Dear Sinead,
Attached please find a scan of my filled out form. I had hoped to deliver it in person, but I have no money to put gas in my car this morning, and no one stateside to whom I've appealed directly or indirectly has found reason to send me a dime. My brother, Michael, wrote at some length yesterday, giving all manner of reasons why he should not throw his money away on my basic needs of living. So be it.
I do quite fine, actually, living by my wits, but I thought I might get a little help and in the anticipation (which he deliberately dragged out to further complicate my situation), I did none of the things that would have raised five bucks for gas to Nuevo Vallarta and back. I'll drop it off Monday -- or at least that will be my goal, and one I'll not pin to expectations that I have any friends or relatives in the USA who give a single shit about me whatsoever (Steve Poynter, Jim Richardson, Allean Hale, Kenneth Holditch, and Gregory Mosher are excepted for various reasons. They are the only ones who have variously given an important bit of support -- two of them not in a monetary way.)
I haven't heard from my landlord yet. He's way behind on everything he's promised -- except handing me keys and taking the first half of the rent/deposit. I guess that sets a precedent for how timely I need to be on the rent. I don't even have a contract, but I do believe that even in Mexico, possession is 9/10 the law! If not, I'll go kicking and screaming -- a particular specialty of mine.
Anyway, as I've mentioned before, I have boxes here in Mexico of documents regarding the incidents in 1978, 1990, and of this past year, when people whose interests are diametrically opposed to mine have attempted to at least medicate me, if not commit, imprison, kidnap, murder, POISON, delay, distract, etc. me so that I cannot complete my mission, which is simply to tell people the truth as I see it. This morning, digging through documents, I found many shocking things I had forgotten, and confirmation that no matter what condition I was allegedly in at the time, I was, even then, an incredibly good writer!!!
In 1990, Fay(e) Gold of Fay(e) Gold Gallery in Atlanta, GA, as well as Bernice Weinstein of Amaryllis (a small boutique in Stone Mountain Viliage at the time), confirmed to me ABSOLUTELY that my parents are indeed top Nazis. I was only acquainted with Ms. Gold and her art gallery. I knew Bernice and her husband quite well, and they had entertained me in their home, I believe, in the Smoke Rise section of greater Stone Mountain. I remember most fondly how ironic (ironical, in NJ) I found it that they, Jews, had a gorgeous somewhat deteriorated with age crucifix in their living room that dated from the Middle Ages.
Others had confirmed this to me too back then, and I'm frankly shocked that I had forgotten this, although I knew I KNEW my parents were Nazis from other testimony, rather than just from my astute observations.
I came across a lot of old documents from my leaving Cape May in 1978, as well. (And I have another whole briefcase stuffed with documents that I haven't begun to look at.) In my agreement with my former partners, Charles Octavius Pritchard and Hilary Ann Russell of Whale's Tale when we parted ways and they bought my shares in the corporation, part of the agreement was that I would be able to buy anything sold at Whate's Tale at wholesale for life.
Since that time, Hilary has made a big deal of giving me very nice, but not wholesale discounts. I have put up with this indignity because at those times, I could afford to, and I saw no reason to get anyone or everyone into a tizzie about it. So far, I have not located the papers, but I do have another bunch to peruse, AND I found reference to the fact that while I was held in the Dekalb County Jail in 1990 by Judge Linda Warren Hunter (who had a number of private conferences with my father, or so my mother's notes in her own hand indicate -- I believe this is illegal) my parents destroyed many of my past financial records. So my notes indicate.
I have not yet found any evidence that I have ever misrepresented facts, although I have often misinterpreted them. I try to correct them when I can. I don't know if Hilary simply forgot, or if she knew my parents had destroyed these records. I am not totally certain if this benefit was part of the legal document of sale of stock, or if it was another, separate paper. But I DO know that all three of us (including Chuck) signed it. Also, I'm not totally certain if we had already swapped our corporate stock in William Earl Johnson Jr.'s Boca Raton water slide for his in Whale's Tale or not, so there might be a forth party to everything, Bill.
I won't go into Bill's connection to the Irish Mafia of South Philly and then Wildwood Crest, NJ at this time, but I could if asked.
Additionally, I found much more information on Rick Niva, who had been my roommate in Stone Mtn. in 1990. The biggest bafflement had been that when I called MCI (who was then my long distance carrier) to make a change, on TWO separate occasions, they told me my phone number had been secured by an American Express card in the name of Rick Niva, and what made it even odder, was that they insisted that he had done this at about the time I moved into the house. I did not even MEET Rick Niva until several months later, after the roommate who moved with me from my apartment on Carpenter Dr. in Sandy Springs moved out.
It was in conversation with Edith Love (Denison university 1972), who was then Managing Director of the Alliance Theatre in Atlanta, and had recently returned from a tour of the then Soviet Union with the play DRIVING MISS DAISY, which she had been instrumental in developing, that I noticed the name of the River Neva in St. Peterburg, and somehow immediately intuited that Rick Niva had something to do with a Russian connection. Edith, understandably upset with my peculiar reaction, called my paernts, with the chief result being that gradually, she seems to have become over the years less predominant (although still of great skill and accomplishment) in the field of theater.) Other talented friends of mine have virtually disappeared (James Culver Anderson DU 1974 who was shot on the street in Manhattan, and then ran off with his wife, Vickie Gilmore DU 1974 to Florida and was never heard of again. Michael Fauss, many times proven to be of the highest talent in musical theater, has NOT had the success he deserves.)
Anyway, I have in my possession, a letter to Sen. Lugar from 1990, in which I spell out details including Rick's alleged mother's phone number and the name of his father's company and contact info, at least some of which was in Sen. Lugar's jurisdiction. I never received a reply, that I'm aware of. Damn those Republicans!!!!!
Many of my troubles are simply men not wanting to face the truth about their sexuality or women not wanting to lose their men when their men wake up. I am hoping that the recent self-outing of the always-known-to-be-gay Mr. Mehlman of the Republican Party, that these sexual things will FINALLY be forced into the open and dealt with. Here in Mexico, they've long ago worked things out and every one here is happy and sexually active, and loving, and kind, and RIGHT WITH GOD.
I hope to see you Monday, and I thank you and all the hardworking employees of the United States Government for your help and support. I will get this off now, and later, re-find the sheet with all the other info on Rick Niva and other things, and pass this info on ASAP as well.
For the record: I have NOTHING to hide (including my errors) so please know that you should use your own discernment on what to disclose to anyone about me. I consider myself entirely an open book to everyone.
Forgive me for not proofing this. I want to get it out before you leave the office. I will also post it on my blog.
Bet regards,
Scott D. Kenan
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