June 30, 2009
Any man who lets his woman do his thinking for him is an idiot. Think about it. If you were gay, and you were locked into a relationship with another guy, and the guy insisted on running your whole life, including your business affairs, would you let him?No way, because the implicit thinking is that his interests might be totally different from yours and he might try to manipulate you to suit his own purposes.But with women it’s different. How many guys end up letting themselves be conditioned to obey like trained seals in the belief that she knows best, and meantime she’s following a logical trajectory of satisfying her own desires.I’m not advocating revolution. I’m just writing this because nobody else seems to have given any thought to it. In today’s paper Bernard Madoff got sentenced to 150 years in a maximum security prison while his wife went free with a little nest egg of several million bucks, which she maintains is her “own money”.Her own money! From where? They started out life together in Queens, New York, broke. She never had a job of her own. It’s her “own money” because she insisted that he squirrel it away for her out of the millions and billions that he chiseled and stole from his suckers, er, clients, at her own insistence!Look at Madoff. He’s an idiot, a patsy. He looks like a clown face on a kid’s inflatable punching bag. This moron looks like he never had an original thought in his life. Now look at his wife, Ruth. She is pure brass. When you put the two pictures together, it’s totally obvious who was running the show.If Bernard Madoff was not receiving his running orders from his wife, I will eat my hat. Don’t make me laugh! Now he is taking the fall and she is expressing shame at having been associated for the last fifty years with such a nefarious smooth operator. Oh please!Everywhere you look in New York, it’s the same story: the women are running the men, who are conditioned from birth to take orders, first from their mothers and then from women who are trained by their mothers to perpetuate the stupid cycle.I had occasion to sit in on one of these training sessions one morning when I was having breakfast at a Bagel Nosh restaurant on Second Avenue many years ago. At the next table, some old idiot broad was breaking her daughter into The Secret Sorority of Ball-Busting Psycho Females. “All men are children”, she told her daughter. “You find out what they want, you give it to them, and then, when they misbehave, you take it away”.It sounded like a freakin dog trainer to me. Not that I hadn’t already figured it out long before, but I was gratified to find out that I wasn’t a paranoid psychotic. Anyway, I have always been immune to any kind of Voice of Authority, which is why nobody can freakin stand me. I act in my own interest. If I fall on my face, it’s with the knowledge that I only have myself to blame.Recently I went to a conditioning class at the New York Sports Club. It’s me and forty women because, since I got my arm broken on a city bus, for which I recently won a judgment against the bus company, I’m only fit to work out with freakin women. When the place gets sweated up it smells like a pot of boiled shrimp.Anyway, I rushed in and got the most desirable place in the studio, a corner where two walls of mirrors converge, giving the illusion that there are four of me. That way, at least, I have the illusion that there are other men in the room besides me ha-ha.I dropped my towel and sunglasses there, to mark my place, and went off to get my dumbbells, but when I returned, my stuff had been pushed off to the side and some wiseguy woman had displaced me.“Hey, that’s my place”, I screamed.“No it’s not”, she screamed back. “I was here first!”“Like hell,” I screamed. I pointed to my sunglasses and towel, which she had pushed over to the mirror. “That’s my stuff!”So this idiot female reverted to her mother’s training. “Be a gentleman!” she commanded. This was pure Pavlovian dog training. “Sit! Stay! Heel!” Most men would skulk away and find a place at the back of the class. And why? Because some dingbat instructed them to. Unfortunately for her, I am no dumb dog. “Oh no”, I said. “No gentleman. Because you’re no lady. We’ll let the trainer decide”.She walked away, obviously to cop a plea to the trainer. But I know the guy, and he knows me. She came back, smoldering, and moved her stuff out of the way for me.Sometimes I feel as though I am the last man in New York City, like the last guy in “The Invasion of the Body Snatchers” who finds out at the end that he’s surrounded by pod people. I get the feeling that the reason the economy and society have collapsed is that men, who essentially built everything, have abdicated in favor of the women.The modern concept of womanhood can be traced back to medieval France, where the artists and minstrels conceived a romanticized version of woman, in the same