Blissful tenderness

 

Monday, November 11, 2013

 

They always set traps for you, sending messages under phony names, a mobster bar owner pretending he is a gay man wondering how to arrange a marriage to his love of 12 years. How does he get the mayor to do it, when all he has to do is pick up the phone and call city hall.

This is a means to gain trust, to work inside your defenses so that “they” can get at you because you’ve been so successful at derailing plans they’d worked up since their last plans failed.

One of my long time contacts has been involved in a scheme for years, working behind the scenes for one group while pretending to represent the others, arranging for phony campaigns in which a lot of money is spent but not a lot is done to actually get a candidate elected.

This became evident in this last round when “they” went too far and did too much to take over the media – with only the bloggers to stop them.

Perhaps it all got hatched after their last guy went to jail, and they were left with nothing but schemes and some rich lady’s money they were skimming for years to fund campaigns she didn’t know anything about.

Getting “the girls” involved wasn’t new either, only this time they picked two that got outed before the deal was done, and things unraveled.

One of these girls or maybe another started in late 2011 on one of my colleagues, who ended up dying in the middle of the transaction so that even the police couldn’t figure out how he wound up in a model only blocks from his apartment.

“They” didn’t murder him. They just left him dead and moved on.

Maybe they got scared, and didn’t pick up their plans again for a few months when they began their coordinated attack, inside and outside, carrot and a stick, a black mail scheme and blissful tenderness in exchange for cooperation.

But things began to unravel. Something didn’t feel right to me, some odd sense that this was all a manipulation. Too many things seemed to happen at the same time that seemed like a scheme.

Somewhere in the middle of this, they panicked again, brought in a new girl to pick up where the old girl failed, and to keep on with the plot, moving pieces around the chest board so that when the game got serious and they wanted to pull the trigger on the person they really wanted to get, “they” had everything going for them.

And then, you were there spoiling their plans, outing the players, making it clear that “they” were putting up a fake candidate so that they could sneak their real candidate in, just as they did last time – before the real candidate screwed up and went to jail.

But you stopped them, unwrapped the present before the election, and may now have shown just the kind of game they have played all along, back then, maybe even before back then, and certainly this time, with all the players expected to milk that poor rich lady while scamming her to think they were on her side. Just one big con job in which every body got a piece of the action – but soon may find that “they” can’t play the game again because of you, because you showed them what was up, and who the players are, and how the rich lady got scammed form the start, even back then.

Now, “they” want to meet with you, to get to know you better, and they don’t have the blissful tenderness their girls did for their earlier victims. They mean you harm. And this time, it won’t be some poor fool dying of a heart attack by accident in a cheap motel room, but something deliberate – the first step in some new scheme that needs to get rid of you first.

If it smells fishy, then it is fishy.