Radio Debut

March 7, 2017

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 09:49
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
My brother’s a Republican!

Just found that out during our phone conversation moments ago. (Both our parents were Democrats, BTW.) But he’s not a crazy, fanatic Republican, says both parties are a bunch of BS. It basically came down to this:

If more Republicans were like him, this would be a better world. And if more Democrats were like me, likewise.

It was a very good conversation, glad I called him.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 11:32
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: My brother’s a Republican!

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 9:57 AM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Whew. Did he vote for the pussygrabber? }}

I believe he did, I didn’t ask him directly. “Give him a chance, if he doesn’t live up to his promises, then throw the bum out.” He also seems to be caught up with RW conspiracy theories, much like Tom Cahill. He believes that Social Security is in danger, which it is not.

He is hopeful that Trump will bring the jobs home, I said “I don’t think so.” That’s when he said “give him a chance.” So I pretty much kept my mouth shut. I have a feeling that most of the extended family is Republican.

And he never calls me or sends a letter, or emails. I’m always the one who contacts him. For that reason, we haven’t spoken to each other since I last called, eight months ago. So, there’s still that downside. Blech.

But, he has no problem with gays, hippies, etc. He seems to be pretty much open-minded. And, he’s been very nice to me over the phone, as well as handling my share of our parents’ inheritance.

Oh, yeah, he definitely wanted Bernie Sanders for president. So his heart’s in the right place.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 13:22
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

Listening to the podcast right now…quite a grim evaluation of these Trump times, gut-wrenchingly honest. Way too true to be denied. He mentioned his Facebook page, so I visited, found the piece he recited on KNYO:


Somebody hit me in the back of the head with what felt like a dumbbell or some other heavy, unyielding iron thing, as I slept last night. The blow pushed my face into the mattress, and I said, “I’m losing consciousness.” In a millisecond, I changed that to: “I’m dead. Somebody has killed me. I can’t defend myself. I can’t protect Ellie.” I thought about famous bad people who have been here to Mendocino–Charlie Manson & family, Jim Jones & his doomed family, Lake & Ng, the California Sierra-Nevada torturers and murderers who were sexually aroused by the suffering of people when their bodies were carved up and violated, when they were forced to watch their wives, husbands, babies and toddlers under slow torture. They are the people I lock my door against as the world descends into hell, why I own things for self-defense and keep them close. It was no use. I was murdered. But, another millisecond went by: “You’re brain is still working. You’re not dead.”

I woke up, tried to sort things out, and found no injury nor any clue to what had happened. The sense of being brained included no preceding dream. It came from nowhere.

Today the chainsaw I just got back from the repair shop didn’t work. Ditto the lawnmower I just retrieved from the same repair shop. I took the chainsaw in and, for the first time in the 15 years I’ve been buying my Husqvarna tools and gardening supplies there, I made a scene. I’ve spent my life thinking if you are loyal and steadfast with a merchant, they will value your business and take care of your needs. I was furious and said all that and made a scene, which, more than an hour later, still has me vibrating. So I confront the news with an angry mind. I learn that the new President and his new Secretary of Education, Betsy DeVos, visited a Catholic “charter” school in Florida. Charter schools are a lousy idea shoved down our gullets as a great idea, when, in fact, they are the perfect scheme for making education in the United States of America a private, profitable business to favor the wealthy and short-change kids who aren’t rich.

Betsy DeVos is the sister of Erik Prince, who used his family’s enormous wealth to create a civilian army to privatize the military. In Iraq, Blackwater did mass murder, rape, torture and all the things that make war awful, without the accounting–a very loose, readily overridden accounting- that our armies are supposed to honor under international conventions–because they were “Private Enterprise,” the gold standard for American capitalists. So horrendous were Blackwater’s offenses in Iraq and in the flooded, devastated streets of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, Erik changed his company’s name to “Xe Services” and then the lofty “Academi.” He has been denounced for his crimes in the small media and given trivial notice in the major media. The Princes and DeVos belong to a harebrained Christian cult beloved by right wing, profit-mad one-percenters, and this is the “base” that Trump and DeVos were championing in their Florida tour. Prince and DeVos, in a reasonable world, would be strung up, but in this insane period, are celebrated, rewarded and given tremendous power.

That I have to point out that these are not good Americans (or even good humans) is past tiresome to me. That I have to keep telling people I love to open their eyes is past exhausting to me. It is a kind of existential hell, speaking obvious truth to people who shouldn’t need to have the obvious pointed out to them. DeVos and Prince and Trump are the sort of malformed creatures that hold sway in the land of the free. They should be in cages at the city gates. They torment my sleep and make me a strident, frustrated old man in my waking. I can’t bear it.

It didn’t occur to me he might be /your/ Mitch, until Marco told him at the end of their talk: “Say hello to Ellie for me.”

In case you didn’t stay up last night, to hear Mitch, you can get the podcast:

<a href="http://www.mediafire.com/file/29rjlu18qbrct1f/KNYO_0218_MOTA_2017-03-03.mp3&quot; target="_blank"tinyurl.com/zekeread

Discussion begins at 1:02:40.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 13:53
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 1:26 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Yep. That was Mitch. If he’d consulted me first, I’d have advised him against sounding quite so drunk and despairing… }}

Ha! I’m glad you didn’t, as many others go through such difficult waters, and his sharing this from deep in his heart, will actually have a cathartic impact. Or not.

Now what /you/ need to do, is prepare for an onslaught of concerned neighbors and more distant members of the Mendo Community bringing food and laughter, to cheer him up…starting with Marcos’s visit come Monday. Maybe they’ll hold a mock funeral in his honor.

I guess you’ll now have to put up with town folk asking how Mitch is, whenever you shop for groceries and run other errands around and about The Mysterious Masonic Temple..for the next few weeks or longer.

Maybe you should were a garlic necklace until the embarrassing scandal blows over.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 15:08
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 2:28 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ You probably noticed how gracious and kind Marco was. That’s Marco for you. He can also be ferocious, slicing and dicing right-wingers and other fools on the local list serve, toying with them, making fools of them with his impish wit…. }}

He’s an Ascended Master of the Order of Mendocino Mages.