vein as unicorns and chivalrous knights who slept under the trees in their armor. It was pure Hollywood, but since art and culture leave an indelible impact on real life, this construct gained currency. Later on, under the reign of Louis XIV, women began to be noted for their intellectual abilities, as the wives of rich men began the practice of holding salons, inviting artists and discussing subjects of contemporary culture.Prior to these French developments, however, women were essentially regarded as beasts of burden and baby machines. And it’s interesting to note that even in France, which is fundamentally the wellspring of female equality, women did not achieve suffrage until 1945.In this country, well, somehow the notion took that the women were more refined and civilized than the men. Anybody who has watched “Real Housewives of New Jersey” knows what a load of old bullocks that is. And you don’t need a television either. Just go out on the street and engage one of these ladies in a few minutes of conversation, and you get an idea how far society has regressed backwards since the days of the Sun King.Women’s suffrage in the U.S. was based on the reactionary strategy of counteracting the effects of granting the vote to male immigrants, which they insisted would subsume the rights of “real” Americans. Sound familiar? Later on, the comedy movies of W.C. Fields invariably showed him being hounded and hectored to death by some prim, politically correct old broad with an ax to grind – with his head as the grindstone. It’s no wonder women outlive men by a decade and end up with all the money. That’s how they have got it figured.As I stated at the beginning of this piece, I am not out to create social upheaval. Plenty of women have got a legitimate beef against men, who are knuckleheads and pineapples. As Chairman Mao so succinctly pointed out, women hold up half the sky. But going forward, if we are to make sense of the ungodly mess we have created, being descended as we are from the apes in the trees and the primal beasts slithering under rocks in the mud, the human race should reflect on the neural impulses that have brought us to our present dead end.
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Posted on 6/30/2009
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June 28, 2009
ELVIS – Son!MJ – Dad!ELVIS – I know it didn’t work out between you and my daughter, Lisa Marie, but she was always headstrong like her mother. Never mind, you’ll always be family to me. Ma, look who’s here! It’s Michael Jackson.MA PRESLEY – Son! Did you have a good trip?MJ – It was like nothing at all.MA PRESLEY – Well, you boys just talk while I make lunch. We’ll all get acquainted later.ELVIS – You must be relieved to get out of life.MJ – The pressure just got to be too much. Everybody pulling you in a different direction. I could’ve made a comeback. I was set to do fifty sold-out concerts in London. But I’ll tell you, Elvis, I was pushing fifty, which is too old to play Peter Pan.ELVIS – You did right to check out when you did. Now you’ll sell more albums than ever. There’s such a thing as overstaying your welcome. Look at Madonna!MJ – But I didn’t mean to die. I just told the doctor, give me something to relax me. Unfortunately, he relaxed me too much.ELVIS – Anyway, that’s all in the past. Will you be staying with us until you get your own place?MJ – If you have room for me.ELVIS – Oh, we have room! I sort of designed this place myself. It’s part Memphis, part Hollywood and part Vegas. Over on the back forty I even put in a Hawaiian surfing beach.MJ – Real homey.ELVIS - Yeah, this is America just like I pictured it. No foreign cars or foreign people.MJ – I know. Like, when I was a child my daddy worked in a steel mill. Today they’re all closed. The world today is all topsy-turvy. You can’t keep up. With all the iPods and file sharing, it’s getting harder and harder to come up with a sound to fill it up.ELVIS – You’ll like it here. We got a gated community to keep the riff-raff out. Only artists.MJ – Yeah, I noticed. It’s like a really good part of Encino.ELVIS – Johnny Carson lives down the road a piece. And just over yonder the President’s got a spread.MJ – Obama?ELVIS – No, dummy, Ronald Reagan! He was the governor when I was alive. He only got to be president after I died. But he’s a prince of a man. I tried to get Nixon in here, but the board wouldn’t approve it. Too many Democrats.MJ – What did God say?ELVIS – God don’t involve himself in real estate matters. Have you given any thought about how you’ll spend eternity in heaven?MJ – I thought I’d go back into the studio and work on developing some new material. Then I’ll inhabit the soul of a young artist and communicate my songs to him in his dreams while he’s sleeping.ELVIS – Well, I hope you have better luck with that than I did. The market don’t care about rock n’ roll anymore. Everything