It is better to be an outcast, a stranger in one’s own country, than an outcast from one’s self. It is better to see what is about to befall us and to resist than to retreat into the fantasies embraced by a nation of the blind.
Chris Hedges

Friday, November 02, 2007


What the hell can I say about her. I met her during Caribana. We looked at each other and it was all locked in. I was married at the time to someone else whom divorced me. Unfortunately, the papers were served when Robin was there.
She thought we ought to go out one night. But when we got there everyone I knew was present. She bought the rings, signed the marriage certificate and arranged for my best man. Darn. The next day we were married, it is all kind of a blur.
One day she picked me up from work where I was making oak stairs for 9 bucks an hour. She was attending a local college, completing a diploma in Paralegal. Well, she got in the car. I got in the car. And she placed this big Glad Bag full of money beside me. There was $5,000 dollars of mixed denominations there. That's when I found out what she was really doing.
Well, that wasn't my life and I left. I was tutored by a couple of missionary sisters and it filled a huge hole in my life. Three months later my wife called me to say she had obtained a higher understanding...the same church. So, I went up there and about four weeks into the process she was arrested. The cop was a guy in a fur hat and he asked me if I knew anything about my wife. It turned out I knew nothing.

Months later, angry, but still going to church... in a different city, she dropped in and gave this arrousing testimony to my greatness. I bought it. She enticed me to come with her to a hotel room in the middle of nowhere. When I got there something was not right. There was a can of coke on the sideboard and a chocholate bar wrapper. Not things she would normally consume. "This is the wrong room", I said. I went home.

At six thirty that same night two homicide detectives dropped by, I was alone because it was a fireside and I didn't go. After lots of questions about who I knew and didn't know I said to them, "what has she done now?" Well, it turned out she had met this fella who liked to kill people. They assured me they were aware of everything and that I was being watched. So, my wife set me up for a hit... the boyfriend was in the bathroom of the motel room. Two people died. One was a landlady and the other a prospector; both shot in the head.

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