Unforgettable thats what you are.

Back in the 1880's there was a Paiute Indian called Wokova. He taught all the Indians that if they danced something called the ghost dance that all the white people would vanish and the buffalo and game would return and be abundant once more. The ghost dance religion was a variation on Christianity but the white officials at the reservation did not understand it as much. The Ghost dance spread like wildfire among the tribes of the west. He brought them hope as at that point they had lost almost everything they had. Their way of life, their land, everything. And as they began dancing the white officials slowly began sounding the alarm and magnifying the situation until what happened was the wounded knee massacre. But it really was a culimination of American Indian policy from the start. Anyhow sometimes I feel that way. Like just checking out of everything. I have an ancestor my Grandfathers's dad who walked out of the New york stock exchange and started a new life on a farm in New Jersey. SOmetimes thats what I feel like doing.

Indians are dancing in the snow and are wild and crazy

Dave awoke slowly as the rays of the early afternoon sun came flooding in slowly. He awoke not because of that but mainly because his body felt it was time to rise. He glanced over at the digital clock on his nightstand 2pm. Dave took this into account. Time seemed to lose all of its significance when one was unemployed. Nowhere to go, no obligations, no money. They had canned him almost three weeks ago but he had been staying afloat alright. Dave had ascertained exactly why they had fired him. It could have been his frequent tardiness, or showing up high, or drunk, or selling drugs out the back, or a combination of all these factors. All they had told him was they felt it was best that he not work for them anymore. Or something to that effect. He had been extremely high when they had told him so most of the words had been something of a blur. Dave arose from his bed and slowly made his way into the living room. It was a small one bedroom that had all the basic needs one could ask for. There were bottles of beer, pizza boxes, chinese food cartons and assorted refuse scattered about the small living room and Dave pondered to himself how he let himself live this way. In some ways it was easy, don't clean just let everything go. But in some ways it was hard because he knew it would make life harder for him in the long run. Dave meandered toward the fridge extracting a can of beer. He pulled the tab and took a drink. He had found out another good way to make money, buying 30 racks of beer and selling them to underage kids at a markup. He had managed to do alright since his termination, getting unemployment and increaseing his weed selling operations. It wasn't alot of money but it was enough to get by, for now. He took another swig of the beer pondering the days operations.

Out of the blue and into the black

1975

'My friends we got some real problems here.' John O'neil said as he took a sip of scotch. 'Someone is fuckin snitching and it ain't on our end.' Pasquale pondered these words as they sat in the backroom of Sal's pizzeria. It was Pasquale, John, and Vito the boss. Pasquale had risen to the rank of underboss by then but it only seemd to bring more problems. 'Major indictment they already arrested a few low level guys from the Cieceros and pretty it'll be alot more.' John had eight brothers and sisters and all of them had entrenched themselves in one positions or another in city politics. One was a detective, the other a district attorney, one was even an aide to the mayor. It was because of this that John had managed to blend so well into the Italian's inner circle. Normally they didn't trust non-Italains that well but John was a big shot with the teamsters and allowed them to profit enormously as well as himself in the process. 'So what do you suggest.' Vito said calmly from the back. Vito didn't speak much but when he did he commanded authority. 'I'd say just do some housekeeping, find out you seems weak and who seems strong. I know they got a few witnesses but they haven't released the names yet.' Vito nodded his ascent slowly. Vito and some of the other bosses had started to doubt John recently mainly because of his boozing. It had always been an issue but recently it had spiriled out of control. Oh well, Pasquale thought, we will see what happens.

Smokin cigarettes and watching captain Kangeroo

March 1965

'Salud Louie' Pasquale said raising his glass to commemorate the moment. They all drank in unison as he drank as if all sharing in the same sorrow. Louie had gotten pinched in an extortion scheme, but he had done the right thing he didn't rat he didn't give them shit and so he was going away for a few. 'You did the right thing Louie.' Pasquale said as the toast was over. All of Louie's friends and family were there including all of Pasquales crew. Louie sat in the corner after it was all over, aloof withdrawn. Pasquale contemplated going over to him but than thought better of it. Louie was in one of his moods. He was just like that sometimes, woulden't talk much seemed to shy away. There was something off about Louie that Pasquale had noticed from the start. Something about him that just didn't seem to fit in. He would be there at the cardgames and he wouldent say a word just sitting there was an impassive face. Admist all the others bawdy talk and boasting Louie would just sit there and stare. Some of the others in his crew called him 'the rock' because of his impassive face. Still Pasquale understood somehow. There eyes would meet sometimes and they would share a quick moment of understanding. Louie was not cut out for the life. He was born in the wrong time, the wrong age. Pasquale walked through the smoke filled bar to where Louie sat at the end of the bar. 'You alright louie?' He asked. 'Yeah. Just depressed worried about how Dianne and the kids are going to do.' Louie slouched taking a large gulp from the drink in front of him. 'Don't worry Louie all take care of it.' Pasquale said. Take care of it he he had already. Louie's wife had come to him a few months ago wondering what to do about him. She had told him about Louie's depression and how he had told her about contemplating suicide. Pasquale had listened to her concerns but he had also taken advantage of her in her time of weakness. He had slept with a member of his crew's wife. It was an offence which was punishable by death in their life. Pasquale had been destroyed by guilt because of it. It was something he knew he could never live down. 'I am a bad man.' It was the first thing he had told his wife when they got married. She had taken it as a joke but he had been in earnest. Pasquale had told her that so she would know what she was getting into, but now he pondered those words. 'Another round for Louie!' He said to the bartender raising his glass.