today is one-note techno music these days. It’s like people are in a trance. Sometimes I go down to earth and fly around, just to get a feel for things, and it’s like being on Mars or a different planet. And I haven’t even been dead that long. Styles are changing too fast and going down. Music is probably the worst field for a dead person to make an impact. If you think we have it bad, you should go visit the classical composers like Beethoven or Wagner. They have totally given up trying to write new material. All they do is eat long lunches and go sailing in their boats.MA PRESLEY – Boys, I made you a nice pitcher of lemonade and some lunch. Michael, I hope you like peanut butter and banana sandwiches.MJ – It’s my favorite. Here, look. I’ve been developing some new dance steps. This is my new moonwalk.ELVIS – Pretty cool. Now you can really walk to the moon. Maybe later I’ll call James Brown and invite him over. Then we can all dance up a storm.MJ – It would be great to see James again. We had some great times together when we were alive.ELVIS – I used to catch your shows in Vegas when you were still with the Jackson 5. You were probably too young to remember.MJ - Sure I remember! Are you kidding, Elvis coming to my show? It was bigger than performing for the Queen of England!ELVIS – Anyway, now we have all of eternity to reminisce about the old times. In the meantime, let me call up some girls and we’ll have a party to welcome you to heaven. Don’t feel bad about dying. You certainly left your mark on the world.BROKEBUTT MOUNTAIN: Gay Cowboys In Love
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Posted on 6/28/2009
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June 27, 2009
With the new economic reality, you can forget about $500,000 summer rentals in the Hamptons. Fortunately for New Yorkers, a $2.00 subway ride will take you to Coney Island beach for a refreshing dip in the ocean, with the used condoms and Tampex tubes floating in the water with you.It’s better than remaining in the sweltering city, though one reader recently compared it to taking a shit in your bathtub and then jumping in.After a refreshing day of getting your feet all cut up by glass fragments and swimming in sewage, you can enjoy a languorous postprandial aperitif at Cha Cha’s Bar on the Coney Island boardwalk. Quite aside from the dramatic sunsets, which make the New Jersey oil refineries sparkle like gleaming jewels on the horizon, the panorama presents the romantic scenario of New York Dept.of Environmental Protection barges as they sail to-and-fro, transporting solid waste between Jamaica Bay and the East River, not to mention the enchanting fish fragrance emanating from the butts of the female bathers.The companionship you’ll meet at Cha Cha’s is equally scintillating. As I was sitting at the bar, the girl next to me leaned over and discreetly whispered, “Don’t look now, but the guy next to me is playing with himself”.“So what,” I said. “That has nothing to do with you”.She responded demurely, “Yeah, but he’s using my hand to do it!”Cha Cha’s is conveniently located between the Shoot The Freak attraction, where an insulting sideshow barker insolently invites passers-by to take potshots at a nut-job human target with a paintball gun as he scampers through a garbage-strewn lot, and a Nathan’s hot dog stand selling exorbitantly priced weenies to idiot retards and stinking up Cha Cha’s with the aroma of fried grease.OK, it ain’t the Promenade des anglais on the French Riviera. Nevertheless, it has its advantages. The women there, who resemble the female gorillas in the Kongo exhibit at the Bronx Zoo, although with less body hair, are so desperate for money that if you poke a hole in a $20 bill and push your dick through it, they will blow you just to get closer to the money. Watch out, though, these broads have a lot of studs and rings embedded in their lips and tongues, and this, combined with protruding wires resulting from cheap dental work, can result in you organ being shredded like a meat grinder.In addition to just getting blown, you can get laid as well. Once you do the deal, you just have to walk across the boardwalk to the beach. But as I previously pointed out, the sand is full of broken glass from drunken Russians from Brighton Beach who, after getting drunk on cheap Georgi vodka, celebrate by breaking the bottles like gleeful Cossacks who had just massacred a village full of Jews. That’s why it’s best to first prepare by setting aside a cardboard vegetable box, which are available by hunting around the alley behind the vegetable stalls on Brighton Beach Avenue, and stashing it under the boardwalk near Cha Cha’s for use as a mattress. Failing that, it’s preferable to be on top when you perform the sex act in the sand. That way, it’s your partner who ends up going to Coney Island Hospital for getting cut up. Another thing to be