{{ This isn’t the first time Mitch has called Marco’s show and gauntly unloaded. It’s okay–I’m used to it, and so is Marco and listeners. It’ll be fun to see him on Monday. }}

You should see what I posted to Mitch on his FB page.

{{ In case you’re wondering what Marco looks like, he could easily make a living as a Jesus impersonator–tall, lanky, long dark hair and beard (with nary a trace of gray though he’s 58), dark, dark eyes set in deep shady caves. }}

I pictured him with a silver-gray crewcut, tall and lanky (got that part right), looking more like a harbor seal than a messiah. This coming Friday should be a hoot!


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 18:53
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
OMG, he read Chapter 1 of my novel last night!

Start at 3 hours:47 minutes….he described me as a “young man,” I have to correct him about that. Maybe he read just a part of my chapter, not the whole thing. I just started listening.


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 19:03
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
No, he’s reading a part of the chapter.

…you’ll see: the part where I touch the bullet lodged in Randolph’s back. Followed by one of my poems not in the chapter per se, but a link. He’s reading the online version, different from the paper one. I just paused the audio after he read the first verse. Gonna step out, breathe the fresh, rainy air before stepping back in and, with enormous gratitude, listen to the remainder.


Date: Sat, 04 Mar 2017 19:14
From: Eleanor Cooney
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject:
Re: OMG, he read Chapter 1 of my novel last night!

Wow!

“Young man.” That’s great. Little does he know you’re eight years older than he.


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 20:12
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
I know this is a setup, El…

…and you can’t convince me otherwise.

When I stepped out for a few minutes, I walked up Market to Castro Street with my umbrella shielding me from the Goddess’s own joyful tears. I was, and still am of course, in a celebratory mood. Proceeding back to my hovel, I glanced through Beaux’s large window (that’s a gay bar) to see if Larkin were there…and maybe would step out to give me a chance to tell him about my radio adventure. After all, he’s part of it.

Alas, no Larkin. But then as I resumed my walk, there I saw him, just 10 feet ahead: commiserating in his usual, boisterous manner with another gay patron (no doubt possessing an ample bulge in his crotch; his wallet, I mean.) So I stopped about 20 feet away beneath an awning, to enjoy the view. I’m sure he was aware of my presence, but gave no overt sign. As I lingered, I soon realized that my neighbor, Mark Epstein from down the hall, was standing just several feet from me, chatting with a woman friend in a recessed doorway. He looked up, I waved. Maybe he thought I was spying on him.

Though Mark has remained a distant quasi-friend over the 18+ years he’s lived here, he has read my novel, and our lives are mystically joined by his little papillion doggie, who passed away seven years back. Skelly would visit me every evening, such sweet happiness! Trusting me with his dog like that, was Marc’s way of apologizing for a grievous wrong he committed…but no point going into that, now. Just one month ago, he finally adopted another papillion, a rescue dog 10 years old! Don’t know what took him so long, but glad to see his new companion.

Larkin eventually entered the bar with his current squeeze (wallet, I mean) for the night, and Mark-and-friend also departed a moment later. I soon followed, once the two had entered 2306, that I may not come off as a busybody. They were standing by the elevator as I swung the gate wide. We both exchanged a brief “hello” and I climbed the stairway. So now I conjecture:

You, Mitch, Marco, my brother, Larkin, Mark, Tom (Cahill), are all in cahoots: the timing, the synchronicity in this string of events in LESS THAN 24 HOURS, are beyond mundane coincidence. (Mitch calling in with an emotive masterpiece, overwhelming in its grief, the same night Marco reads my own heart wrenching tale…what are the odds!)

Now, back to hearing the rest of Marco’s narration from My Literary Labor of Love, My Own Holy Grail! What an extraordinary two days. And thank you /so/ much for being such a kind presence in my world, for so many years now.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 21:46
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Reptilian Devotees
Subject:
Listen to a reading from my novel on the radio!

Marco McClean, the host of a late-Friday-night radio show in Ft. bragg, CA, surprised me by reading from chapter one of my novel, just last night! I didn’t expect this to happen so soon. Fortunately, he saves each show as a podcast, which you may listen to by clicking on the following link:

tinyurl.com/marcozeke1

You can either left-click on the download link, to immediately start playing, or right-click on the download link, to save it to your hard drive…then play it later, at your convenience.

The reading starts at 3 hours, 47 minutes, and ends at 4 hours, 10 minutes. (There is a musical interlude in the middle; just click through it.)

If you care to leave a comment about the reading, just go to his blog entry, here:

tinyurl.com/marcozeke2

In fact, I urge you to do so, since any favorable post about me will help boost the potential for getting my word out.

Your post won’t show up immediately, as he reviews it first. I know, because I just left a comment there, myself. Here it is:


Marco: What an honor to hear you read from my novel Friday night! Certainly a surprise, as I didn’t expect that to occur so soon. I’m listening to the podcast right now, as I sit in my room and the gracious rain falls from the dark heavens. I chuckled when you introduced me as a “young man,” for I am actually 66. Clarification to my poem, “September’s Passage”: I was still Gene Catalano back then, but changed my name to Zeke Krahlin in 1996. This is mentioned in my book a little further down the line. Googling my name, Ezekiel J Krahlin, works just fine, with the second result pointing to my web site: gay-bible.org. The first result is a link to the ebook version of my novel.

I am amazed at the synchronicity of Eleanor’s partner, Mitch, pouring his heart out in a grievous recitation, on your show that same night as my own poetic lament. What were the odds? I then went to Mitch’s Facebook wall, and discovered he also posted that essay there, so commented:


You guys have all the fun, up there in Mendocino. Tremendous piece of writing, Mitch…who says your impact on the world is diminishing when you can still write like that? But now, someone needs to start kicking you in the butt until you start laughing again. Ellie’s got her work cut out for her!”

Now, back to hearing the rest of your podcast, a most enjoyable and revelatory pastime, especially since we have nothing like that any more, on San Francisco’s airwaves. Thank you so much for including me in your Mendocino County community of oddballs, dear hearts, pioneers and mystical wanderers.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 23:44
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marco McClean
Subject:
Re: In case my comment didn’t take…

On 3/4/17, Marco McClean wrote:

{{ I don’t know how to set it so it just posts things when people send them. I don’t spend a lot of time managing the weblog; it’s just a notice-board about my show. }}

Sometimes the comment shows up after posting (w/”awaiting moderation”), sometimes it doesn’t. So that’s a WordPress glitch, which only adds to the confusion. IOW, it /should/ show up right after posting, even though awaiting your moderation.

