MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE
by Michael Wolraich
Order today at Barnes & Noble / Amazon / Books-A-Million / Bookshop
MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE by Michael Wolraich Order today at Barnes & Noble / Amazon / Books-A-Million / Bookshop |
THE TREE OF LIFE
It was a tough gig. But I had learned it. You have to find
some forum, some place of trial, some experimental lab to test things.
I am no good at golf. I break all the clubs after 36 holes.
I am no good at baseball. I cannot see the frickin ball
coming.
I tried to sell insurance. Of course when you start you are
selling whiskey to alcoholics or placebos to cancer patients, it does not
really give people like me satisfaction.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulVDM0a49Lw
I tried fast food, I tried slow food, I tried food delivery....
I mean a buck an hour. Just like Willy Loman's kid. Fuck
that.
How do you decide what you wish to be anyway?
I mean you can study hard in school and pass all the tests
and then pass more tests to get into higher schools and then you can pass more
tests to get into higher schools; and then what?
Well, if you pass enough tests you can teach I suppose.
As a student I needed a part time job. So some prof said
that there was an opening for student counselors.
Well, I get down there and they want me real bad. I mean I
passed all these tests and stuff and I was 24 working on a PHD (at least that
is what I told them) and I had a clean criminal record and all because I never
got caught and I really enjoyed being a student.
So this 19 year old wanders into my first session held in
some basement mold covered room. And he has zits and he is about 120 pounds and
he is sickly with a very sad countenance. And I always learned that I really know
nothing, so I took the Rogerian angle and let him talk.
And talk he did. His dad died when he was ten and he ended
up living with an uncle who had a thing for ten year old boys that Auntie would not acknowledge..
So Sammy (his real name is Timmy but I am attempting
anonymity here) tells me that he really, really likes his uncle anyway.
So Sammy keeps up his affair with Uncle Jack (His real name
is Bob but anonymity is sooooo important) and he grows into a young man and by
age twelve, he starts being attracted to young girls, aged ten and under.
Well there are hard economic times ahead for this pathological
pedophiliac and by age 15 he is dealing crack on the street to the junior high
crowd.
Six or seven or eight (he is not sure) of the little
buggers die from bad drugs that he has sold them and he is a little depressed
about it all.
He ends up here at the big U and after a year his
grades suck. He sells MJ most of the time to help him with his coke habit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-xIulyVsG8&feature=related
So he asks me, what is
the best way to kill myself?
I immediately thought, why not just do it on cocaine.
So we discussed that for awhile and it turns out that it is
very expensive and he tried to do that seventeen times already.
So I came up with an idea.
You ever hear of liquid opium?
Oh yeah, we used to sell the pretend stuff.
So we spoke about this and I gave him a number along with
some instructions.
He would get a big bottle of scotch. He liked scotch. And
then he would draw a big bath. Then he would dip some fatties in the liquid
opium. After consuming half the bottle of Johnny Walker Black, he would lie
down in the tub and light up a fatty.
Not two weeks later, there it was in the school paper. Sammy's
obit: Dead of a Drug Overdose.
And I knew then that I had a talent. I could do this. I
could help people become free.
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, they would
be free at last.
They would be free from the vicissitudes of life.
They would be free from disappointing others. I mean all of
us end up disappointing others all the time. Think about it. How many people
have really been appointed by you?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtkVGClqrT4&feature=related
They would be free from corporate lies.
They would be free from governmental lies.
They would be free from political lies.
They would be free from community lies.
They would be forever free from familial lies.
They would be free from this lie called liberty. I mean
nobody is free. To be free you would have to forgo all that is wanted; all that
is needed. And that means death.
You would be free from relationships after all. I mean every
relationship depends upon reciprocity, as a matter of fact it demands
reciprocity. And there are those among us, and believe me I have met these
people, who have nothing to reciprocate and never will. There are those among us who have nothing to
give because they have nothing. They cannot figure out the game enough to steal
from others, which is what capitalism is based upon. They cannot figure out the
game enough to even feign to have something to give in order to provide
themselves sustenance let alone somebody else.
Kevorkian was a joke. I mean the poor idiot dying in his
hospital bed could have used his services years ago. Kevorkian simply wished to
help the person leave his excrement bag after languishing in his own shite for
months.
So, anyway, I keep up my studies cause they keep sending me scholarship monies and it's 1974 and it costs so little to go to school anyway
So Mario, this kid from the Bronx
comes into my counseling session and tells me he must kill somebody.
Well who is it that
you wish to kill, I asked innocently.
You telling the cops?
You wired?
Look at this fucking
hole you idiot. You think I am funded. Hahahahahahahaah
Why do you laugh at
me?
