordingly.


X and Y chromosomes at one time also did the job. Males were XY friendly and females were XX friendly, but that has changed and is no longer foolproof in the enlightened 21st Century.  Which is what, or what is which? What appears to be masculine or feminine may not be so. Nyet, nyet, nyet, not anymore.

Freud brought up the interesting idea on how to determine the sex of a person by taking a good look at the reproductive organ. Males, who have a penis, will be masculine and called boys, and females who do not have a penis, and are extremely jealous and envious of this fact, will be feminine and called girls. It was an idea that was around for a very long time before Mr. Freud’s female penis envy assumption.

And today, boys and girls, the creatures are back, not the dinosaurs, which would be very exciting, but Plato’s male-female creatures. Freud said that within every man there is an inner woman and within every woman there is an inner man. It’s very difficult exposing these inner characters. We can’t really see the innards of a person. We would have to take a person’s word that there was a male inside or a woman inside, but not everyone tells the truth about these things, especially newborn infants. The LGBTABCD and E boys and girls would run with Freud’s little sentence. And once again we’re all off onto the road of confusion.


Gay men do not have sex with other men, they have sex with the imaginary inner Frauline within the other male, and it’s the same for women who have sex with the imaginary inner Herr of the other woman. If only the imaginary inner Mr. and Mrs. could be gotten out of the body and into the gay communities reality, life would be so much more simple and understanding, unlike God’s reality.

And yes, boys and girls, science and the modern world has found a way for the innards to be free at last. The Sex Change Hospital in Trinidad, Colorado fulfills the dreams of men becoming women and women becoming men. Cut and paste operations and mutilations provide the necessary accessories for men to be women, and for women to end their penis envy that is so difficult to bear. Concoctions of hormones are drunk to femaleize the male and maleize the female. Life is good in America where nature’s God no longer inscribes a man or woman’s identity. We can all be whatever we wish, or whatever we imagine we are.


Imagine one’s gay male partner disappearing for a few weeks, and coming home in the external body of what was once his inner woman. No longer would they have to bear the stigma of being a homosexual couple. They would be man and ‘some sort of woman.’ And in recognition of Black History Month: They would be free at last, thank god they are free at last.

Kafka’s Gregor Samsa looked in the mirror one morning and saw a disgusting, bad smelling, fluid emitting, hideous looking bug with long legs and antenna. It was him, a changed man, now a bug. Who is to say that this never happened? Why can’t we assign ourselves such an identity? Think boys and girls, what it must be like to be transformed as by magic or sorcery and able to walk on walls and ceilings.


And how do we protect all this fiction and falsity from the unbelievers of man’s new reality? That’s right, boys and girls, through the rule of law and human rights, the idea that has made America great. A Transgender and Heterhomorphic Law that allows gender identity and unrestricted gender expression acknowledging that all men are not created equal, some are more equal than others, and all persons can be all they can be, and whatever and whoever they think they are. Got that?

The Gender Expression Non-Discrimination Act or GENDA is the law of New York, and we will obey the law, or else. Under the law, no one is required to conform to their anatomical sex appearance. If a male desires to be female for a day, he will be addressed as a she, or a ze, or a hir, not as a him or he. He will not be required to wear pants or ties. He will dress as he pleases and not be harassed. He is not required to wear a name tag with his real name if he wishes to use another, such as ‘Jane’ to replace ‘John.’ He can use the personal pronoun Mrs. instead of Mr. and use any gym locker room or toilet. What freedom to be able to go to the male or female toilet whenever one pleases, depending on how they feel at the moment of bladder or colon desire and fulfillment.


Note: The intentional refusal to recognize these civil rights by those who are less equal than others, they will be subject to fines from $125,000 to $250,000. Our leaders and lawmakers, as if by magic and sorcery, deem all this to be so.

gender; 1. Grammer. a. Any set of two or more categories, such as masculine, feminine, and neuter, into which words are divided according to sex, animation, psychological associations, or some other characteristic. and that determine agreement with or the selection of modifiers, referents, or grammatical forms.

Remember boys and girls when grammatical gender had to do with words, when it was a system of noun classification that included masculine and feminine categories. Masculine nouns were words for men, boys and male animals. Feminine nouns were words for women, girls and female animals.

Some examples are: bridegroom, bride; brother, sister; dad, mum; father, mother; husband, wife; son, daughter. Some nouns can be used for both masculine and feminine; baby, child, infant, parent, ….. and teacher.

But that was yesterday when Adam and Eve and God’s reality made more sense than man’s present day reality.




New York Values

Values are principles, standards, or qualities considered worthwhile or desirable.

Those who are pro-life, believe in the second amendment and are anti-gay, according to Governor Cuomo; “they have no place in the state of New York because that’s not who New Yorkers are.” And who are these New Yorkers?

imageGovernor Cuomo says that Senator Ted Cruz is dividing the country when he attacked New York values. (Andy, the country is already divided, and isn’t this a good thing? Divide and rule.) Has the good non-conforming Catholic Governor Cuomo gotten married yet, or is he still shacking-up with his girlfriend? Good for him, why marry and make a commitment to the one you love when it’s not necessary?

At least he isn’t roaming around screwing another man’s wife as was the hobby of former Governor Paterson who replaced former Governor ‘Socks’ Spitzer after he got caught balling some prostitute.  There were a pair of New York leaders who were full of New York values. All three of these wonderful men are constantly in pursuit of what is considered worthwhile and desirable for all New Yorkers.

(For the uninformed; the vulgar slang words ‘screwing,’ and ‘balling’ are classy terms used by New Yorkers describing intimate ‘physical’ sexual relations between men and woman, having nothing to do with emotional and spiritual feeling.)

Senator Cruz does not believe in gay marriage. Is it because of the long history of marriage between a man and a woman, or is it common sense, and the absurdity of men marrying men? Or is he concerned that the acceptance of same sex marriage will be the acceptance of gay sex acts, after the kissing?

Gay sex acts are worthwhile and desirable for New Yorkers. Sodomy is a New York value.  It is considered good behavior as shown by the love for our very own present day New Yorker, Bill Clinton, who brought this conduct into the open in the Oval Office. Thank God for President Clinton and his values that are also New York qualities considered worthwhile and desirable.


And his wife, a former Senator from New York, will hopefully be in the Oval Office next year to sit in the same chair behind the same desk as where her husband once sat resolutely having gay sex. Why does Ted Cruz not understand what and who is worthwhile and desirable? New Yorkers do.


