>>> THIS JUST IN: Harvard University called today to see if I was safe, etc. . .
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Where do I start???
Last night I was attacked by all the nice white people on my street -- the drug dealers and those who are afraid of them.While carrying goods to my (now) former business partner's back yard for temporary storage of a couple of things (I've been evicted by landlord Ken Jernigan, and had promised to be out by end of yesterday), the shorter gay guy in the mulberry house next door to my shorgun-dupolex apartment, 111 South 8th Street, Apt. A, Wilmington 29801 -- the one I had first thought was speed-dating-for dollars all day long while his UNCW professor partner was at work, but turned out to be selling drugs (the boys that kept coming and going were a bit fast -- even for 17-year-olds, which they tended to be older than), told me I was "not allowed" to store things there. I told him My (then ) business partner who had bought 10% of all royalties to my Tennessee Williams memoir, http://www.amazon.com/WALKING-GLASS-TENNESSEE-WILLIAMS-ebook/dp/B0053480S2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1309208590&sr=8-1 , had, with his two other UNCW student roommates, the lease, but this guy insisted he could get me disallowed.
Next thing I knew, Leroy Alford of 105 South 8th Street, a very kind man, was caused to freak out and wave his gulf club in my face and demand that I go into my house and shut up. Leroy has often encouraged me in my fight against the neighborhood mobsters, but I know fear when I see it, and he was afraid George Radezanin of 106 South 8th Street would again harm one of his loved ones.
I, of course, always thrust the stick more deeply and vigorously into the hornets nest when danger is upon me -- just to see what I can tempt out of its hole (in this case, George, who owns Hand Painted Homes, a business that some years ago actually painted houses and had a great reputation). Now George only pretends to do estimates -- how he goes out to deliver his drugs. George no longer has a website -- who needs to waste the money when your business only launders drug money -- but I found his "current" graphic designer: http://www.kernandink.com/about-when.php -- talk about yer "dinks."
Anyway, George ran across the street furious and screaming at me that I was an asshole and he was going to teach me a lesson. He ran up and chased me into my own yard -- (from the sidewalk in front of my house). He began kicking me and yelled that he was goin gto murder me. His wife ran out after him and tried to calm him down, but like a meth addict (I'd always assumed he was only a crack addict and seller -- but what did I know???), he was out-of-control ballistic and continued kicking me and threatening me with his fists.
I tried to retreat to my porch, but he even followed me there, and in a moment's break in his kicking (but NOT his screaming threats that he would murder me), I broke away, got into the already unlocked house, and stayed behind the bolted door. Once her retreated into the street I called the cops -- as did Leroy, who I could hear telling them the opposite of my own story -- that I had attacked THEM!!!
There were about ta dozen neighbors soon in the street, and Leroy and George -- joined by the "speed-dating" gay guy, ran up to all and told them what to tell the cops. ALL joined in and began yelling at me that they had been there and witnessed what THEY HAD NOT SEEN!!!
The cop who arrived calmed things down and patronized me (or not -- I simply soon learned not to trust Wilmington Police AT ALL!!!) with my stories of my Kenan relatives, the troubles I'd had, etc. Actually, a total of four cars finally arrived, but as soon as they left, George began parading on the sidewalk across the street, waving his middle finger at me and making faces like a five-year-old. Then he crossed the street, and paraded past my house smoking a joint. I reported to later police it was a rolled cigarette, but he'd had no time to roll one and he and his wife are far from poor. His point: HE OWNED THE POLICE!!!
A handsome, well dressed thug arrived at the gay guy's house, and they both approached my porch as I left my Public Defender, Emily Zvejnieks a voicemail, detailing what had happened. I wanted a record made with someone in justice. The thug had a threatening presence (clenched fists, forward leaning, continuing to approach -- walking on the grass at MY addrsss toward me). I went inside and called the police again. They came, but without my giving a full description and there now being about 15 neighbors out front, I was shocked that the cop went to the EXACT right guy (an enforcer???) fist bumped him a couple of times, and then they had a laughing conversation which they seemed intent on me seeing so I'd be intimidated. The cop left without contacting me after about 15 minutes.
The nieghbors including all the above named people (except Leroy) remained on the porch across the street, one house south of George's. The grade school teacher who lives there yelled out (normally, I can't even hear if people on that porch are speaking, but all what I now report was yelled toward me loud and clear), "I'm off tomorrow, and we should have a party to watch him be evicted!!! Two other people said they were off work too (I ASSUME they meant "off work"), and would join in the fun of watching people pick over my goods.
I called the police, was told a seargent would show up in about 5-10 minutes, but no one did. About 2 - 2.5 hours later, a female sargeant clled to make excuses and then told me basically I was ridiculous. I got tired of that, talked over her, told her not to erase that tape, and that I hoped we were on the same side of the law. I went to bed.
Meanwhile, Ben Wickham had been calling and texting demands that I immediately (later changed to by noon today, then tonight) remove my belongings. He admitted that he and the leaseholders had the right to let me keep things there, but said they had been forced to do this -- then later changed that to they just decided to do it. Tocay, I told him to wait and let the Feds remove my things (some evidence is stored there), and that since He weas such an ass, I was canceling our contract for his ownership of part of my book's royalties(only -- no copyright ownership), and he could sue me if he didn't like that. He had never even given me a second copy of the contract for us both to sign, so I do not believe the contract is binding, anyway.
This morning, I ran into District Attorney Benjamin David in a coffee shop on Front Street as I was going to the Federal Building to check in with the DEA. We were both pleasant, and he admitted he was unable to sue me for libel. He claimed I'm mentally ill and he hopes I get better. I told him I had an appointment to speak to the agents at Drug Enforcement Agency. He turned pale as a ghost, Iwished him a nice day, and then departed -- nicely.
I debriefed the several drug agents, whose eyes seemed to nearly pop their heads. Was fun telling about nthe swastikas and my mother's Nazi involvements and ties to the Catholic Church, Republican Party, etc. (much mor earlier in this blog).
I will not go back to get my things, and hope landlord Jernigan has not thrown them all out of the house. I don't need to be killed, which is what several of those white-assed "respectable" drug dealers promised to do. I hope to go back tomorrow with protection (officers, not weapons).
Tonight, I will find some place to stay. I had to spend all my money for two nights in hotel on cell minutes and other necessities.
Stay tuned . . .
BTW: George broke the skin and raised some welts, but I'm fine. I expect to file charges tomorrow (although with all the scred neighbors, I have no idea who will back up my story -- but someone will. I heard Leroy Alford has privately told law enforcement the truth already.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
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