Why not? I mean why in
the fuck would you wish to come down here and give me your confession when some
goddamn man in a dress can do it for you and give indulgences and not even know
your fucking name?
All of a sudden this redness overcame his face. The anger
was something I never witnessed before. Sweat appeared on his scalp and forehead.
And then, of a sudden, he relented.
I do not know how else to describe it. He relented. Not a
real psych 101 reaction. But there it was anyway.
And he looked up after the redness abated and he said:
You're all right.
I said: Sure, I'm all
right. I mean I get to sit in basements and speak to total excrement thirty
hours a week.
And he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Frank, I gotta cousin. His name is Tolio. His name is Tolio because his mother was a fucking black in the Bronx and they could not spell Talia. Fuckin niggers. That is what he is. He is a goddamn nigger.
Look I wont stand for
this racist drivel, get the fuck out of here.
Wait a minute. Wait
one goddamn minute. I got an idea. Listen. No more racist stuff as you call it.
You never lived in the fuckin Bronx. Forget
it. I apologize.
No more. I cannot
stand it.
Okay. Okay. But I have
this idea.
Tolio is an idiot. Do
you know he killed his own brother with a fuckin shovel? When he was ten years
old he killed him; for taking his running shoes for chrissakes. When he was ten
years old.
What has this got to
do with anything?
Well....Uncle Antonio
wants him dead. Not for real moral reasons. It's just....it's just he screwed him
on a drug deal. It was like the tenth time and he wants me to do it.
So...............
I think that you could
talk him into it.
Me. What in the fuck
are you talking about.
Oh, I know all about
you. You talked one of my runners to kill himself. Sammy. I know all about it. He told me.
Well fuck you, go to
the authorities. You do not know shit. I ....
No, no no. I wished
him dead a long time ago.
What are you getting
at?
Antonio will give me
ten grand when Tolio is dead.
Oh great. Now I
counsel contract killers.
Oh, you do not just
counsel them friend. You can share in the proceeds.
So that is how it all
started.
Don't you all see. All
of humanity is on the precipice.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE, THAT IS THE QUESTION FOR ALL TIMES.
Most of us are cowards. We eschew, ignore such messages.
But here was a profession. I mean I just help nature take
its inevitable course. I mean do you know why people do not live a thousand
years like Methuselah anymore? I mean Adam lived almost as long.
Why did 120 years become the perfect lifespan for Egypt
and the Hebrews?
The problem here is not that there is no god. The problem
lies in the fact that there is.
Well here I am; to solve that problem. Because man decided
he no longer wishes to live that long. Hell most of us do not even wish to make
it to half that age.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_ncQgjIlFM&feature=related
So I took the promise of five grand--with a grand up front
cause I aint no idiot--and went to visit Tolio.
WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?
Tolio, Tolio, I am here for you.
He receded into his alcove on the street holding a
forty-five at my abdomen.
No, no, no. I am not here to collect anything Tolio. I know
what happened to you. Your family is very upset. I am just here to show you a
way out.
But I have no money.
I do not want your money Tolio. I really don't.
Why should I trust
you?
Well Tolio. I do not
want your money. I have no money except this fifty dollar bill to get me home.
You can steal that if you wish. It's deductible really. I just wish to discuss
some things with you is all.
Mario sent you. I know
this. Mario that son of a bitchin racist bastard. I ...
Tolio, Tolio....Mario
did not send me. Daddy sent me.
With that Tolio dropped his gun and began weeping. Let us
get some coffee and a scone. Whatdayasay?
Tolio grabbed me and hugged me and kept weeping.
I mean, what the fuck is wrong with people anyway?
We stopped at Telli's. A little café off the beaten path. It
was really adapted because it lies just outside the alcohol line set up by the
powers that be many years before.
We talked about daddy and we spoke about the neighborhood
where Tolio grew up. We spoke about the Black and Italian gangs.
Then I pulled out a flask and we had some drinks to go with
the scones.
Later we retired to Sam's place and had some beer and some
whiskey.
A wonderful evening really.
We ended up in a cousin's apartment so Tolio would be free
from his family.
We talked about all of Tolio's sins. We spoke of fratricide.
We spoke of homicide. We spoke of unspoken things.
Finally I said:
Tolio. Give me a good
confession. A last confession. And I shall give you absolution.
And he did.
And I handed him the fingerprint free gun with the golden
bullet.
And he shot himself right then and there.
Right in front of me.
With kind of a smile on his face.
He was free. Tolio was free at last.
And I knew I had a real profession after all.
I left the clean gun and took his 45.
I had this feeling of freedom that I had never experienced before.