New Yorkers have no problem teaching their children that sodomy is a standard of good behavior, and with the acceptance of this deviant behavior, gay marriage will easily be accepted, as will be the acceptance of the entire gay agenda. Sodomy and the age of consent, it was Roman practice to use little boys for sexual pleasure then discard them, one day this will be an accepted New York value. New Yorkers would be hypocrites if they didn’t.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Senator Cruz, then pass it to Donald Trump.

imageNew York Mayor Bill deBlasio considers Senator Cruz to be a hypocrite for criticizing New Yorkers and their values but not refusing their money contributions. Sixteen million dollars is spent every week on drugs by the principled New Yorker, that’s 832 million dollars per year spent by the American Recreational Drug User, New York chapter.

Drug money helps grow the economy and provides jobs. It may not be donated to Senator Cruz’s campaign and with his attitude and ethical standards, why should it be?

New Yorkers believe that drug use and the money derived from it is worthwhile and desirable, look how it has helped Mexico and its people. Using drugs hurts no one, it’s a victimless crime, unlike killing. Yes, some terrorist groups such as ISIS do sell drugs to fund their projects and kill a few people but they are an exception.

Most terrorist groups such as the communist Sandinistas in Nicaragua, who killed those supported by America, didn’t have to sell drugs, they received help and support from Marxist supporters such as Bill deBlasio in the form of money, clothing and medical supplies.

“True revolutionaries do not flaunt their radicalism. They cut their hair, put on suits, and infiltrate from within.” Saul Alinsky

imageNew Yorkers, unlike Ted Cruz, embrace the ethical standards of Marxist Che Guevarra and the leadership of Melissa-Mark Viverito. Melissa is Speaker of the New York City Council. She has New York values. She was recently fined $7000 for accepting free consulting services from a lobbying group. She also had to pay $3796.44 to this lobbing group, their normal fee in an uncorrupt city with values opposite New York’s. Fortunately Melissa can pay her fine and fee with money from her campaign fund, or taxpayer money. It was a no-risk deal for Melissa who wants to continue her work creating a more free and just New York City for all.

So what do you think about those New York values, Senator Cruz? And when are the ‘Free Chapo’ tee shirts coming out? Senator Cruz just doesn’t get what New Yorkers want in their value system.


Abortion is good for the country as well as New York, something Senator Cruz does not understand. It is a desirable and worthwhile goal to eliminate from society the children of unwed mothers who are poor, on welfare and will someday be a burden on the American taxpayer.


New Yorkers embrace Nancy Pelosi and her values. She loves her children and grandchildren but not the children of others. She also shares the values of New Yorkers who believe contraceptives need a good back-up plan and abortion provides this plan. And besides, babies are a dime a dozen. So what’s the problem, Senator Cruz?

Former Mayor Bloomberg, a New Yorker, will not be discussed here but his values can be found in a previous blog titled ‘Gun Control and Moral Character.’

One more thing; there’s always ‘one more thing;’ If one really wants to know about New York values, take a good look at the Daily News’ caricature of the Statue of Liberty giving the finger to a Texas Senator who is pro-life, against gay marriage and believes in the 2nd amendment, all corrupt vices to the New Yorker and opposite of their requirements of good moral character. It’s a typical reaction from those who cannot defend their position in a debate. And this comes from the adult New Yorker, not the grammer school New Yorker. Nyet, not yet, but they will learn when Mr. and Mrs. New Yorker teach them the qualities they hold dear and consider worthwhile and desirable.



Four Very Short Stories About Love

Note:  The following stories are make-believe, they are not true but are based upon true stories. My attorneys have informed me that there is not yet a law forbidding the writing of make-believe stories, but just in case, they have advised me to pack a bag.


When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Biga Pizza Pie…

imageI don’t have any bad memories about eating a slice of pizza, don’t have any good ones either. Some things aren’t that memorable and eating pizza is one of them. Memory is for important things such as comments made by Ralph, the owner of ‘Remember Pizza’ in Indiana, to the local TV station regarding the catering of a gay wedding.

“Hey Mr. Pizza pie maker,” called out Walter, the TV man, to the owner of ‘Remember Pizza’ who was finishing his forth can of beer and about to spread a ladle full of tomato sauce onto the pizza dough. “I got a question for you. If two gay gays came in here and told you they were going to be married to each other next month and wanted ‘Remember Pizza’ to cater their wedding of 200 people, would you do it?”

“What the hell you talking about,” asked Ralph, “and why you got a TV camera in my store? You want to buy a slice of pizza? I’ll sell you a slice of pizza, if not, take a hike. And what do you mean two guys getting married. Since when do men marry men?

“The Supreme Court said girls can marry girls and boys can marry boys, it’s the law of the land,” said Walter, “and we are taking a survey to see if businesses will cater gay weddings.”

“Holy crap,” said Ralph in ashtonishment taking his gold crucifix hanging from his neck in his two floured fingers and kissing it, “and you want to know if I would make pizza pies for 200 people at some gay guys wedding.”

“Well would you?” Asked Walt.

“Hell no,” answered Ralph, “I wouldn’t serve these people ‘pigs in a blanket’ and besides, how would I keep all these pies hot and deliver them to some catering hall?”

“So your answer is no,” asked Walter, “you wouldn’t cater a gay wedding, is that what you are telling all of Indiana and the gay community?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said Ralph, “but look, anybody can come to my pizza place and I’ll serve them a slice, just don’t tell me if you are gay or not, because I don’t care, just order a slice, eat and off you go. Why is it so damn important to let me know you have sex with where my pizza is going, and also, from where it will come out from a few days later. You know what I mean?”

It was Walter’s turn to be ashtonished.

Ralph said to himself he needs another beer and went to the fridge. He thought of all the money he could make selling 25 pies plus the delivery, and he  turned to Walter and said, “You know, if these two homo guys wanted to bring their reception onto the sidewalk and line up in a nice way, then maybe I could make the pies and serve them each a nice hot slice or two.”

“So you would cater a gay wedding?” Asked Walter.

Ralph opened his beer and mumbled something while fingering his golden crucifix. “No. Forget what I said, I don’t want anything to do with this gay wedding stuff. I will not cater a gay wedding. It’s against my religion, and I wouldn’t feel right about supporting any gay stuff. It’s bad enough they are allowed to adopt kids, and look what the Catholic priests did. Once you legalize these people we’ll have a country full of Jerry Sanduskys. No never. You want a slice of pizza?”

