Monday, April 28, 2014

The icicle garden. Redux

Nepotism like the Rose comes as a three legged stool, "a rose is a rose is a rose." There is nothing more beautiful than a Rose so being in the family is essential. There are differences and there are dependencies and therein lies the balancing act between the two or three. But in the icicle garden there is no freedom unless there is death. What is life without freedom? It is death. If you can not dream a dream where is the rehabilitation, where is the justice? Is it with you trying to stake out your space even though you do not have any ties to the system of justice, family ties. You want to be the individual without any history; your family of influence does not have any skin in the game only prejudice. Why is this? Maybe it has to do with your need to be so special. Like that is all your grandmother said to you as you were growing up, "Little one, you are oh so special." So, unless you are the bull of contention, I suggest that you become a member of the herd and head off to the slaughter house. There you can become the thorn on the rose bush or a piece of gristle in the sausage. Fuck, second thought, you could join the band wagon -the fucking crowd that wants to condemn others so that you too can become what your grandmother promised you would be, special. What the fuck do I mean? It is quite simple, Richard Valenti is going up for parole for the 18th time; this is in SC. He has been in prison since 1971. No argument from me- he murdered several girls because he believed at that time that he was talking to God and the girls needed to die, maybe for the way they were acting. I do not know. But I do know that the family does not have the right to sway his opportunity. Where is the law, where are his constitutional rights? The fucking problem with the parole board is that they are political; therefore, they are corruptible. Now, maybe if you are the "Grandfather of Soul" and you give out your autograph, the Parole Board will let you go -slip sliding- on by. Hwy, Gramps  don't forget to drop off those tickets for your next consort at the door on your way out; by the way the pardon is in the mail. Please, I'm not knocking the Grandfather of Soul. I'm knocking the system and the Parole Board for their lies. For them, it is not about justice; it's about their distorted sense of Christianity. It's a measure of redemption, fuck can you imagine if Pope Francis were in town. Maybe the competition would drive the parole board to at least wash his feet. Fucking A! Just schagging on down the boardwalk. Folly Beach, SC