{{ Next week is a Fort Bragg week for me –I’ll be doing the show from KNYO. The number there is 707 961 3022. }}

The contact page shows 962 for the prefix, as in:

Studio: 707-962-3022

Do they need to update the number?

{{ Call any time after about 9:15 Friday (March 10) night and let it ring awhile in case I’ve put a record on so I can use the toilet, or if I’m out back getting something out of the car, or something. There’s only one phone line; if it’s busy, wait a little bit and try again. }}

No problem. I look forward to our first on-air dialogue.

{{ What makes you sound best is to have some of your work ready to read into the phone, to turn to that at the end of whatever we talk about. }}

Easy peasy. I’ll have a number of short pieces loaded and ready to go. One very funny, one political, and other stuff. I don’t know how much time you’ll allot me, but even reading just one of my pieces would be a pleasure.

I don’t have my own Internet service, so I’ll have to forego listening in real time. I tried, using the free wifi from a coffeehouse across the street (and my extended USB wifi dongle) but it wasn’t robust enough to stay connected…I had to keep clicking reload every two minutes or so. I couldn’t just sit back, close my eyes and get into the show. *sigh*

Just so you know: my diction is a bit slurred due to lack of teeth. Medi-Cal discontinued dental care for adults over a decade ago…thus began the deterioration. But when they resumed it two years back, thanks to Obamacare’s expanded Medicaid, I discovered that I still couldn’t get my teeth repaired because they want to charge me $518 per month share of cost! That’s almost half my total income. Don’t know how they get away with it, and my letter of grievance about this to numerous politicians and progressive, online news services has not gotten anyone’s attention, yet. As if I’m the only person in the country, this is happening to. It also means I can’t afford other vital services. This is being swept under the rug by the Dems, while they pat each other on the back, over the “miraculous” success of Medicaid.

But that’s an issue for another time. I’ve composed several blog entries on this matter so far. Here’s the original, called “Obamacare Defecates on the poor,” which includes my letter to Nancy Pelosi:

tinyurl.com/obamadef

The embarrassment of my wretched teeth has caused me to cease doing open mic readings or gay standup…making things more difficult to promote my talents. I do /not/ want to be the Moms Mabley of queer comedy. Anyways, I think I’ll enunciate with enough clarity that every word be understood, even through the telephone lines. Since another tooth broke in half several months back, I’ve acquired a pronounced lisp. But I’ve adapted where I place my tongue, in order to soften the lisp.

I don’t consider myself a stereotype gay, yet here I am with a pronounced lisp, and thanks to my carpal tunnel syndrome, my wrists have grown limp. What next: a fungal infection on my chest that looks like a pink triangle? Take my domestic partner, please.

Friday I’m yours,

Zeke


Listen to my Queer Tales on Radio

March 6, 2017

This Friday, March 10th, Marco McClean, the host of Ft. Bragg’s KNYO weekly show, “Memo of the Air” will be interviewing me live, after which I will read several short, gay themed tales. Starting around 9:15 PM. Listen via live streaming at:

knyo.org/listen.htm

In case it’s too late to tune in by the time you read this, just log on to memooftheair.wordpress.com and play the podcast dated 2017/10/04. Start at fifteen minutes in.

Beyond that, he’ll be reading from my self-published novel, “Free Me From This Bond” every week until its end. In fact, he started narrating it last Friday. Download the podcast dated 2017/03/04 here:

tinyurl.com/marcozeke1

The reading starts at 3 hours, 47 minutes, and ends at 4 hours, 10 minutes.

This book is about my adventures as a gay street activist here in San Francisco, from around 2006 to 2012. And features my two greatest heroes: Randolph Taylor, our own community’s Nam Vet war hero (now deceased), and one Arwyn Miles who is alive and kicking.

Not his real name, by the way, but he is quite a unique character that inspires me no end. We first met in the SOMA neighborhood, but he since migrated to the Castro some years back. He is a real bar fly and good fun. The first scene read by Mr. McClean takes place in the old Hole in the Wall Saloon.


How I Discovered KNYO & How It Discovered Me

March 3, 2017

Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 12:22
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
KNYO Radio Station, Ft. Bragg

Reading Tom Cahill’s latest post to the Anderson Valley Advertiser (AVA), I came across another post that mentioned KNYO. So I checked out their web page, and decided to listen. Lo and behold, Thom Hartmann was on the air!

This is funny, because these past two months I’ve gotten into the habit of listening to him via Youtube. But YT’s streaming videos are often choppy and freeze up. But KNYO doesn’t have that problem!


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 15:12
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: KNYO Radio Station, Ft. Bragg

On Thu, Mar 2, 2017 at 2:17 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ My good pal Marco McClean does an all-night radio show from KNYO every Friday starting at 10. Eclectic, witty, wide-ranging and every once in a while I call in and read something! }}

Excellent! Especially on those nights you have insomnia; you can even call in! Lucky for me (since I can’t do streaming from home), he saves them as podcasts. Downloading last night’s show right now, will listen tonight.

His page also provides other downloads that do not appear on the show. I’ll probably make this a habit, as there’s nothing much to listen to on the SF airwaves, any more..Clear Channel ruined that, because those shows weren’t big money makers:


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 15:26
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Just posted this to Marco…

{{ Hey, Marco! A mutual friend of ours, Eleanor Cooney, said you have quite an eclectic, all night radio show. I live in SF, but enjoy reading the Anderson Valley Advertiser. Someone mentioned KNYO, so I checked it out, and told Eleanor I’m now listening to that station; and that’s when she brought up your name. So I will download last night’s podcast and listen to it this evening…since I don’t have Internet from home, due to my low income. Like Eleanor, I am also an author, and have many fun tales on my website and blog. Though they may not be your cup of tea, they are all gay themed. But unlike any gay stories you’ve ever seen! Here’s a short piece for you to check out, when/if you have the time: https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2015/07/31/misfortune-is-a-cookie-named-zeke/ }}

Let’s see if or how soon he replies!