vigilant for is bedbugs in the sand which are brought there by underprivileged Brooklynites and lay in wait, hoping for a better home.For those guys who prefer masculine companionship, no problem! Cha Cha’s has got a willing contingent of gay men, who actually cost a lot less. In fact, depending how ugly the guy is, he might even pay you!Brooklyn being a multicultural community, it’s helpful to know a few words of Spanish to aid you in your conquest. One phrase that always comes in handy is that faithful old standby “Bicho en el culo”. This translates into “Dick in the ass”, and is always helpful in any transaction.One last tip concerns Cha Cha’s bathroom, which makes the overflowing Porto-Sans at KeySpan Baseball Stadium shine like Schmuckingham Palace by comparison. You can forget all about toilet paper, just grab a fistful of cocktail napkins. The bathroom is for all sexes and the lock on the door is broken. Last time I took a leak there, a woman barged in and demanded if I was quite through. Since my cell phone was ringing, I asked her if she would hold my pecker, which was still pissing, while I answered the phone. She obliged, but after she had shook it dry, she asked me for a holding fee. Since the plumbing has a tendency to get stopped up, the toilet is prone to flooding, so, in order to avoid ending up floating in a pool of urine, it is advisable to wear platform shoes or, failing that, to wear rubber hip boots, which are available for a rental fee from the commercial fishing boats moored nearby in Sheepshead Bay.Look, this is nasty. But if you are squeamish about any of the aforementioned details, the best thing would be for you to get the fuck out of New York City.
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Posted on 6/27/2009
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June 21, 2009
IRAN FIGHTS BACK!!!!!!What is happening in Iran, with mass street demonstrations and civil unrest over the stealing of the election that should have gone to Moussavi, is an indication of the more comprehensive cultural values that the Persian people enjoy as a result of their ancient civilization and culture.Sometimes elections are stolen. If the people of a country determine that their votes are not being fairly represented, they have the inalienable right to overturn the result by any means available at hand.Many peoples have a propensity to go into the streets if they feel they are being cheated or manipulated. The other country that comes to mind is France, although Japan and Korea also have histories of extra- parliamentary protest.To our great shame, the American people have a tendency to accept whatever results are inflicted upon us, no matter how much the process stinks. The 2000 presidential election is the case in point. The election was stolen by Bush, even though the popular vote was manifestly in favor of Gore and the Democrats. The results in Florida, the pivotal state in that election, were manipulated and perverted by the state’s Republican governor and secretary of state, even though the whole nation knew perfectly well that voter exclusion and ballot manipulation were scandalously obvious. The decision went to the U.S. Supreme Court, whose Republican majority later joked about throwing the election to Bush.Elections count. The result of the Bush coup d’état was to reverberate for the eight following years. We ended up with a reactionary dictatorship that mishandled 9/11, dragged us into a vindictive foreign war of choice against Iraq, threw the country’s banking system into chaos, completely flubbed the relief effort following Hurricane Katrina, as well as many other grave consequences too numerous to be recounted here.The American people, by not flooding into the streets in 2000 to protest the stealing of the election and the installation of a puppet administration, that of the idiot Bush, are partly responsible for our own decline. Part of the blame goes to Al Gore, who, instead of spearheading protests in Washington and provoking Americans to demonstrate in all other cities and towns, grew a beard and accepted a lecturer’s post at Columbia University, to his everlasting shame.Things turned out fine for Gore. He ended up receiving the Nobel Prize and an Academy Award. As for the rest of us, not so good. We don’t have jobs or medical insurance. The World Trade Center is dust, with thousands of casualties. We are saddled with two foreign wars. Our international reputation is a shambles. Our currency is debased, its value debated on a daily basis. We are diminished as a nation.Maybe that is why President Obama is hesitant to add the weight of his opinion to the disruptions taking over the disputed Iranian election. It might draw uncomplimentary comparison to our own impotent reaction under the same circumstances, where we just went to work the next day and accepted the humiliation of being played for suckers.