Ralph went home that night and caught the ten o’clock news, and there was Walter outside his pizza shop telling all of Indiana and America that he was a homophobic, beer guzzling religious bigot who hated gays and called them pigs in bed under their blankets.

Soon after Walt’s report Ralph got some disturbing news from his daughter who was chirping on Twitter. People were chirping that they were going to burn down Ralph’s ‘Remember Pizza’ parlor, murder Ralph and his family, and never buy a slice of pizza from his establishment ever again, which wasn’t saying much if Ralph was dead and his pizza place burned to the ground.

Ralph got hold of his golden crucifix in his hand and said a few prayers. He went to his room, packed a small bag and grabbed a few beers and was out of the house. Halfway down the block he realized he should go back and get his daughter and the rest of the family. They all went into hiding and haven’t been seen since. Ralph loves his family, sometimes he forgets.

Walt reported this and said the loss of one family was a small price to pay for the civil right of every man and woman to love whomever they want, even in unusual ways. Walter closed the report with his famous TV saying; “And that’s the way it was.”

It was a lovely broadcast.

The End


Let Them Eat Cake

imageIt was a lovely morning. Baker Bob was preparing cupcakes in the shops kitchen, filling the trays with batter, baking and slopping on icing when they cooled. He’s been at it since 5am. Bob loved his work as a baker, the lovely smells from different cake and cookie batter, the fillings and toppings. Soon the sun would rise above the horizon, as it does every day, and its lovely rays will fill the front of his ‘Have Another Cookie’ pastry shop.

Baker Bob’s wife, Antoinette, came in about eight o’clock and she really looked like crap. Bob mistakenly pointed this out to Antoinette who exploded with a fusillade of French curse words completely shattering the mornings lovelyness. Baker Bob never learned French but knew when it was time to retreat back into the kitchen. He was making black and white cookies. There was a new law in the state legislature about to be passed that would prohibit these cookies until one third of the cookie was also in brown. Antoinette went to the bathroom to freshen up, comb her hair and apply some makeup to present a new and lovely face to the customers who would arrive at the 9am opening time.

Business was good. Life was good. And so were the pastries. But there were dark clouds just below the horizon. Around noon Bob and Antoinette were manning the front counter when in came Mrs. O’Really and her daughter Gomphrena to order a wedding cake. Baker Bob got his clipboard to write down pertinent information and asked Mrs. O’Really for the names of the bride and groom.

“Oh there is no groom,”said Mrs. O’Really, “it’s two lovely brides, my daughter here, Gomphrena, and her partner whose name is Lisianthus. It’s a lesbian wedding so we will need two bride figurines for the top of the cake.”

“Oh really,” said Baker Bob, “well I’m sorry but we don’t cater to same sex weddings, and we can’t make your wedding cake because of our Christian beliefs.” He put down his clipboard, clicked off his ball point pen and carefully placed it in his shirt pocket plastic pen and pencil holder.

What do you mean you can’t make a wedding cake for my daughter, said Mrs. O’Really. “For Christ’s sake this is the twenty-first century.”

Antoinette spoke-up. “We will not support anything from the LGBTABCD and E agenda. It’s all unnatural and against our God’s law.”

“You both have some pair,” said Mrs. O’Really.

“Not true,” said Antoinette, “Bob maybe, but not me, you really are confused aren’t you?”

Hearing this Gomphrena was devastated. She appeared as if she was about to collapse and had to be helped out of the shop by her stunned mother who glared back at Antoinette. Baker Bob quickly retreated into the kitchen to wash some pots and pans.

Gomphrena was crying and her nose was running as she told her mother. “We deserve equal accommodations, equal rights and the right to get married.”

“I know, I know, said Mrs. O’Really who knew the mantra by heart along with several other gay slogans from listening to her daughter and friends for several years. “Don’t worry sweetie,” consoling her daughter, “we’ll find another cake maker, here blow your nose.” All the while thinking about Entemans cakes.

Lisianthus was pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor sharpening her carving knife on the steel and fuming while listening to her future bride retell the horrid rejection story. The rare roast beef sat in a pool of blood on the serving platter waiting its fate.

Mrs. O’Really was on the phone speaking with a friend who worked for Oregon Labor Commissioner Brad Nailem. Words and phrases like “burn them,” “homophobic Christian bastards,” “cut his little halls off,” and other wordy pleasantries echoed from the corner of the room where she stood facing the wall admiring a lovely portrait of a weaving Penelope waiting for her husband.

The lovely bridesmaids Parodia, Opuntia, Crassula and Frithia were picking through a pile of LGBTABCD and E protest posters looking for something appropriate to use at the ‘Have Another Cookie’ pastry shop. They came up dry. “Hands Up Don’t Shoot” wouldn’t do.

Lisianthus bellowed, “Dinner is ready.” The meat was carved and the baked potatoes were piping hot. Another half inch of lovely rich, red roast beef blood was added to the serving platter after carving. Lisianthus lined up seven shot glasses and spooned them full of blood adding a pinch of salt.

“Here’s to Baker Bob and Antoinette.” Toasted Lisianthus. “Let’s eat.”

After dinner Mrs. O’Really informed the girls what her friend at the Labor Department recommended doing to maximize the damages inflicted upon the lovely Gomphrena and Lisianthus. The Commissioner would need a list of physical, emotional and mental damages suffered by the two brides. Lisianthus handed out sticky pads to everyone and they began to write what they thought may have resulted from being refused a wedding cake by Baker Bob and his lovely wife Antoinette. Each little note was slapped down and stuck to the kitchen table. The best of the sufferings was arranged and typed up.

“An acute loss of confidence, doubt, excessive sleep, felt mentally raped, dirty and shameful, high blood pressure, impaired digestion, loss of appetite, migraine headaches, pale and sick at home after work, resumption of smoking habit, shock, stunned, surprise, uncertainty, weight gain, worry and global warming.”

Several days later Mrs. O’Really received a call from her inside man at the Oregon Labor Department. He gave high praise to the two brides and the bridesmaids for such diligent workmanship and told Mrs. O’Really that he relayed the woeful tale of Gomphrena and Lisianthus to Commissioner Nailem and delivered him the list of suffering. The Commisioner was ashtonished that this had happened in America, the land of the free and home of the brave, and after itemizing each of the perceived damages with a monetary value, he came up with the total sum of 135,000 dollars. A registered letter was sent to the ‘Have Another Cookie’ pastry shop where dark clouds were forming above. Pay this amount or else was the message, along with a gag order for Baker Bob and Antoinette to ‘cease and desist’ from talking about not wanting to bake a cake for same sex weddings based upon their religious beliefs.