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 23:46
From: Marco McClean
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject:
ZekeBlog 2.0 Comment

Thank you for commenting on my weblog. I hope it’s okay for me to occasionally read at random from your work (book, etc.) on my radio show; I’ll be doing that unless you tell me not to. Also you can choose what I read aloud, by just pasting it as plain text in the body of an email, and I’ll be sure to read that. If there are swears, that’s fine, but I’ll wait till after 10pm to read it, to avoid agitating the weasels.

Every once in awhile I’m passing through Mendocino during normal people’s waking hours and I stop by Eleanor (Cooney)’s and Mitch’s place to visit. Any friend of theirs is a friend of mine.

Again, hi and thanks.


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 16:08
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marco McClean
Subject:
Re: ZekeBlog 2.0 Comment

You have my permission to read /any/ of my works w/o asking beforehand. I will soon come up with a list of my best tales (outside of my book), to make things easier. Something I’ve been planning to do for awhile, now…as my blog grows and they get buried in the past.

WOW, thank you Marco! My mind is blown, by your offer. I’m sure anyone who is not a homophobe will gain much delight in listening to my weird, gay tales. Since I do not have Internet at home, my only request is that you let me know when you’ve you’ve read one of my pieces, that I may download the podcast.


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 20:44
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marco McClean
Subject:
Tom Cahill is also a friend.

I’m sure you know him. I first had the honor to meet him, when he swooped down from up north, to support me for supporting Nam Vet Randolph Taylor, whose face appears on the cover of my novel. Tom’s not a close friend, as he tends to bounce around the world. But we’ve resumed contact several weeks ago and, as you probably know, he is now in a retirement home in Cluny, France. He has sent me some of his recent chapters of his autobiography in progress, along with posts from his mailing list.

Tom supported Randolph’s 1984 fast on behalf of Vietnam Veterans, by fasting himself! This was before we met, or we even knew about each other. When Randolph ended his 40-day fast, Tom continued his own fast, but changed its cause to prison rape. You may view a page on my web site, dedicated to Mr. Cahill, here:

http://www.gay-bible.org/other/cahill.htm

I’ve resumed reading the AVA, this time online, because of Tom’s posts there. But I also fell in love with Mendocino once more, as a result. I have read some of your pieces, as I searched for “Tom Cahill.” Not realizing, then, of your friendly association with Eleanor and Mitch…two excellent people, I agree.

Presently listening to your show from last night…your mom’s poem is eloquent and frightening! As was the essay, Tertullian, which I previously read on the AVA. Then a scathing critique of Hospitality House. Now, I’m hearing about Donald Trump’s possible clinical dementia/syphillis…no surprise here. You read well, excellent radio voice. I now read the AVA several times per week. Looking forward to your letters there.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 22:30
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marco McClean
Subject:
Re: Tom Cahill is also a friend.

On Thu, Mar 2, 2017 at 9:58 PM, Marco McClean wrote:

{{ He patched and fiberglassed my kayak in the mid-1990s. I can attest to his mid-1990s fiberglassing prowess. }}

:D

{{ Let’s talk on the phone sometime, on the air. Maybe March 10? }}

Sounds like fun to me, Marco. I have a land line only…but that’s best for call-ins, anyway. I have an LD service that only charges me a penny a minute. I presume I dial your number, whatever that is. But just in case it’s the other way around, here’s mine: 415-863-3790.


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 20:21
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: Fwd: ZekeBlog 2.0 Comment

On Thu, Mar 2, 2017 at 6:42 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Kewl!! }}

With a capital K. Mr. McClean posted his offer via my web page’s “contact” form…which tells me he perused my web site before sending off his letter. What’s so neat about his show, is it’s livestreamed, so my stories will garner a much larger audience than just from your neck of the woods.

I’m listening to his radio show from last night, right now…he’s reading someone’s piece from the AVA about the homeless in Ft. Bragg. Scathing critique on an institution there called Hospitality House…abusing the homeless, etc. Before that, he read a brilliant essay called “Tertullian,” which I also read about a week ago in the AVA. It sent chills up my spine…did you come across it yourself?

He likes to play yodeling music, I see! Searched his name on the AVA, and realized I’ve already read some of Marcos’ contributions there, including a piece posted just above one by Tom Cahill! I bet they know each other. I’ll let him know that Tome gave me incridible support for my own efforts to help Nam Vet Randolph Taylor, who is also the main hero in my novel, that he’s going to read to his audience.

Hmm…you discovered this author on Alternet more than a decade ago, Tom Cahill swooped down from 10 Mile to honor me re. Randolph, Anthony Serra, a friendly neighbor in my building moved up to Mendocino (where I visited him once), and now Marco wants to read my talesl!

Something about Mendocino: maybe you’re all a cabal of white witches.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 20:46
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: KNYO Radio Station, Ft. Bragg

On Thu, Mar 2, 2017 at 6:37 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Marco’s a National Treasure, and the most mentally healthy person I know… }}

Mendocino seems to harbor quite a grand collection of angels.


Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2017 22:55
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject:
Re: Fwd: Tom Cahill is also a friend.

On Thu, Mar 2, 2017 at 10:35 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote [after reading Marco’s invite to speak on the air]:

{{ Zowie! }}

He must have a sharp nose for sniffing out hidden gold. :D

Did you have something to do with this…calling each other up, and creating this scenario to surprise me? At any rate, you better be listening to that show when I’m on the air, or I’ll cut you out of my Misfortune Cookie(tm) franchise! If by some strange chance you bump into Anthony Senna, tell him to tune in, too! He remembers me as Gene Catalano, the one who painted “Unicorn w/o a Horn.”

This is getting silly.

– Zeke


Another Democrat Spreads the Medicaid Lie

January 12, 2017

One Alix Rosenthal, who writes a regular column for the SF Examiner, made a claim in today’s article, that Medi-Cal is totally free for the poor, who are disabled or elderly. Here is the article’s URL, which includes my reply. Since it may not be accepted, my reply is also posted below:

http://www.sfexaminer.com/republican-voters-power-save-obamacare/

–begin my reply:

Regarding your statement, “Medi-Cal — the program that pays for 100 percent of your health care costs if you are senior, poor or disabled.” That is a cruel deception. For unless you collect a Social Security amount of $600 or less, you must pay a monthly share of cost (SOC) that takes every dollar above 600. For me, that means my SOC is $518…almost half my income!