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Posted on 6/21/2009
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June 08, 2009
People have more freedom to express themselves than they have ever had before. They have got every kind of toy imaginable, and the end result is that they end up using all their junk to conform like a bunch of cretinous dolts.That’s their choice. What do I care? Give me a harmonica and a pencil and paper and I’m happy, though nobody else even can stand me at all boo-hoo!But in People’s Republic of China you don’t have the right to decide to be an idiotic conformist twit. The government gets to decide that for you. In a public relations blunder that makes even Dick Cheney look like a freakin genius by comparison, the Chinese government, on exactly the twentieth anniversary of the Tienanmen massacre, has issued a directive that mandates that all personal computers sold in that country must be fitted with software that can be controlled by the central authorities to block any internet content that it deems to be “harmful”.Not only that. This software, which is euphemistically labeled “Green Dam – Youth Escort”, can monitor all computer use and transmit anything useful back to Control Central. Basically, this marks the end of freedom of expression in China, if it ever existed, which it never has. Going back to the ancient royal dynasties, it used to be common practice to bury writers alive if they wrote anything “harmful”.Naturally, computers manufacturers Hewlett Packard and Dell Computer, who respectively enjoy China market shares of 13.7% and 8.1%, have raised no objections. It’s this process of sucking outside interests into complicity with police state tactics if they want to continue to do business in the Chinese market that makes the arrangement all the more insidious. People want to make money, and rightfully so, but if you end up helping the authorities turn the population into a mindless herd of subservient barnyard creatures reminiscent of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm”, what is the price of your soul?Forget about industrial espionage. In today’s China, where there is no distinction between the bureaucracy and business interests, your competitors have only to monitor your emails to know everything you’re up to. I daresay, it doesn’t exactly require a Great Leap Forward to figure out that there is not one foreign company doing business in China that is not being spied upon by its own Chinese employees, who were implanted there for the express purpose of learning its industrial processes.Chinese business practices do not travel well. Taiwan recently refused permission for an attempt by Chinese mobile operator China Mobile to get its hooks into FarEasTone. The Australian government and stockholders rebelled against an agreement that would have allowed Chinalco to double its stake in Rio Tinto, even though Rio Tinto is desperate for money. Who can blame these countries? Nobody wants to do business with a country that combines police state repression with mafia business ethics.I doubt that China will ever grant me a visa to travel there. I guess I can forget my ambition to swim in the world’s biggest polluted mess!
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Posted on 6/8/2009
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June 06, 2009
Guantanamo detainee undergoes interrogation NOW IT CAN BE REVEALED!