America may be the land of the free, but Oregon State Commissioner of Labor, Brad Nailem, would determine who had freedom of religion and speech.

The marriage of Baker Bob and his wife Antoinette was becoming stronger. They stuck together and laughed at the Commissioner’s fine and his ‘cease and desist’ bullshit. As for the magnificent seven; Mrs. O’Really, Gomphrena, Lisianthus, Parodia, Opuntia, Crassula, and Frithia; Baker Bob baked and mailed to each of them a small six inch diameter chocolate cake with vanilla icing. On top was written “We Really Do Love You” in lovely rich, blood red raspberry filling.

Antoinette made lovely little pastry cookie cards signing each, “With Love From The ‘Have Another Cookie’ Pastry Shop, And May You All Eat Cake.”

Lisianthus sharpened her knife.

The End


Flower House

Peagoda has been running her ‘Flower House and Gift Shop’ for more than 30 years. She sold gifts and crafted lovely flower arrangements for all sorts of occasions from baby showers to funerals. Most of her flower arrangements had to do with ‘love,’ the falling in and the falling out, and the falling back in again kind of love.

Her good friend Gasterio was in love. She had known him for ten years. He often stopped by to talk about flowers, especially how to arrange them in lovely and meaningful ways. Sometimes he would stop in just to smell the flowers. Peagoda didn’t really approved of this nor did her customers who thought it strange seeing a grown man going from one flower to another smelling its fragrance. It took several hours to smell the whole shop. Peagoda asked Gasterio to please stop smelling the flowers individually and smell them all collectively. Gasterio wasn’t pleased with this but complied with Peagoda’s wishes. They were true and understanding friends. Now Gasterio would stand in the middle of the ‘Flower House’ shop with eyes closed, and a slight smile, slowly and deeply inhaling and slowly exhaling all the shops aromas. But it wasn’t the same.

One day Gasterio came to see Peagoda. He was extremely excited and happy and announced to her that he was going to get married. His life partner, Malphoro, proposed last night while they were watching an episode of “Will and Grace” on TV. Gasterio asked Peagoda if she would participate in his wedding and create a lovely gay themed flower arrangement for this special occasion. Peagoda’s Christian upbringing taught her that we should all love all people. She new that Gasterio was gay but it didn’t matter to her, until now.

“Gasterio, we have been friends for a long time,” said Peagoda, “and I would like to continue our friendship but my Christian belief does not allow me to condone or contribute to a same sex wedding. Please understand my position.”

“Well, I am very disappointed Peagoda, but I do understand.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Peagoda, “and I can give you the names of several florists who would be happy to create a flower arrangement for you and Malphoro’s wedding.”

“Oh that’s okay,” said Gasterio, “we will find someone who truly believes in love and marriage for everyone.”

“So we are still friends,” asked Peagoda.

Gasterio reached out and gave Peagoda a big hug. “Of course we’re still friends, we will always be friends,” said Gasterio.

Gasterio turned and left the Flower House for the last time thinking to himself, “God, what a bitch, I’ll get even with her.” And he would. He would return one day in another form.

It must have been a little bird who informed Washington State Attorney General Larry Lynch about the horrid woman from the ‘Flower House and Gift Shop’ who sanctimoniously snubbed and refused Gasterio and Malphoro a lovely flower arrangement for their wedding, dashing and shattering their happiness. “By God this women will pay for her audacity, no one has the right to dash and shatter anyone’s happiness in the great state of Washington,” said Attorney General Lynch to his entire staff of assistant attorneys. He filed suit against Peagoda. She now faced personal liability for her religious beliefs, and Larry, who was to be Gasterio’s best man at the wedding, was also going to stop Peagoda from creating any more wedding flower arrangements.

Gasterio and Malphoro with ACLU attorneys also filed suit that would financially devastate Peagoda’s business and personal assets. Gasterio returned to the ‘Flower House’ in a sealed envelope that demanded a return receipt signature from Peagoda, acknowledging she received notice of what may be a bleak future, all in the name of love.

Peagoda thought to herself. “If only there were a land where one could express oneself in unfettered freedom. If only there were a land where we all had artistic freedom and the right to disagree without one side of a conversation being threatened by the government.”

The freedom to live and work according to one’s belief about marriage expired the day same sex marriage became law. Peagoda thought about this for awhile and decided to arrange some flowers for a funeral, it was the death of freedom. Maybe it would also be an appropriate arrangement for a same sex marriage.

At center was the Pitcher plant, surrounded by lovely hemlock…

The End


I’m Getting Married in the Morning

imageJimmy Jumpup and Vanilla Berries were on the road for quite a few hours, it was getting dark and they decided to stop in at a seedy roadside motel, due to a limited budget, and get some sleep. They wanted to be well rested before making their historical appearance at the Rowen County courthouse in Kentucky. They drove all the way from Columbus, Ohio to get their marriage license. One might think that the reason they were going to Kentucky was because Ohio ran out of applications, but no this was about love.

Actually they heard that some woman was refusing to issue marriage licenses to the GBLTABCD and E community members and they were upset with this woman’s belligerent attitude. Someone had to put her in her place and this was the mission of Jimmy Jumpup and Vanilla Berries. She will obey.

Delphinium wasn’t a very imposing woman, coming in at 4’6″ and 130 pounds, but her job position gave her plenty of wallop. She worked at the Rowen County courthouse for ten years performing the duties of County Clerk and was in charge of issuing all type of licenses. A license was needed for dogs and cats, horses and mules, street venders and cabs, hunting and building contractors and a host of other occupations and everyday living items. Delphinium had the muscle to legally grant or deny official authoritarian permission to do something.

Delphinium prayed twice a day, once in the morning when she got out of bed and once at night before she got back into bed. On occasion she said a prayer during the day, especially after avoiding a car accident or some other life threatening event. She was a good Christian woman, not as good as a Muslim woman, as some atheists would say, who prayed five times a day, but good enough. Then again some atheist would say that Delphinium was more good than a Muslim woman who ‘had’ to pray five times a day, or she would possibly get a good beating from her husband or get hit in the head with a rock, whereas Delphinium prayed because she believed in her God and ‘wanted’  to pray to him. Delphinium had a choice; Muslim women had better obey.

Jimmy and his future wife Vanilla sat in the car across from the courthouse. Jimmy was on the phone speaking with Perry Stalsis a BLTGABCD and E supporter from the local TV news station.