This SOC mandate was instituted under Gov. Schwarzenegger’s watch in 1989, and is based on that year’s cost of living. It has never been raised since. Our present governor, Jerry Brown, has not seen fit to rectify this unfair arrangement that rips off the poor. Even though he is a Democrat, unlike Schwarzenegger. Not all states that have accepted expanded Medicaid charge a SOC, including Massachusetts, New Mexico and Minnesota. But I suspect that the majority of the 19 states that have expanded Medicaid, charge an exorbitantly unaffordable SOC.

When Obama announced expanded Medicaid, he said he’d leave it up to each state, how to spend it. Obviously, that includes whether or not they will squeeze the wallets of those who can least afford “affordable care.” As far as I’m concerned, there should be no SOC for those so poor as to be eligible for Medicaid in the first place. Obamacare, therefore, is more like a death sentence for tens of millions of Medicaid recipients, rather than a boon. Medi-Cal’s own site used to include a statement that admitted this SOC is so exorbitant, as to be useless to a large number of their clients. They have since erased it, replacing that remark with a bunch of undecipherable operating costs. I had to go to a dental service site, to find proof of my claim, and you can find it here:

http://www.shareofcost.com/state-assistance/share-of-cost-california.html

From which I quote:

“The MNL has not changed since 1989 and is $600 for an individual. Thus, anything an individual earns over $600 a month becomes that individual’s share of cost. For example, if an individual earns $1,100 a month, that person must incur $500 in medical costs each month before receiving any coverage from the Medi-Cal program. For consumers with a high share of cost, Medi-Cal provides little more than catastrophic coverage and does not enable them to access health care services.”

(MNL stands for “maintenance need level.”)

I was shocked four months after I applied for Medi-Cal (which I dropped over a decade ago, due to so many cutbacks it became useless to me), to receive their SOC notice, declaring that $518 monthly fee! Assuming this was an error, I marched on down to their office, only to be told no, that is the correct amount. I was angered and dismayed, and they gave no explanation as to why such a ridiculous monthly charge. So I had to do my homework by searching the web. The truth is hard to track down, as Medi-Cal has intentionally obfuscated the SOC fee. Other states’ Medicaid pages seem to be hiding the truth, too. Except for those that do not charge any SOC which, in their cases, they tell you up front, there is no monthly expense.

In June of 2015 I emailed a letter of outrage to Congressperson Nancy Pelosi (along with a copy of it to other Democratic leaders and 17 major alternative/progressive online news sites). Ms. Pelosi has never responded, nor have any of the other people and organizations I posted to. You may read that letter here:

https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/obamacare-defecates-on-the-poor/

Meanwhile, the Democratic Party elitists pat each other on the back over the “miraculous” success of Medicaid. The Democratic Party, with President Obama at the helm, is complicit in this deadly dupe. Though I voted for him twice, I am disgusted at this deception that is the manipulation of both government and mainstream (and even alternative) media. For you, too, Ms. Rosenthal, believe this lie.

My teeth are almost all gone, and I cannot get any annual checkups to prevent or slow down blindness, due to my age, which is now 66. Many other preventative and treatable ailments are way beyond any sort of affordability. And this must be true of many others receiving Medi-Cal. Yet there is no outcry, no support groups, no political movement to bring justice to California’s poorest.


Another Larkin Update

November 17, 2016

Date: Tue, 15 Nov 2016 23:00:47
Subject:
Another Larkin Update
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Andromedan Cohort

I now know that Larkin hangs out at the booze den down the street, same side as my building, every Tuesday evening from around 6 PM to 9:20 or so. As luck would have it, that dive, too, has a large picture window facing the street. Just like Twin Peaks Tavern across the way. So it is now my habit to walk by there once I arrive hovel, walk slowly enough by the plate glass, to be sure he sees me…maybe even throw him a glance. Or a kiss, just to add a little spice to the grade B scenario.

So around 6:30 I approach “Beaux” (I know, stupid name for a bar); side door is open and I hear his stentorian, playful voice. But alas, his back is to the window and my mission fails. Returning on the same side of the street around ten minutes later, I do not see him anywhere; perhaps he is in the restroom. I light up a cig and hang out front several minutes, but no Larkin. Funny, though:

As I near the gate of 2306, lo and behold there’s his housemate Zachary, sitting at a taqueria table out front, perusing a magazine. He looks up as I pass within two feet: I look back and throw him a “your pathetic” chuckle. Other than a brief grimace, he does nothing. Now in front of my domicile, I lean against the bus stop shelter fifteen feet catty-corner. I watch to see if maybe Larkin will show up, but after three minutes or so, decide to enter Hotel California North, and watch some Youtube videos I downloaded this afternoon.

So time passes gazing at the LCD monitor and the various scenes that capture my attention. But not so much that I don’t wrestle with stepping out once more, to fulfill my Tuesday mission.

“No don’t bother,” my lazy self commands. “He’ll be ambling up the sidewalk soon enough, and you can either step out to greet him as he wanders by, or call out to him from your window.”

“True enough,” I ponder, “especially since His Goofiness always makes a point of acting boisterous as he crosses beneath my window. No doubt in hopes I’ll holler out, and I receive in return, the expected ‘fuk off’ remark that is, by now, his trademark greeting.”

But after watching episode six of “The Young Pope,” (very good BTW, though I don’t think Jude Law is so handsome as to play captivatingly gorgeous men, though he often does), my pixie side gets the better of me. So I don my sneakers once more, and my hoodie, and with a little tingle in my gut, step outside and walk towards Castro Street.

Nope, he’s not there at all. So I shrug my shoulders and continue my stroll until I reach the corner. Then something tells me to stop, turn around, and march back…I might get lucky this time. But I must admit: that was more my lazy half speaking, than it was the pixie.