Our investigative reporter has returned from a tour of the detention facility at Guantanamo with secret photos taken with a hidden camera concealed in his pants. To see the shocking conditions, click on this link: http://www.200motels.net/gitmo.html
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Posted on 6/6/2009
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June 04, 2009
Efforts by the Chinese government to suppress press and internet discussions of the twentieth anniversary of the Tienanmen massacre only substantiate my argument that China can never aspire to establishing a full-blown capital market in Shanghai by 2020, which is its stated intention.China still detains up to 30 democracy protestors who were given the life sentences or death sentences that were commuted to life imprisonment for their activities of 20 years ago. This in addition to the thousands whose lives were forever ruined by the government for the crime of holding a peaceful demonstration.Basically, I’m no moralist, but who would want to invest in a country where the population has no rights, where there are no effective laws or courts, where disputes are settled on the basis of personal connections to politically powerful figures, where intellectuals, journalists and artists have no freedom of expression that is not officially sanctioned, where financial reporting that can be considered detrimental to financial interests is outlawed under penalty of imprisonment.Let’s say your company decides to manufacture photovoltaic cells in China and some politically connected guy decides to go into competition against you, stealing your processes; interfering with your suppliers; not allowing you to ship; arranging to have your books audited. What are your going to do, sue him? You can’t even complain to the press, for fear of being charged with economic sabotage. Even if some publication listened to your complaints, they would never publish them! ">This is an old story. Handbag manufacturers who contracted with Chinese contractors found out that the contractors were producing an equivalent amount of pieces, which went out the back door and into the gray goods market. They tried suing them in court and ended up getting judgments for a few hundred measly renminbi. Ultimately, the only way to work in China is by establishing personal contacts, which, in plain English, means paying more out in bribes than your competitors.I am not even going to address the morality of this mess, because the Republicans have cornered the market in terms of moralistic hypocrisy and I don’t want to contaminate myself by associating with those pricks. But strictly from a standpoint of practicality, the only thing that keeps American corporations in China is the fantastic tax breaks that allow companies to warehouse their profits in offshore banking havens until Congress periodically passes tax amnesties that allow them to repatriate the money tax-free on the basis of promises to invest it, which never happens. The money goes into a black hole of structured finance deals that no auditor can ever hope to decipher.If Obama keeps his promise to tax these overseas profits at the same rate as domestic income, American producers will make the determination that it’s more practical to set up business in places like Michigan, which has unlimited surplus capacity, a motivated workforce, enforceable laws and functioning courts and governmental transparency.
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Posted on 6/4/2009
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June 01, 2009
On May 17 I received a telephone call from Kim Shamsky of Vinmar Staffing, which has my resumé on file, offering me a job shoveling shit at the Bronx Zoo. I accepted with alacrity and offered to bring my own shovel.In addition to offering me the job, Kim told me of her intention to sue me in civil court, screaming that she would “crush” me, “bankrupt” me and have me thrown in prison for writing jokes about her long-running lawsuit accusing her ex, former Mets slugger Art Shamsky, of infecting her with a plethora of sexually related diseases as a result of his purported liaisons with women, men, canines, discarded inflatable sex dolls and an abandoned, bedbug-infested mattress that he found while rummaging through a dumpster in the alley behind the Fulton Fish Market.Naturally, I was elated at the prospect of being sued for slander by New York’s version of the Octomom. She has availed herself of every imaginable opportunity to publicly humiliate her ex-husband who, after suffering twelve years of marriage to a woman whom he claims spit on him, excoriated him for being old, insulted him unmercifully and threw hysterical screaming fits on innumerable occasions, decided to walk out on her and take a good portion of her money with him.A lawsuit like that is a win-win situation for any defendant who would know how to defend himself, of which Art Shamsky, being a retired baseball player, was basically not capable. He had no choice but