Pictured: Jorge Soler on his deck after feeding me inedible food, but before he got drunk the other night.
5/27/10 CORRECTION: When I wrote this, I was already fully aware that police departments in most American communities do not serve law or justice. They serve power. That is the human way, and because the Stone Mountain City Police Department has rarely listened to and never acted as if they believed my side of ANY story, both recently and in 1990 when I prematurely tried to break up this same drug importation ring in its earlier, simpler form, I decided to show them what I would do if they continued to fuck with me.
Sgt. Nunn was handy, and given his intelligence, knowledge of the law, and determination to serve power, he proved his practical skills in a psychologically tough environment. I got him good, but not fairly. I have absolutely no knowledge of any sexual activities, fantasies, or allegations by or about Sgt. Nunn. That said, I do NOT retract my comments about his being hot.
Having learned he has a wife and she got a touch upset, I retract my comments publicly with apologies, but not embarrassment. I don't think the sergeant was embarrassed himself, and he probably enjoyed the public compliment. Other than his concern about his wife's reaction, he seems to have a great sense of humor about it, which is not to say anything other than he enjoys a good power play. I have no reason whatsoever to believe he has ever had a sexual interest in men, although the reverse is not true.
I see a promotion or three in his future.
Scott
I do have to wonder. . . .
Subject: Regarding our Fairy Tale town
From: Scott D Kenan
Date: May 26, 2010 11:12:35 AM EDT
To: mnorrington@stonemountainpd.org, khughes@stonemountaincity.org
Bcc: Nan Nash
OK, so I'm a fairy. Still, I have a great and true tale to tell, and most of you know exactly what I'm talking about, although most of you are now stuck with your pants around your ankles waiting for higher law enforcement to come and give you your due. Even white people from "old families" have come out of the woodwork to tell me over the last few days that EVERYONE knows about the drug trade here, who is involved, and they also report that they have been told to move out of town, but some have resisted. This is their (our) town.
Nominally, this is going to the detectives, and I did leave Mr. Norrington a voice message this morning, after Sgt. Nunn tried to prevent me from doing that. Eventually, I convinced him it would not be in his interests to prevent this. He had already proven he was allied with Jorge Soler, a Columbian drug lord who bought the blue house on Mountain St. a few lots east of the Post Office and on the other side of the street. I had gotten Jorge and his wife Aida drunk several nights ago, and Jorge had admitted his real business to me then. He pretends to be a chef whose back went bad, but the dinner he prepared that night was nearly inedible, the cut of "deluxe" beef, which he prepared like steak, was a cut usually used in pot roast by people who don't appreciate the greater tenderness and flavor of chuck.
I'll spare you Sgt. Nunn's involvement with Mr. Soler, when they, with Aida, arrived at my house yesterday, and without listening to my side of the story, Sgt. Nunn demanded I take certain actions or he would arrest me on the spot. The previous day, when the Solers visited me at home and I reminded Jorge what he had admitted while drunk about being a Columbian drug lord, he screamed and yelled at me, ran into my backyard and threw pieces of a concrete fountain I have trouble lifting, all about (despite his alleged bad back). I ordered him off the property, and when he refused, I told him I'd call the Stone Mountain Police. He replied, "You call the Stone Mountain Police -- he emphasized the town's name -- and I'll have them come over and kill you."
Well, that hasn't exactly worked out, but this morning, my house was being surveilled by thugs in cars. One had slowed going south, turned around, and then stopped in front of my house, but drove on when I walked out and got the license number: 163 5CC, a white, maybe ten-year-old 2-door sports car. Like a "Z" car in appearance.
All that said, I have noticed that not only when Sgt. Nunn (led the first attempt to commit me, immediately after Patrick Stansbury of Pentagon Publishing, Inc. in Snellville fired me and said suicide would be my only way out (about 1/17/10), but again yesterday, he looks at me like he'd love to suck my cock. I'm sorry to be crude, but I also admit that as white cops go, he is hot as hell! But I'm engaged, so have dropped the temptation to meet up with him when he's off duty. But I will say this: My "gaydar" is almost never wrong. I bet Sgt. Nunn got caught in sexual mischief with men and was blackmailed into working for the drug people. I always try to free my own kind, especially when they are so hot.
Also, Anthony Siegel, cell: XXX-XXX-XXXX, who lives in the trailer of the Gables Academy property in town, has been helping me the last several weeks with yard sale, sorting and packing stuff. He's the current spy in my house, and reports to the owners of Gables Academy property (I forget their names) who live on the corner of VFW and Mountain, right across from their boss, the Solers (almost). But Anthony is amusing. An old hippy of my age (58) he tells good stories of his childhood and being spoiled by his father who was a major developer in Miami in the 50s, 60s. Supposedly, he hung with the Brat Pack and often played poker with Henny Youngman and Jack Benny. Similar types of people to those I knew when I worked for Tennessee Williams. Currently, he is claiming to be taking care of sick animals owned by the same property owners. In other words, they are all pow-wowing somewhere, trying to decide what the hell to do with me next! LOL.
I doubt I will come to any harm, despite the City Police Department working for Mr. Soler. A Dekalb Deputy came to my house on trumped up excuse this morning. They know the pressure I'm under, and meet with me to reassure me that they and others started investigating this town before I first spoke up, and to get the latest reports from me of what I've uncovered.
I laugh my ass off imagining the money my second book which will detail all of my recent troubles (my blog is its first draft: scottkenan.blogspot.com ) will make as well as my Tennessee Williams memoir www.walkingonglass.net . Can't wait to get to Mexico. Last night I confronted my "intended" there as I know he actually has been working for my enemies. I have known that all along. But we fell in love regardless, and as I've mentioned before, I do try to free those of my kind who have been compromised and would like to know love.
Thanks for listening,
Scott D. Kenan
You know where I am.
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