As I near the bar once more, I see a tall, skinny man leaning against the lamppost, dressed in baggy shirt and pants, and sporting a crewcut. His back is turned to me, hunched over and diddling with a cell phone. There’s a large van parked beside him, offering to test anyone for HIV, bright light emitting from its windows and open door.

“Is that Larkin?” I wonder, though I can’t be sure.

I approach and pass, then look back. Yep, that’s the devil, alright! He is angled in such a way as to not notice me…or, I should say, to “pretend” to not notice me. Since we both know by now, he’s quite the game player and loves to trip me up. I call to him:

“Hello, Larkin!”

He looks up with a ready smile, but then when he realizes it’s his better half, scowls a bit.

“Go away, don’t bother me!” he gestures with a wave of that gangly arm.

My ambulation is slowed almost to a halt, though I continue to drift away as I speak once more:

“Well have a nice night anyway,”

He keeps gesturing those “get outta here” swipes as he replies:

“Yes, you too, have a beautiful night, just don’t bother me…aargh!”

“Thank you,” are my final words as I turn forward and leave his aura. Though I decide to pause further up the block, to have a smoke and watch him for a bit. As I do that, I think:

“I bet he was standing there all along, just out of my sight, watching me pause by the bar’s door and peek in. And I bet it was he who summoned me back, that I have the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. Once again, he tricks me into thinking I missed my chance, but at the last moment…voila!”

And he wasn’t particularly harsh, just like the last time our paths crossed (at the Castro Metro stairs), and since I had that dream of reconciliation with him and Zachary. In fact, he was gentle this time, though abrupt. But I’m concerned about Zachary, for when I saw him tonight, he looked haggard: hollow, dark bags under his eyes and way too skinny. Very elongated, drooping face, too. Like he has AIDS or something else equally serious. Cancer? Emphysema? Meth or alcohol abuse? I decided that, if I ever get the chance to speak to him, I’ll ask him if he’s alright, break through the wall of hostility Larkin created.

For my continuous reaching out to Larkin is because of all the truly /kind/ things he’s done for me, especially when he spoke these words to me in May of 2014:

“Our friendship, our being brought together, is a Godsend!”

And he spoke those words while crouched down to my level, face close to mine and one hand on my shoulder. Words full of passion and love. So he’s been fluctuating between icy hatred and sweet compassion towards me, these past four years. Forcing me to choose between the /mean/ Larkin and the /kind/ Larkin. Of course, I settled on the latter after pondering the situation for a long, long time. And I think he’s doing this intentionally, as a sort of test, or initiation, or a kind of Kung-Fu spiritual trial.

Okay, I’m gonna pause here ’cause I just noticed it’s 9:26 and I wanna step out to see if Larkin comes by. I don’t think he did yet, as he bellows and does a high karate kick on the metal sign sticking out of the curb. Which is in front of the taqueria. I’ll be back in a few…

[pause]

Okay, I’m back. You won’t believe this, here’s what happened:

Outside by the bus stop, having my smoke while gazing off towards where Larkin may be approaching, when someone startles me with a tap on my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry!”

I notice he’s a handsome, red bearded man in a funky, thick knitted light brown sweater that flows to the upper thighs. His pants look like pajama pants, with some sort of flags or rectangles in blue and yellow, on a black background and scattered about.

“No, you didn’t scare me,” I smile into those cool, gray irises. “I was lost in thought.”

He wants a light, so I hand him my Bic. He say thanks, hands it back. and saunters away. I call to him:

“That’s a wicked sweater ya got!”

He turns and says, “Thanks!” Then: “Check this out!”

I watch as he pulls up the sweater to reveal a yummy, tight torso girded in a pair of hip hugging, black boxer briefs. Sparse, light orange hairs, sweetly arranged.

“Is this what he wants to show me?” I question to myself. “Where’s this going?”

Then he yanks down a dark shirt hidden beneath that sweater, to reveal that it matches those silly pants.

“Oh, you’re wearing PJs!” I exclaim.

He smiles back, says “yeah,” then turns away to continue his march up Market Street.

No Larkin though, so I return upstairs to enjoy my dinner of thick, lentil-potato-onion-tomato soup garnished with kimchee, tamari sauce and a tablespoon of nutritional yeast sprinkled in. Well, no sooner had I consumed the sixth spoonful, than I hear a “whack” on that metal sign outside. Peering out the window, I see guess who?

Larkin.

Apparently, he had ordered a bite from the taqueria, as seems to be his wont these days, after exiting *cough* “Beaux” for the night…and is prancing some kind of terpsichore on the sidewalk, with complicated steps, waving of the arms, and a broad whirligig here and there. The arms of a large, fluffy off-white jacket are tied about his waist, giving the impression of a matador. He greets anyone who passes by and receptive to his handshakes, hugs and friendly greetings.

After he dances several more vigorous minutes, I call out to him:

“I’ve seen better dancing!” He doesn’t seem to hear me, so I repeat the line. He then looks up, hollers back:

“Leave me alone, stop bothering me!”

Then he loudly mutters other words which I can’t really hear, as he positions himself behind a lamppost so I can’t see his face. I retort:

“Yet you still speak to me!”

His public antics continue as he awaits his meal, chatting to other patrons. But then I hear his conversation with someone who is apparently an employee, laughing at Larkin’s humorous quips. As I listen, I realize he’s looking for a job there, questioning the employee about who to talk to, when to show up, stuff like that. Well, Eleanor, this is /most/ intriguing, for if he /does/ start working there, he’s even /closer/ to my residence than *hack* “Beaux” his newest watering hole!

I call out to him a coupla more times, something humorous. At one point he directs a finger at me, from the end of a lanky arm, and shouts:

“Stop stalking me!”

I just laugh back: “Ha! Whatever you say.”

Well, Larkin steps into the taqueria for maybe ten minutes, before stepping back out and walking towards, and beyond, my window. I call out:

“Thanks for the show, I really appreciate it. That was very nice.”

He says not a word, but continues down the sidewalk. So I bellow:

“I hope you get the job! God bless you, Larkin, God bless you!’

So here we have a new story, El, one that Larkin had already planned for me to write about, once the scenario ensued and played out. As My Dragon Guardian has been doing since…oh, I don’t know…since we first met, I suppose.