to hunker down in the face of a vicious barrage of insults and suffer in silence, even as Kim gave multiple newspaper interviews accusing him of being a notorious degenerate pervert, ambushing him with a video crew in tow to scream at him after he emerged from a charity event, and filing an endless stream of court documents purporting to expose his vile sexual proclivities. She even set up a web site, www.artshamskysucks.com, to do to him the same thing she accused me of doing to her.As I read this vile swill on an ongoing basis, I wondered, “How come there’s never a comedian around when you need one?” Obviously, all the good comedy writers had left for the coast. That more or less had left all the heavy lifting to me. To make matters worse, I actually had been acquainted with this Kim Shamsky a few years previously when I had accepted an assignment from her to work at a low-level bureaucratic function at the law firm of Paul Weiss, which was one of the most gruesome experiences of my life. My contact with Vinmar Staffing at the time was limited to filling out a weekly time sheet and receiving a meager pittance of remuneration for my services. I knew Shamsky was a little bit peculiar, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only after I had ceased to be employed by Vinmar and she had hit the papers, big-time, with an unending stream of vile purification against her ex, that I realized what a treasure trove of comedy material she offered.I have unfortunately been cursed with some of the worst employers in New York, which is saying a mouthful. Previous to Shamsky, I was engaged by Helmer Toro as industrial relations manager at H&H Bagels, where I helped him negotiate a collective bargaining agreement with Local 2 of the Bakery Workers Union, managed his factory in Hell’s Kitchen and his two retail stores, ordered his factory supplies and performed quality control functions. Toro thanked me for my services with an unending campaign of insults and personal abuse, threw up obstacles to make my job even harder when it suited him, and forged my signature on documents of incorporation, leaving me exposed for a $20,000 debt to the New York State Department of Taxation, which obliged me to go to the newspapers to get this monkey off my back, resulting in a charming little poem I wrote about him which was excerpted on Page Six of The Post, reading, in part:“He’ll go down in history like the Three Stooges
On the Mount Rushmore of monumental scrooges”Toro also threatened to sue me, or worse (he keeps two loaded revolvers in the safe of his 80th Street store. Both his ex-business partner and one of his brothers mysteriously died). Anyway, Toro has got bigger problems than me to worry about: after of years of robbing Peter to pay Paul and shifting his assets back and forth like a three card monty game between his dummy corporations, his stores and his factory were seized last week by the NYDOT, and standing right behind them is the IRS, who also holds liens on his properties, including his residence in the Colorado condominium on West 70th Street.According to Toro’s brother, Juan C. (“Johnny”) Toro, whom he employs as a refrigeration and truck mechanic, Toro started out as a pool-hustling teenage sharpie in the Hunt’s Point section of the Bronx, where he would clean out the marks and then run to his Cadillac, which Johnny would keep idling, to make his escape. After serving in Vietnam, which Toro himself described to me as the happiest memory of his life, he got a job rolling bagels by hand and then opened the store at 80th Street and Broadway. Helmer expressed the ambition to his brother to marry a Jewish woman, of whom there was no shortage among his client base, because, in Johnny’s words “they had the money”.He succeeded in that ambition, marrying a naïve, trusting female dentist whose family bankrolled his factory on W. 46th Street, and Toro expanded into the delivery route and export businesses. Unfortunately, the bakery business being an unbelievably cutthroat industry, Toro immediately found himself behind the eight ball. First, the union, after a bitter, tooth-and-claw multi-year battle, succeeded in organizing his workforce, putting Toro at a permanent disadvantage against his non-unionized competition. Then, he was undercapitalized, being obliged to equip his plant with obsolete, antiquated machinery, which let to unending battles with regulators such as the Fire Department and OSHA. Finally, Toro’s own pool hustler proclivities induced him to take chances with the fiscal authorities.In order to keep operating, Toro continually tapped his wife’s family and leveraged himself and his operations to the hilt. While I was working for him, his strategy had settled on a plan to sell the 46th Street property and move his operation to New Jersey, where he felt he would be able to get out from under the thumb of the union. My collaboration in the latest round of collective bargaining negations, where I had written all the documentation in English and