Saturday, June 30, 2018

Thursday, May 24, 2018


I could never have afforded to give so much to so few, if so few had not stolen so much from me.

I just gave a butt-tonne of money to someone I don't even know, and will probably never meet. And it feels good.

I do this in the same spirit of generosity that led directly to my departure from Gothic. Let us hope, this time, I can avoid prosecution. 

For those of you who've not been amused by the tale... I left Gothic in a panic state more profound, and painful than I can ever adequately express. I was a drowning man in a land of the deaf and blind. Everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone turned a deaf ear, and a blind eye toward me. And I think they were instructed to do so. 

I don't fear bears, or monsters in the dark. I fear puritans. Puritans will burn you alive in broad daylight, and none of them will come to your aid lest they also be marked. My exit from Gothic was a devastating, permanently scaring, horrible experience. I left because I could no longer endure the constant, brutal antagonism and harassment of a seasonal roustabout, and criminal sociopath named Ira Jackson, a person to whom I graciously gave part of my home and job. And from whom I received nothing but pain in return because faggots are worse. For the record, Ira acted against me knowing he was under the complete protection of Executive Director Ian Billick. 

It is ironic that the only named person for whom the action contained in the above letter is taken, is the very same person who gleefully reported back to me that Ira had finally been shit-canned from the lab for exactly the reasons I predicted. And yet I heard nothing of this from anyone... officially.

Shayn Estes, despite my being in no mood to hear it at the time, you at least tried to make amends. Please know that I appreciate it. Maybe we don't have to be strangers.

Ian could have fired me at any time for any reason, or no reason at all. That was his right. That's what 'at will' employment means. 

But what he could not do was to sick his pit bull on me until I ran for my life. That is illegal. Being harassed until one is compelled to leave one's job is illegal, no matter any offense. That's the law. At the very least it is unjust, unfair, wrong, immoral, awful and unbefitting the dignity of the lab.

Ian Billick, I deserve an open apology from the lab and from you personally. Putting aside common decency, I deserve this because I have paid for it... I gave a thousand dollars to the lab last year, and seven thousand this year. How much does it take to convince you of my sincerity? How much does it take to convince any of you? Give me a whole dollar amount... I'll pay it. What does it take to persuade you people that I am one of you; and conversely, that Ira Jackson, the person you, Ian Billick, specifically favored, is not? 

Someday Ian Billick and Ira Jackson will be little more than ancillary footnotes printed at the bottom of the page in the life of the lab. And so will I. 

I am pointedly not giving money to anyone in my past. I give it to an as yet unknown person in the future. 

But the past is still doing the choosing. 

Fine. Pick a good one. 

Monday, January 1, 2018


I thought the winter people might like to try out a new kind of axe. I hope it works well.