“Don’t move, stay in the car until we get there and set up our cameras,” said Perry. “We want to get a shot of you and your bride walking up the courthouse steps holding hands, and at the door before entering, turning to wave to the crowds who have come to witness history in the making.”

“Are you bringing the crowds, asked Jimmy, “because there are no people here.

“Just pretend there is a large gathering and smile and wave, said Perry, “and let me deal with it.”

Delphinium was sitting at her desk inking up her two rubber stamps on the inkpad, ‘Approved ‘ and ‘Disapproved.’ She declared to the local newspaper several weeks ago that she does not believe in same sex marriage and would have nothing to do with it. No ‘Approved’ same sex marriage license would come from her office. That’s why Jimmy Jumpup and Vanilla Berries were in Rowen County.

After waving to the imaginary cheering crowds Jimmy and Vanilla stepped inside and up to the service counter where Jimmy said to Delphinium, “Excuse me miss, where can I get me a marriage license around here.” He realized he sounded like John Kerry asking to get a hunting license way back when Big John was running for President. Jimmy stopped slouching and stood up straight with pride at the thought of his idol. Even Vanilla looked up at him with admiration. The cameras were rolling.

Delphinium kicked her milk crate over to the counter to stand on so she could see over and work at the counter. She asked the cameraman what was he doing in her courthouse and Jimmy told her, “Oh, he’s making a video of our wedding from beginning to… whenever.”

Delphinium asked Jimmy, “Where’s the bride?” She told him she had to be here to sign the papers for the license. Jimmy, with love in his eyes, turned to Vanilla and told Delphinium, “This is Vanilla Berries, my future bride and wife.”

Oh shit, thought Delphinium. She didn’t know what to say, and after looking over at Vanilla in his blue tank top and red Capri pants and pale white skin, she asked Jimmy if Vanilla was a woman. “No miss, not yet, Vanilla is a man like me but we have the right to get married and we want a marriage license. The Supreme Court said we can get married.”

“Well then,” said Delphinium, “you just take yourself and your future lady friend and go to Washington DC to their little courthouse to get your marriage license. We don’t recognize same sex marriage in Rowen County, Kentucky and we ain’t going to approve of any gay marriage license.”

Delphinium picked up her ‘Disapproved’ rubber stamp and went from inkpad to an open newspaper on the counter, stamping and stamping and stamping until an office worker came over and gently grabbed her hand. “Get a grip on yourself Delphinium,” said the office worker. The idea that that queer little man would come into her courthouse dressed as he was in tank top and Capri pants was outrageous. On the newspapers front page was a picture of Muslim women in all black burkas with ‘Disapproved ‘ stamped all over them. One extreme to another thought Delphinium. Christians dress modestly. But the atheist would say that Muslim women dressed more modestly than Christian women, therefore, are more virtuous. But then again, some Muslim women have been beaten to death for decorating their burka with some simple beads. May Allah help them if they go outside not properly dressed in their black tents. Virtue is not virtue if imposed by threat of a beating or being hit in the head with a rock. Delphinium smiled thinking about Vanilla Berries in his cute outfit marrying a Muslim, man or woman.

“Okay that’s a wrap,” said Perry Stalsis.

They all left the courthouse and were greeted outside by about five or six gay rights activists who just heard about history being made in Rowen County. They were waving their gay rainbow flag and cheering for Jimmy and Vanilla. Perry paid them each five dollars and the crowd dispersed. They were very disappointed with today’s history.

Two days later Delphinium was arrested, made to wear an orange jumpsuit, paraded before the news cameras and spent the next ten days in jail for not doing her job. A judge told the others working at the courthouse that if they didn’t issue same sex marriage licenses they would also be tossed into the clink. Something a Muslim man would never do to Delphinium.

Love and lunacy prevailed.

The End

Gun Control and Moral Character

Several years ago I had written a letter to Vince McGowan, President of the United War Veterans Council on why his organization should not have a parade for Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans in New York City. Unfortunately, this letter also contains information that would be very helpful for President Obama’s gun control agenda, especially after a national gun registry program is instituted. In order to confiscate American’s firearms all he would have to do is declare that ‘the people,’ for one reason or another, lack a good moral character. New York City does it this way and it works. The letter follows:

Dear Mr. McGowan:

Your intention on giving the Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans a parade is good. They deserve recognition for their service. But don’t have it in New York City, have it in a Midwestern or Southern city among people who truly appreciate what these men and women did by serving their country, and helping the people of Iraq and Afghanistan to perhaps acquire one day a government that affords freedom, equality, and peace and justice for all their citizens.

New York City and this country did not give a parade to the Vietnam veteran. The veterans gave themselves a parade, ten years after the war ended. Why they did this, I don’t know. What was so important about being recognized in a parade for having served and fought for their country, a country with a government who abandoned the South Vietnamese? And I must add, with the help of present day Secretary of State John Kerry. Personally, I didn’t want or have anything to do with a parade. When I finished my three years of service, all I wanted was a job; and to live with the memory, that as a soldier, not a warrior, regardless of what my government did, I fought for the Vietnamese.

These Vietnam veterans had their ego inflated for an afternoon and were cheered by a captive audience. If their parade was on a Sunday and not on a workday with office buildings full, they would have marched to the sounds of silence. And what exactly do the office workers dump out their windows? Don’t fall for this parade business in New York City. Leave the Canyon of Heroes for baseball and football players. The accomplishments and service of veterans are not in the same league as celebrities, or to be used for political ends, be proud of what you have done in the military, and pass on your belief and experience to your children. If your organization and the people of this country want to honor veterans for their service and sacrifice; by all means do it. But beware of the politicians from New York who give praise and honor veterans. Beware of those who have taken the same oath as you when entering the military, but fail to live up to or defend the substance, the essential nature of what they took an oath to defend. Former New York City Mayor Bloomberg and present day Mayor de Blasio along with Senator Schumer, and a long list of other New Yorkers, will give you praise and honor and a head full of superficial emotional hot air that will dissipate along with the cheers of the crowds, and at the same time gut the document you believe in and would defend with your life.

In life the most important thing to any man is his work, without a job he will have nothing. Perhaps Columbia University and NYU and all the other surrounding centers of higher education will come out and praise and honor the Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans, not with a parade but with something substantial such as a good education and or training, if not for the veteran, then a scholarship for their children. But a parade in New York City is easier, four or five hours and they’re gone, sweep up the debris, and once again they’re forgotten and ignored.

Why not to have the parade in New York City?