I don't give a fuck about jail. This is my business. This is what I do

Pasquale DeCarlo stared into space as the district attorney gave his closing arguments. His face was impassive betraying nothing of concern or sadness or anger or any inkling of his possible feeling. It was a zen like state which he had perfected over the years from dealing with policemen. When they would ask you questions and in the old days beat the shit out of you if you didn't answer. Still Pasquale knew the gist of what the District Attorney was saying. Knew that basically it entaile that he was fucked and bound to go to prison for a very long amount of time. He knew the District Attorney for a long time. As a kid he had been raised in the same neighborhood that Pasquale had run. The District Attorney's father had steered the boy away from Pasquale and his haunts and Pasquale had understood. The father had wanted something better for his son than a life of crime and deceit. Pasquale had even respected this. But for him a life of crime and deceit was the only life imaginable. The state had a good case, well founded, with alot of evidence he had already started to realize this. Just a few years ago it seemed, this whole matter could have been cleared off by paying off the local police department, but times had changed. It was no longer a matter of local police departments but large governmental bodies which had turned they're collective eye towards organized crime. Pasquale pondered to himself wether he thought he had done wrong. In his mind he had done only the things nessacary to mantain and hold unto his power. All of the casualties had had caused as a result of this had been inflicted upon men who knew the rules of the road. Who were a part of the system. He had given the arrested officer nothing but his full name and his mother's adress and that was it. If they were looking for a snitch they had come to the wrong place. He would rather face the longest sentence possible than snitch on his worst enemy. In his mind it was the worst thing a man could possibly be. Pasquale watched as the District Attorney finished his closing arguments. His lawyer stood up and prepared to offer the defense. He knew the effort was most likely fruitless but he had not said this yet to his lawyer. He had wondered sometimes what would happen if someone just came into court on a serious crime and just said 'I am guilty I am a bad man and I deserve this.' Perhaps the honesty itself would floor the jury. It would likely be a long trial Pasquale thought to himself, spanning a long career. He wondered how long it would take and how he had gotten to arrive here..

System's normal all FOULED up!

I remember being a young lad maybe 6 or 8 and I was talking to my mother about Columbus day. I think it was something to the effect of being glad for having the day off from school, which I despised. I remember she replied by telling me about the horrible things the Columbus had actually done to the native's of hispanola the island that he first landed upon. On his second voyage he had brought with him a breed of dogs known as the mastiff to subdue them. The dogs were feared more than the cannons, because they could outrun the cannons, but the dogs were worse. They starved them to make them more bloodthristy. Still it changed my opinion forevermore about Christopher Columbus and what his signifigance is. How history is manipulated by those who interpert it. How this dude who was actually kind of a thug, an asshole, and otherwise sadistic individual came to be venerated enough to have his own day.

Just because your nametag says manager doesn't make you better than me

'I don't know about you, but I am so fuckin sick of this cloak and dagger shit.' Frank said taking a bite of his muffin. 'Its just the way things are nowadays, it ain't like the old days when you could just pay off just pay off officer mick with a few bucks of your take and a fifth of whiskey.' Jimmy looked around their surrounding and could not help himself wishing he had made his way up in the old days. 'Times are not good, I will give you that, but we're still earning.' He took a sip of his coffe. 'I'm earning but I got to look behind my fuckin back every two second to make sure its safe. I'm paranoid I mean whats the use?' They both felt uncomfortable in the booth in the back of the Friendly's. It wasn't their usual type of place, and they stood out like sore thumbs. Two swarthy Italian's with a penchant for using the f-bomb. Already they had raised the eyebrows of severl customer, eyeing them uneasily. 'I just can't tell who's really running the show, we get these random message's from the bogeyman now and again but who really knows, who actually seen the guy?' Jimmy's eyebrowing raised. 'Don't call him that.' He said annoyed. It was the moniker Frank and several other guys in the family called Vito behind his back. He had gone on the lam over two years ago after he had heard about the RICO indictment against and no one had seen him since. Already he had been known for his reclusive ways, he never spoke on the phone and only had one on one meetings with a handful of people. 'What is he going to get me?' Frank said mockingly. Jimmy stared straight ahead attempting to calm his nerves. A few years back he would have gotten up over that booth and proceed to knock Frank teeth in. However the years had tempered him and he kept his cool. Vito had brought him up in the life and had vouched for him. 'Anyhow he wants you to kick up his share to Tommy now.' Frank took a sip of his coffe looking around. 'Sure, I just want to get out of here this place gives me the creeps.'
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