He /knew/ I wanted to see him tonight, so what does he do? He puts on a show!

And it makes perfect sense, his showing up more frequently in my world again…as the gay holocaust is close upon us, and my destiny about to be fulfilled as a global LGBT leader, with Larkin my guardian, advisor, teacher and BFF. Just like I’ve figured all along, and even described in my novel, published in July of 2013.

Guess I’m soon to be “freed from this bond.” Like releasing the bronco from its pen, kicking and snorting for victory.

– Zeke


Zeke’s War Correspondence, Issue #1

November 12, 2016

Make no doubt about it, we are at war…a new civil war, a most UNcivil war. The genocide of LGBTs is about to begin…or at least, the intent will be made known the moment Donald Trump assumes the presidency. But also make no mistake:

The Democratic Party is complicit in setting up the scenario whereby sexual minorities will be scapegoated as a warning to everyone else that, should they oppose the corporate status quo, they too shall be persecuted. FOR BOTH PARTIES ARE ONE. I foresaw such an outcome on the day President Bill Clinton signed the Defense of Marriage Act. For which I proposed the world’s first gay militia, in the following essay:

http://gay-bible.org/write/4_militia.htm

David Icke is a reptilian conspiracy theorist, whom I never took seriously until recently. Maybe he’s changed since he first started, but I’ve been astonished that, lately, he’s very much right on regarding today’s social crises. See for yourself, and tell me if you think I’m wrong:

I have also recently discovered an excellent Youtube news channel, Redacted Tonight, that uses humor in large part, to get across important messages about world and national issues. Here’s the latest episode, which I hope you’ll take the time to watch, as it is well worth it:

It is clear to me that the GOP is promoting solidarity for LGBT rights, using the threat of Muslim terrorism’s virulent homophobia to scare the gay vote away from Hillary and into their own tent. Which is why I posted the following blog entry in late July:

https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2016/07/22/the-new-gop-meme/

Since the Republican Party is owned lock, stock and barrel by Christian fundamentalists who adamantly oppose homosexuals as worse than rapists and murderers, the GOP will, of course, move with sudden force to overturn every single law protecting sexual minorities, and openly persecute them. For it is their biblical mandate to wreak terror and death upon LGBTs, or they themselves shall not enter heaven, but burn in everlasting hell.

Now, considering the Buddha’s statement that “we have no enemies, only teachers,” what purpose, then, does Donald Trump serve in the grand scheme of things? Perhaps in breaking the spirit of multitudes, as happened to Europe in WWII, we will finally reach out to each other as brothers and sisters in solidarity, to form a better nation truly living up to the ideals of the Bill of Rights. And if this is true, guess whom we have to thank?

Reporting from the front lines here in the Castro,

Zeke Krahlin, Jehovah’s Queer Witness


The Calls from County Jail

October 23, 2016

A true tale that I first posted on Reddit, in a forum asking “In the spirit of Halloween – Paranormal or not, what is the scariest, creepiest or most unsettling experience of your life?“)

Scariest experience (or at least one of my scariest) is going on right now. For the last two days when I come home, there are a bunch of messages on my answering machine from the same person, a collect call request from county jail. (BTW, this is a land line, I do not own a cell.) It goes something like this:

“Hello, this is a collect call from county jail, from…[then his voice, kinda raspy and deep: ‘Marco Espinosa’]…if you want to accept this call, press 1, if you don’t want to accept this call, hang up or press 2.”

The recording continues to explain various rules about collect calls from country jail, it just goes on for an insufferable amount of time, says something about if you’re a lawyer and do not want to have your call recorded, call this number [gives a 10 digit #], then rattles on about other stuff, including the option to press number 7 to block any more calls from county jail.

Of course, since these are messages already on my answering machine, picking up the phone to press 7 will get me nowhere. I don’t recognize the name, nor would I ever accept a collect call from county jail. I only have gotten such a call twice before, around eight and twelve years ago, and do not appreciate this new one at all. (One from a homeless person who did have my phone number, but I never told him to call me from jail, another was a wrong number, probably.) Very unnerving, especially since he’s been calling two times per day, and once late at night: 7:30 AM, 6:30 PM and 1:30 AM, respectively (and those are just rough estimates, he didn’t or doesn’t call right on the half hour).

The answering machine uses a chip to record, and is klutzy, in that you have to listen through the first 10 seconds of each message before you can skip to the next one (rather than hear it all the way through), or you’ll have to listen to them all over again–if even one of those messages was not played for at least 10 seconds–before you can press the “erase all messages” button. I have decided that, next time (though I hope there are no more next times), just to unplug the answering machine and plug it back in again which will delete all messages by default. Though since it doesn’t even come with a battery socket, I’ll have to reset the day, hour and minute each and every time. But I just won’t bother.

I hardly ever receive any phone calls (I have Lifeline service BTW, living on social security and no other income), but my brother from Long Island has been calling me now and then. Which means I’ll have to listen to each message, in case one is his. But I decide not to do that, it would be just too nerve-wracking. It’s times like these I wish my brother would use email to reach me…which I’ve suggested in the past, but he’s averse to Internet stuff. 70 years old, retired cop, a great man but set in his ways. His wife is very ill these days, and I feel for him. My own low income may force me to finally depart from my crummy SRO, due to gentrification or eviction ’cause the landlord’s getting out of the business, or (God forbid) fire. And I don’t even know if I can return to our family home–a humble ranch house built up a bit by my brother–after all these decades. For I am the black sheep, the weirdo, the one that everyone scapegoats whenever someone’s in a bad mood. I’d return a failure, nothing to show of my life victories in their Republican eyes.

I wouldn’t want to go back, anyway, as I’d then become absorbed by the Borg of hetero family values and become the stereotypcial gay uncle dedicated to enhancing the lives of his straight relatives, walking dogs, cleaning house, shoveling snow, planning parties, housesitting, babysitting and so forth. No more gay activism for this sorry soul stuck in a bland suburban region w/o a car or driver’s license. My only fulfilling outlet would be on the Internet. There are also the ungodly, hot and humid summers that would sap my spirit for almost six months each annum…and due to climate change, Long Island can only expect killer heat waves increasing each year, and more prolonged. Oh I’d be miserable! I would much prefer the icy winter all year long.