I have read the following in the document that we as veterans had taken an oath to defend; “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

Substitute “the United States” with Iraq, Afghanistan or Vietnam in the above paragraph, and you will know one reason why we fight for other people in foreign lands, another reason is for all men to have what they really want, the “mother of all desires,” wrote Tocqueville, his well-being: the state of being healthy, happy or prosperous; his welfare.

Some say an injustice to one is an injustice to all. And if one veteran, a decorated Vietnam veteran, a combat veteran, was unnecessarily and without good reason deprived of his property, and also denied the equal protection of the law by New York City government, would you consider this to be an offense toward all veterans? Would you defend this fellow veteran? And would veterans want to be honored by a city and its government who would allow such things to happen; who would disregard the welfare of a fellow veteran?

Earlier this year I wrote to Mayor de Blasio asking him for help on being reimbursed by New York City for the replacement value of my Winchester Stainless Marine 12 gauge shotgun and Browning .22 semi-automatic rifle that were destroyed by the NYPD Property Clerk’s Office, a total value of $1200. The Mayor’s Office relayed this letter to the NYPD Legal Bureau who informed me to put in a claim to the Comptrollers office. This I did, but the claim was denied. ‘Time,’ was the answer, I did not submit my claim in a timely manner. And slipping in a quote from testimony by former Secretary and former New York State Senator at the inquiry on what happened in Benghazi: “What difference does it make?” What difference does time make when fighting for one’s rights? It’s a good question, and it should be answered by New York City where you want to hold a parade to honor veterans.

And how did my firearms end up in the hands of the NYPD for “safekeeping?”

On November 12 and 13, 2000 I wrote letters to my neighbor, American Legion Post #253, complaining about their loud weekend parties. These letters were written in defense of my health, my property, my neighboring family with two small children, and to bring attention to a ‘quality of life’ problem. They were looked upon as being threatening by the the members from this American Legion post, and they took out a complaint report for aggravated harassment on November 20, 2000, but refused to prosecute. I wonder why?

For ten years, ever since they opened their new building on Longstreet Ave. in 1990, they abused a schoolteacher, his wife and their two young children with their loud weekend parties. I built my home on my property located next door to Post #253 in this residential neighborhood of Throgs Neck. I made an investment in New York City. For two years, from 1998 to 2000 I put up with the loud parties, then I said ‘enough.’ Previous complaints made directly to the members from this post by me and my neighbor, were ignored. We both asked each other: What do we do to stop this so we can sleep in our own homes without being disturbed on the weekends? We can call the cops, but we knew how that works as do most New Yorkers who made noise complaints back then, and today. In New York City you have the right to complain, and that’s where it ends. It’s a right that exists in the realm where Newspeak is the official language; ‘War is Peace’ and ‘safekeeping is to destroy’ which is a pass-me-down from the days of Oldspeak; “We had to destroy the village in order to save it.”

And why didn’t the American Legion prosecute me?

The details from the Complaint Report for aggravated harassment read that I intentionally annoyed, harassed, threatened and alarmed the members from the American Legion. But who was really annoying whom? Who was harassing or disturbing or persistently irritating their immediate neighbors with their loud weekend parties? Who was double parking and parking in driveways and hydrants? And who felt threatened or intimidated long before any letters were written?

One can be hurt in a bar as was a friend of mine who had a beer bottle stuck in his neck by some drunken troll. Complaining about a loud party to a group of veterans who believe they have special rights and privileges because they once served in the military must be done with caution. I go to the James J. Peters Medical Center every six weeks and pass through the metal detectors, and I read the signs about no weapons, no guns or knives. Is this security for terrorists or is it for some veterans, or is it simply because it’s the Bronx? I was alarmed and felt fear whenever I entered the American Legion to confront them and make a complaint about the noise. And the real reason why they dropped the complaint was because what the Legion members perceived to be threatening in my letters would never hold up in a courtroom. What I wrote wasn’t all that frightening, not to any combat veteran, or any veteran, other than a handful of pretentious pricks with an agenda.

Detective Gonzalez from the 45 Pct. closed out the case. There was no arrest, the American Legion refused to prosecute. And the parties would continue at American Legion Post #253 on Longstreet Ave., in the Bronx, and in the great City of New York, for seven more years.

One month later on December 22, 2000, I received a letter advising me that my rifle/shotgun permit was suspended as the result of the complaint report made against me for aggravated harassment. I was ordered to surrender my registered firearms to the 45th Precinct for safekeeping, and mail my permit and the Property Clerk’s Invoice to the License Division which I did on December 22, 2000.

There are other ways to get at someone if an empty complaint report doesn’t work. Or did it work, not as originally designed or intended, but in another way? Even though the complaint was dropped by the considerate and charitable Legion members who were showing compassion to a fellow veteran, it still allowed New York City’s NYPD License Division to make a thorough investigation of me and my letters that were purged out of all ambiguity and shades of meaning, cherry picked for sentences and phrases and words, all taken out of context or content, I can never get these words right, and interjecting from their imagination a reality to the written imaginary violence, an injustice to any writer, and then forming an opinion that I was a person who lacked the moral character to possess a Rifle/Shotgun permit. And my permit would be revoked by the authority of New York City Police Commission Bernard Kerik, who recently got out of prison, and the best of luck to him, his family and his future.

I made several attempts to have my permit returned to legally recover my property. I requested and was granted an administrative hearing held at One Police Plaza on October 17, 2001, where I failed the License Division’s “reasonable man test,’ and it was determined that my permit would remain revoked. I never heard of a ‘reasonable man test.’ If I did, I would have studied for it, and perhaps I could have passed the test and today still have the right to own and possess a firearm in New York City; as I still do in any other city in New York State. I sometimes wonder if the men who wrote the document we once took an oath to defend ever consider to have all citizens tested for reasonableness before granting them any special rights. I do know they considered virtue a necessary requirement for maintaining freedom in our democratic republic. They also knew that honor was a monarchy, and fear a tyranny, something Thomas Jefferson prayed to God to give him the strength to always fight against.