Spanish, negotiated for him at the bargaining table and actively lobbied the employees to pressure the union executive to sign the loaded agreement I had written, the provisions of which I am still prohibited from disclosing because of a confidentiality agreement that may still be applicable despite the company’s imminent demise, were groundbreaking for the state of New York but still did not go far enough to put him in a competitive position vis-à-vis his better financed non-union competition like Bagel Best, which works out of a modern, fortress-like facility in the Bronx.The enormous hygiene and regulatory problems concerning the dilapidated manufacturing facility in Hell’s Kitchen were putting unbelievable pressure on me and Toro, who was himself at the breaking point because of his tax and debt problems, would come down to the factory early in the morning and scream at me for the unbelievable mess left behind by the night shift, even though he knew perfectly well that I had just arrived myself. But taking his problems out on me was his system for burning off steam. Finally, I just walked out.Not that I would have stayed much longer anyway. A few weeks later a letter arrived at my home naming me as an officer in First Toro or Sixth Toro, I forget which, Family Partnership LLP, and dunning me for a twenty thousand dollar share of Toro’s tax assessment. That set off a whole new round of fighting.It was under those conditions that I went to work for Kim Shamsky’s agency, which is located in a shabby little three-person office on East 34th Street. I considered her just to be a typical garden-variety nuisance. It was only after she broke into the papers with her insane attacks on Art Shamsky that I came to a full appreciation of what a boiling cauldron of venom and malice was erupting within that seemingly banal and inconsequential individual.Let her sue me if she wants to! She is not a private citizen who is the target of slander and vicious innuendo but, rather, a person who elbowed herself into the public forum on the lowest possible level , initiating a monstrous campaign designed to humiliate another public figure, her ex-husband, by exposing him to what are unsubstantiated and undoubtedly fictional accusations concerning the intentional contamination by him of her reproductive health, which she described in the most graphic terms before the mass audience. By going public in such graphic and vociferous terms, she exposed herself as a legitimate object for satirical treatment.Shamsky was in the papers again just last week, declaring herself to be a “happy camper” about the out-of-court settlement of her lawsuit against Art Shamsky. After years and years of her unmercifully hounding this guy and calling him every dirty name in the book, the whole case was litigated out of existence. This “happy camper” remark was her feeble attempt to put the best face on being forced to concede defeat. According to the terms of the settlement as described by The Post she received nothing, nothing! Kim Shamsky and Art Shamsky were obliged to undergo physical examinations, which revealed nothing, and Art Shamsky’s attorney had a clause inserted that prohibits Kim from any more public harassment of him.In the meantime, I intend to continue writing my blog as usual. This blog site contains over 500 stories, including many hundreds about baseball and sports. Out of those, there are maybe four references to Kim Shamsky, all concerning her public campaign against baseball star Art Shamsky. If she and her attorney find that any of that material is actionable, then I shall defend myself vigorously in court and in the court of public opinion. Helmer Toro also underestimated my ability to defend my own interests. Helmer may be a very flawed individual, but compared to Kim Shamsky, he is a freakin genius!Helmer has his own problems. Last week his operation was seized, then reopened, then seized again, this time with the Tax Department declaring its intention to put the whole mess up for auction. I bear him no malice. He got too big. If he had been content to just operate his 80th Street store, which was profitable and famous, instead of striving to be a big-shot capitalist, he would have had a happy life with his successful, loyal wife and all his lovely children.As for Kim Shamsky, forget her! I may be an impecunious writer suffering through tough times, but I am holding up rather better than the Helmer Toros of the world, and I am sure not a Shoot The Freak target bozo attraction in the Coney Island sideshow of Kim Shamsky’s mind. Her last words to me were, "I want you to go to hell and die!" Naturally it all boils down to what she wants. When all the temper tantrums and destructive behavior are analyzed and peeled away, it reveals a woman possessing an emotional age of about two years old, like a spoiled infant petulantly stamping her feet, demanding an ice cream.
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Posted on 6/1/2009
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