Friday, February 04, 2005

Gun Turrets and Dodge Dusters

Top of the morning gents,

Northwest Washington is a breeding ground for terrorists. Same fertile soil and mountainous geography that spawned the world’s worst mass murderers, fuck all.

Lots of militia groups, shooting ranges, gun clubs. There’s also lots of first generation Europeans, largely Scandinavian; goddamn recipe for disaster. Lots of prisons too.

Pim has already demonstrated a strong affinity for pranks and destruction; he possessed an extraordinary IQ, and an aptitude for guns. What makes this criminal interesting is he ain’t around to deflect responsibility for the multiple felonies instigated by the author.

Pop the hood of a 75 Dodge Duster, 6-cylinder model; you’ll see a huge area of unused space directly behind the grill. According to Pim, if you bolt down a flat piece of sheet metal right behind the grill, directly in front of the radiator, you’ll have a decent platform to mount a remote control gun turret. I’ve assisted Pim in assembling disastrous gadgets and machines; I’ve also sat in jail cells with Pim on numerous occasions. Since Cully works at CareLEss Medical, a hospital supply and wheelchair manufacturing plant, we had a killer gimp joy stick, cables, and slave steering system, and 100’s of stolen deep cycle RV batteries. Nice place, just down from 85th and Greenwood, pert near the dumpster where Kevin Zabrisky was shot, I mean shot himself. Sweet headshot, I sure miss that gun.

One arrest was an exaggerated claim that Pim Vanden Ende and I were co-conspirators in some bombings in Lynnwood and Edmonds, Washington. Another was based on dubious evidence we were mixed up in a string of car thefts and missing merchandise from the Lynnwood Factory Direct Tire Sales. Why blame us? Who in their right mind would steal 68 Dodge Chargers and a conex container full of TA radials? Almost three decades have elapsed, and yes, those 68 Chargers may likely still be hidden on a ranch and saw mill, somewhere in Idaho. We did a cool trade for all the new TA radials.

I like trades and swaps, no money trail, no memory of the Scandinavian boys, or the hay trailer with stacks of new fat tires covered with a tarp. You’d be surprised how many favors a boy can curry, when trading stolen tires with unscrupulous wrecking yard owners. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pim got fired from Factory Direct Tire Sales, suspicion of theft. Fuck me in the goat ass.

We used to raise kids different 40 years ago. Normal kids couldn’t crush a soft dog turd with their bare hands, but a goat milker can pinch your head and break your fucking wrist, that is, if you’re dumb enough to shake hands with a Scandinavian goat herder. Pim wasn’t Scandinavian, or normal, at all, cuz he was Dutch. He’d tag along our morning paper route, stealing anything lying around the driveways and carports of our customers, at 4 am. Some days, our backpacks were so full of stolen goodies; we’d skip our 6 am swim turnout, and go to Cosmo’s junkyard and swap goodies for tools, carbs and intakes, and bogus car titles. Sometimes Cosmo had extra black powder and caps, and excellent tutelage.

As described before, the Northwest wasn’t such a blessed rurality. Some of the worst serial killers are spawned in the Northwest. Green River, Bundy Point etc are more than geographical anomalies. Go ahead; lift your nose with disdain, being surrounded by such homicidal culture affected the development of young men’s thought paradigms. All of us boys were bombarded with daily news of corpses appearing all over the tri-state area; Washington, British Columbia, and Alaska. Best fucking movies depict our artful dodgers finding dead bodies. Wake up fuck. We’re the same kids that watched this genre of movies.

With the intellectually rare luxury of multiple media competing fiercely for your hominid amusement of homicide, our indigenous plethora of serial killers and child poachers made Seattle’s fucking printing presses run on overdrive, for decades. Imagine, kids on a playground, describing how we’d kick a bad guys ass with our size 4 sneakers. Poor sibs were completely naïve and unaware of the many murderous relationships infecting our families, neighborhood, and region.

In an imaginary world where everything in history was videotaped, in Washington during the late 1920’s, it’s a sure bet you’ll see a familiar face, driving down Highway 99 at top speed, with a lynched labor activist, dragging from a rope, tied with a Bolen knot.

I recommend you boys take that drive; from Everett to Olympia, down old 99. But not at 75, and without the lynched labor activist dragging from your bumper, cuz, well shit, folks might mistake you for the owner of a local golf course and trucking firm, especially if ya have a Viking’s thirst for Jim Beam and unjustifiably cruel homicides.

Don’t jump to conclusions, at least not yet. Beasts can’t change in only coupla generations; besides, didn’t we agree that all humans possess DNA from both tyrants and slaves? So fuck you, I bet we’ll find piles of skeletons in all yer ancestors’ closets.

So, again, fuck you.

You gents keep your imaginations active, and your lust for violence hyperactive, that’s why we’re here today.

Karl.








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