I appealed New York City’s determination by commencing an Article 78 with the New York Supreme Court, Appellate Division on January 23, 2002. And one year later on January 9, 2003, the Supreme court unanimously confirmed that my moral character was firmly intact, and it was “ungood.” Therefore, I could not possess a Rifle/Shotgun permit in New York City. But nowhere did they say I could not own and possess a firearm outside of New York City. All my rights were intact, regardless of my morality, on the corner of Ropes Ave. located just over the bridge on the Post Road that crosses the Hutchinson River to Pelham. This river was named after Anne Hutchinson who was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony for “traducing ministers” from Boston. She was a troublemaker who organized weekly meetings of Boston women to discuss sermons and her own theological views. She criticized Massachusetts Puritans for what she considered to be their narrowly legalistic concept of morality. She established a settlement on the island of Aquidneck, a part of Rhode Island. After her husband died in 1642, she settled on Long Island Sound at Pelham Bay. Later, in 1643 this troublemaker along with her servants and children, save one, would be killed by Indians. Anne would have been a good neighbor. Off on a tangent.

And to all this and to New York City, I say ‘fine.’ Take away my permission to possess a firearm in New York City because I lack a good moral character, but please don’t be so T-Rex or tyrant-like, and return my property.

I should have been allowed to keep my property, if not in New York City where I was born and reside, than elsewhere in New York or the United States where I am recognized as a citizen deserving of all my rights: my right to own and possess a firearm in my home, and the right not to be deprived of my property for no good reason, other than a political agenda. Why does New York City infringe upon the privileges  that veterans fight and die for to protect? Why should it cost a veteran ten cents or less for their right to own and possess a firearm in their home? Is it the tall buildings, the morality of the people or simply because they don’t trust them? And what a shame it is that even the military imitates New York City. It does not trust its soldiers, but they should at least allow all Officers and senior NCOs at Fort Hood and other military bases to carry side arms for a possible faster response to a shooting. I stray again.

And the loud parties continued, an the illegal parking continued, and the occasional whiff of pot could be detected coming from American Legion Post #253 on warm summer nights, and on Sunday mornings before their meeting. The letters did solve 90% of the noise problem. They kept their windows and doors closed. But I could still hear the loud music in my home, and on occasion they would get out of hand. I had to stay on top of them for seven more years while they exercised their freedom and their right to do as they damn pleased.

On the night of January 24, 2004, I was arrested and spent two days in jail, and on March 18th in Criminal Court, I pleaded guilty to disorderly conduct and damaging a person’s property. I was ordered to pay restitution of $407.53 through Victim Services with a 5% surcharge of $20.37 and to comply with an order of protection.

I had entered Post #253 while they were having a party and cut the plug from the DJ’s sound equipment and presented it to the bartender. I had spoken earlier with the DJ and told him about the loud party problem, and asked him not to play the music to loud. He said he wouldn’t, but by 10 PM he must have forgotten. After three full years of making complaints to Post #253, the local precinct, the mayor’s new Quality of Life Hotline, and the Department of Environmental Protection, the parties continued, and once again, I had enough. My conduct was not disorderly in any way. I knew exactly what I was going to do that night. I went in earlier to find where the noise machine was plugged into. The plan of attack was to get in, after overcoming some initial fear, complete the mission and get out before anyone could react. It was disorderly conduct only in the realm where the official language is Newspeak. The realm where charitable; the concern with human welfare and the alleviation of suffering, was selfishness; the realm of the American Legion whose motto was “For God and Country” and their mission was “To Promote Peace and Goodwill on Earth,” with benevolent exception for the family and children next door, along with the veteran whom they believed was suffering from PTSD.

Several months before, in November of 2003 I met with the 45th Precinct’s Community Affairs officer. I mentioned that if nothing is done about this noise problem that I would take care of it myself. She told me I would end up in the ‘system’ if I do anything. She recommended seeing then District Manager James Vacca which I did along with Legion member Pat Devine. I told them the same thing, if they don’t do something, I will, and unfortunately for me, my word is good, unlike some people who draw a line in the sand, and wait for the wind to blow it away. I was tired of worrying every weekend, not so much about another loud party, but my reaction to it. How would I react to this constant abuse with no end in sight or any real available solution? How do I deal with the tax exempt and charitable American Legion Post #253 protected by New York City’s breech of duty? I damaged the DJ’s property but was it a crime to defend myself?

The letters worked and so did this action. When I went home I couldn’t hear a thing coming from the Legion. It was quiet and peaceful as it should be in the home of any New Yorker living in a residential neighborhood. Was this the answer? Yes it was and no it wasn’t. I held in my mind two contradictory beliefs simultaneously, and accepted them both. It was “doublethink” in its purest form. But in less than ten minutes there were plenty of red flashing lights in the street bouncing off the trees and neighboring homes. They called the emergency number 911 and said I had a knife and was still somewhere in the building. About eight cops showed up, and I turned in my electrical pliers, was cuffed and whisked away to an Orwellian “joycamp.” I was now inclined , due to the reality of my present situation, to favor more the latter of my doublethought. But then again, if I am forced to choose between cowardice and violence, according to Mahatma Gandhi and the Law of the Sword, I should choose violence.

It is good that in New York City, where you want to have your parade to honor veterans in the great Canyon of Heroes, we have a government to protect the DJ and the American Legion from people like me, and also to let me know that there are certain rules of civil conduct that command what is right and prohibit what is wrong. The rule of law is what America is based upon and is designed to promote the general welfare (health and happiness) and to protect its citizens. And no person should be denied the equal protection of the law of this state as it is written in Section 11 of the New York State Constitution. Whether or not New York City is required to obey the laws of New York State or the United States, I am not really sure. For all I know with my encounters with the law, New York City may have a law that requires some New York City citizens to be denied the equal protection. I just hope it’s not only veterans but all New York City residents. I would hate to live in a city where “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” That would be very “doubleplusungood.”

And after four or six years of abuse from this charitable, tax exempt organization that caused anger, resentment and at times fear; dealing with a police department omitting to enforce any laws, and politicians and government agencies ignoring therefore condoning the problem, it made me realize that I was a veteran and a person not worthy of any consideration from New York City. I was living in a hostile environment. It was not as hostile as War Zone C in Vietnam nor was it as stressful, but it did take its toll. In January 2005 I developed a heart condition, and later in the year was admitted into the VA hospital at Kingsbridge Road, where every six weeks or so I go through metal detectors and read the sign prohibiting guns and knives and other weapons, before they take my blood. This sign also reminded me of the article written in the Bronx Times Reporter on January 12, 2006, and the lies told by the American Legion about me and a knife I supposedly used to cut the DJ’s electrical chord, and how the police took away my “pistols” of which I never owned or possessed.

And the parties continued at Post #253 on Longstreet Ave. in the Bronx, in the City of New York where there will be a big parade honoring and praising veterans who fought for all this democracy and freedom in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. It makes me want to make an apple pie.