Then what if my brother poops out on me, and I am left stranded, no other relations caring enough to take me in? His second daughter is married into El Salvadorean people who are also Christian Evangelists. I can’t bear to go to anyone’s funeral, going to my brother’s is out of the question! What would they think of me, on top of everything else?

I have been in the habit these past 15 years or so of keeping my phone ringer turned to “off,” and my answering machine volume all the way down to “zero.” This is because, as a gay street activist, I have met numerous men down on their luck, some of whom turn out to be kinda disturbed and possibly dangerous, and others who are really nice dudes, but don’t seem to respect my request to not press my apartment building’s buzzer before 8 PM or after 11 PM. (Buzzer is connected to the phone.)

But even though I’ve had this same number since 1983, I get a wrong number once in a blue moon, and they can be pretty weird. Some from a stranger or messed up crazy just pressing buttons to try to get inside (I live on a very busy, main street, lots of foot traffic including bums.) So because of this, I keep the ringer and volume off, and just check the LED indicator on my answering machine to see if I got any calls, every hour or so. Which is frustrating, because I have four good friends whom I see a lot less, due to these strange calls that always start to occur whenever I decide that it’s okay now, to turn my ringer and answering machine volume back on. And you got it:

A good buddy I haven’t seen in more than a year, was back in town…I know because Donnie (that’s his name) buzzed me six days ago, and left a message. Two days later I decided that since no weird messages have been left on my answering machine for more than four months, it would be fine to put the ringer and volume back on. And that is when these county jail messages commenced, just two more days later! I really don’t want to miss out on seeing Donnie, he’s very sweet and good company…but I decided to go back to keeping all phone noises silent. Otherwise I’d have to be awakened every night from Marco Espinosa’s intruding run of unwelcome messages.

So for the past two mornings I don’t even bother to listen to the 20 or so messages left on my machine from the previous day and night…I just press the “listen to messages” button and let them all play through w/o hearing any of them. Once played through, I then hit the “delete all messages” button. What a hassle! That is why I finally decided that, starting today, I’ll just do the unplug/plug-back-in thingie, and be done with it. Not knowing if one or more of those calls was from Donnie or my brother, or perhaps from another person I like, and who is not an asshole.

Don’t know how this “Marco” got my number, it’s unlisted…though it may be one of those wrong calls that AT&T tosses in my direction, now and then. Perhaps he’s pressing “0” which is part of my number, instead of pressing “o”, or some other finger slip. But leaving a slew of attempted calls within the short span of 10 minutes suggests a desperate and pushy sort of personality…that’s not good. Why doesn’t he just call me once, for each of those three times per day, if he is a nice person? I also wonder:

What does he want…money? A place to crash or hide out? I am a poor person, thus not capable of providing him any help in any way, shape or form. I couldn’t even give him legal counsel or references, as I am largely alone in this world. Now elderly at 66, I realize I am prone towards ex-convict types who are known to seek out elderly queers to hole up and take advantage of. The last thing I need is some desperate bully robbing me of both sleep and finances…as well as winding up getting me evicted and even, possibly, arrested myself! Ah, the Castro, I am so sick of putting up with this crappy neighborhood, though I have accomplished much good over the decades. Enough is enough, leave me to my lonely pursuits, please. My days of street activism are long over.

Does he actually know who I am, through a mutual associate? Or has one of my enemies been handing out my number to troubled people in order to harass me? (This has happened before, though many years ago.) Is he gonna get angry at me for not picking up that phone, and track me down when he gets out? Where I live is very easy for anyone to find out, as I have occupied this edifice since 1983, my two windows face the main street, the building is not very secure, thus easy for anyone to slip in and out, especially since frequent building and service contractors leave the front gate ajar, for their convenience, often for an hour or more…and I am kind of notorious. And I do have enemies because of my decades of homeless outreach which sometimes involves confrontations with homophobes and other sorts of disturbed denizens who don’t like to see me on the streets at night, ’cause they like to think it’s their turf, even though they’ve only showed up a year or two ago, and I’ve been here since the Bronze Age.

Early this morning, BTW, around 6 AM, for some reason the ans. machine volume was turned up a couple notches and I heard Marco’s call again. So I picked up the phone and heard the recorded voice…but I already knew to press 7 to cancel any further calls. So I pressed 7, yet the recorded voice went on as if nothing happened, didn’t say anything like “Okay you pressed 7, you will receive no more calls from county jail.” Does this mean I must first wait as she drones on and on until she comes around to the “press 7” spiel before this will work? Am I cursed to have to put up with his message batches for God knows how long, that are blocking me from anyone who matters, reaching me?

Jeez, what a nightmare. And it’s still going on, AFAIK. Thank you for listening.


UPDATE 10/23/2016:

[–]keokutah – 2 points 15 hours ago:

I think all your questions could be answered if you just answered the phone and asked him what he wants. He’s in jail so it’s not like he can do anything to hurt you, and the calls are recorded so if he does threaten you they would know. And if you do feel like you are in danger, you can let the police know. Maybe it’s someone you know but the prison forces him to use his real name, and you know him by a false name?

[–]i-luv-ducks – 1 point 24 minutes ago:

I’d rather not, but thanks. Police can do very little, even if he threatens me. Picking up that phone can open up a can of worms that I’ll regret. So last night I was up when he began another string of calls…I held the receiver up to my ear until the recorded voice told me to press 7 to ban all calls from county jail. Then I pressed 7. Then the voice told me to punch in a 4 digit code, so that I could cancel the block in a future time, if I so wanted. Did that too.

A wave of relief swept over me, knowing that I’ll never be bothered again by such calls. But that relief was cut short, as his calls resumed a couple of hours later! This morning I arose to find six more identical messages on my answering machine, so I guess that “7” option is useless. So much for peace of mind. I know what to expect when I return home this evening. Happy Halloween. :(


UPDATE 10/24/2016:

Unplugging/replugging the answering machine does not remove all messages, just the date and time settings…how infuriating! So now I just turned off the answering machine and unplugged the telephone. After a week of remaining disconnected, I will resume phone and answering machine activity, to see if this “curse” has been lifted.

Donnie, where are you!


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