Why did New York City deprive a veteran of his property?

According to the City of New York, I had to dispose of my property. I had to sell or give away my firearms either to a licensed dealer or individual with a permit. I did not want to sell my firearms. I had no desire to throw them away or to give them away. There was no reason for me to sell my firearms. There was no reason for New York City to deprive me of my property. They could have returned both firearms, and I would then remove them from the city, so everyone would feel safe. Anywhere else in America I had the right to own a firearm. I was not a criminal. The only excuse for not doing this was because I did not have a permit. I did not have New York City’s permission to possess a firearm therefore the NYPD could not return them to me. If they did, I would then be in possession of an unlicensed firearm which would be a crime, and I would be subject to arrest. It was “Catch 22.” It was New York City political indecency.

There were other options. Both firearms could have been broken down; the stock and barrel returned to me and then removed from the city, and then do the same for the trigger mechanism. While in the city I would never be in possession of a complete and functional firearm.

Both firearms could have been returned at the Bronx/Pelham border. It would be no trouble to meet police officers from the 45th Precinct at the corner of Ropes Avenue on the other side of the bridge on Boston Post Road that crosses over Anne Hutchinson’s River. I took the time and turned in my firearms at the 45th Precinct when ordered. The police department could also have taken the time to return my property.

I once read, when General Grant put pen to paper writing out the terms of surrender for General Lee and his Army of Northern Virginia, he thought about the officers who had their own private horses and effects, which were important to them, but of no value to the Union Army; he also thought that it would be an unnecessary humiliation to call upon them to deliver their side arms. “The Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant”

I also read in a book (that are like bricks to build things), a basic principle of law, “one cannot be punished for merely considering the commission of a crime or for thinking in such a way that a body determines that one might undertake action contrary to the law.” I digress .

Why should I be reimbursed for the loss of my property?

I committed no serious crime. I was not arrested for committing a serious crime. I was not convicted of a serious crime. I was not a felon. I was only accused of a crime; the crime of using my pen, the first weapon in Winston Churchill’s armory to solve a problem that the American Legion, the NYPD and New York City government would refuse to address. It wasn’t even a thought-crime. It was ink on paper asking the question: How do you want to solve this noise problem? what means for the resolution of this conflict should we use, the pen, reason and common sense, the Law, or the sword?

For the improper writing and the violation of Section 8 of the New York State Constitution that states: “Every citizen may freely speak, write and publish his sentiments on all subjects, being responsible for the abuse of that right;” the appropriate punishment should have been the removal of all my pens and pencils from my possession.

There was no reason to deprive me of my property. I had no intention on introducing Middle Eastern or inner city problem solving into Throgs Neck. If I was going to use a firearm to solve this noise problem, all I had to do was go to a sporting goods store in Westchester County and buy another firearm. If the police department was so concerned about me using a firearm, why wasn’t I arrested immediately? If they believed the so-called threats in my letters were credible; why wait 30 days before ordering me to turn in my property and leaving the Legion members at my mercy? And if they were really concerned about something violent happening; why didn’t they just solve the noise problem instead of letting it fester? Again I wander.

The City of New York has passed judgement on my moral character and determined that it was not a good moral character. For this lack of a good moral character, I say again; take away my permit, but return my property. Pay me for my loss.

In New York City where America’s veterans will one day proudly parade through the Canyon of Heroes, there is a gun buyback program that has spent more than a million dollars rewarding criminals and potential felons. They are paid $200 for each illegally possessed and unregistered firearm they turn in. None of these people had pistol or rifle/shotgun permits, none of their firearms were registered. I had a permit, and both my firearms were registered. I obeyed the law. My property was turned in for “safekeeping.” Never did I believe my government would destroy two well crafted and aesthetically pleasing firearms, but they did.

What message does New York City send out to its citizens when it rewards those who are breaking the law, and punishes a veteran who obeys the law?

“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

Seven years making complaints and writing letters to Mayor Bloomberg, District Manager James Vacca, Assemblyman Michael Benedetto and Stephen Kaufman, Congressman Joseph Crowley, Charles Rangle and Congresswoman Nita Lowey, Senator Jeffrey D. Klein, District Manager Kenneth Kearns, Senators Charles Schumer and Hillary Clinton, the Office of Borough President Adolfo Carrion, City council members, NY State Liquor Authority, the American Legion in New York and Indianapolis and all of New York City’s great watchdog newspapers; finally in September 2007, the American Legion announced in the Bronx Times Reporter that they were going to relocate and sell their building. And according to the members from American Legion Post #253, I am the reason why they were leaving Longstreet Ave., and if so, I am proud of this accomplishment, as I am for having fought for the Vietnamese.

Twenty minutes; that’s all the time it would have taken, when the Legion members were having their Sunday morning meeting, twenty minutes to to run them out of their building and off the block with a shotgun. The only thing that prevented me from doing such a thing as this was my good moral character. And may these Legion members thank their God and their Country for this.

If you meet with Senator Schumer who has influence with the Pentagon and plans to speak with them about the parade, perhaps he would speak with someone from the city or state, someone who may be able to help me to be reimbursed for the unnecessary loss of my property. It’s not to much, the replacement value is $1200 for my Winchester Stainless Marine 12 gauge shotgun and Browning .22 semi-automatic rifle. This may not seem fair or the right thing to do according to New York City, but sometimes government will make an exception. Governor Paterson once pardoned an Army sergeant and wiped a felony conviction from his record so he could join the NYPD when his service ended. It was a very considerate thing to do, and I hope this veteran finds his American Dream, the job of his choice. I wish him luck. As a veteran, who was once decorated with a Bronze Star for Valor and the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry along with other awards, I am not asking for to much, all I am asking is to be treated as a common criminal.

Also, if you would like to know more about my encounter with the American Legion and the City of New York where you plan on having the parade for the Iraq and Afghanistan veterans, which would really be a disgraceful location, and I hope you reconsider, I have written an e-book titled “This We Defend,” and it can be purchased at Amazon or Barnes and Noble or downloaded by you and your members for free at by using the free book coupon code HY49V. Awaiting the long arc of justice.

Sincerely yours,

Paul J. Farrell


Senator Charles Schumer, New York Daily News, New York Post, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Bronx Times Reporter, Creators, Editorial Review Board, Law Office of Ronald L. Kuby


The e-book mentioned above “This We Defend” has a new title “How to Solve a Noise Problem in New York City” and is available at Barnes and Noble Nook Books and at