Communique 8-26-2020 "Welcome To The Grandeur of Delusion Illusion"
By Philip Drucker
When I was a practicing lawyer, I had the opportunity to meet many liars. Some talented, exceptional even. Some, not so much. I did not practice Criminal Law. I didn’t like it. Too many criminals. Earlier in my career I did work in a few offices that occasionally did take on the odd criminal matter or two. Most of these cases were relatively low risk, drug addicts and prostitutes mostly. Sometimes both at the same time.
I still remember the day when let’s call her Suzie walked into my office for her free consultation. Her story involved a drug deal gone bad. Or, more accurately a case of fraud involving oregano that went south. Not the oregano, it was fine. It just wasn’t what she wanted which of course was pot. I listened intently as Suzie gave me a detailed description of the events leading up to and that took place during the transaction.
I asked my potential client if she had any idea as to the identity of the rat-bag thieving magpie who so callously took her hard-earned $35.00 and left her holding the bag, of oregano, that is. I was surprised when Suzie informed me not only did she know the bastard’s name, she had his telephone number and knew where he lived. As it turns out she had done business with let’s call him Frank, on several occasions. This was the first time she had any trouble buying his products unlike in the past.
Frank had a connection to some primo stuff out of Hawaii, and he was her “go-to” guy. If memory serves correct she called it Maui Wowie. Not to be confused with Yukon Gold or Panama Red and certainly not with Brown Sugar which on top of being a great Stones song, I learned was a code name for heroin. As it turned out, Suzie was not a fan, of heroin that is. She liked the Rolling Stones and by the way she talked about Mick and Co. probably even better than the Beatles. But I don’t know that for sure. Just got a feeling deep inside, oh yeah.
I asked her if there were any other facts she may have inadvertently left out. Anything that made this time different? Suzie sort of looked down at her high-heeled shoes for a moment and said, “Well, he did ask me if I wanted to go out on a date sometime.” It seemed not only did Suzie have a prior business relationship with Frank, she met him in elementary school and went to the same middle and high school and she always kind of knew he had a “thing” for her. As romantic as the lifelong friends, now drug dealer and customer story might have been, it was not to be. She said no. Then came the oregano. He must have come prepared for the rejection. He must have known it was a possibility but he asked anyway. I wonder how much oregano he smoked to work up the courage.
With her now fully finished love is a drug story complete and after a short dissertation on why “Exile on Main Street” is, was, and would always be the best Stones LP ever, the time to decide was upon me. Client? Or not to client? That was the question. She seemed pleasant enough. She wasn’t stoned now. Both good signs. But, there was a problem, a tactical and legal problem with her case. It may sound a bit odd, but I had to ask, what did she want me to do?
Suzie looked at me with one of those “seriously?” looks you give someone who you suddenly realize may not have been quite the right person to ask for assistance. And then she hit me, figuratively, not literally. She wanted me to sue Frank in court for fraud, and get this, breach of an oral contract (I didn’t ask) in a two-pronged attack to get her money back and/or deliver on the agreement, with a little sumpthin’ sumpthin’ thrown in for her extra strength pain and suffering.
It was now my turn for the “look”. This was the year 2000, the one after 1999 and I understand most persons believed that their right to party like it was 1999, in 1999 included the right to smoke all the weed their little hearts and somewhat stilted lungs could handle. This was not so. Cannabis was an illegal drug at both the state and federal level.
Calmly, I informed Suzie that in my legal opinion, it would not be wise to go into open court in front of a judge and admit you tried to 1. Buy a controlled substance thereby implicating yourself as part of an illegal narcotics transaction and 2. Recover damages for the “breaching” party’s failure to perform an illegal contract, for which, there is no breach, or damages, or recovery. In short, you cannot make a contract for an illegal purpose. I left it at that. Next contestant, thank you for playing.
I could tell from the puzzled look in her eyes she didn’t believe me. After a brief but awkward enough pause, Suzie got up and excused herself. As she headed toward the door she said over her shoulder “Have a nice day.” She didn’t mean it. I’m psychic that way.
My dalliance with criminal law lasted for a few, maybe six at most months. Along the way, I did meet some interesting characters, most of whom had undoubtedly done something bad, but in fact were not bad people. During this time, I also met my first child molester and my first murderer, at least that I know of. Strangely, the Chomo was not a very good liar.
The only concern I ever saw displayed was for how long the sentence would be and did I know any lawyer tricks to help shorten it. As I was not “first chair” on this case, I requested a “transfer” and was summarily fired. Seems I didn’t have the right stuff, you know, “what it takes.” Worked for me then. Still does, always will.
It wasn’t too long thereafter until murderer #1 showed up. I won’t go into too many details here. I only met this person once. It was in a controlled environment so I was not in any immediate danger, not the physical kind anyway. I’ll never forget the stare. The total, I really don’t care who you are but if you can do something for me, and if I can get you to do it, that is all I want to know. It was as if I was a human get out of jail card, a saw baked into a cake. A key to the cage if possible. At best a tool, at worst a prop, nothing more and nothing less. It’s a look and a feeling you never quite forget.
Today, for the reason above and so many incidents more, it is shall we say, difficult to fool me. It’s not that I can’t be deceived through lies, imagery, false information and outright deception, but it is hard to fool this mother’s suspicious nature. Which brings me to ask, did anyone watch Melania’s RNC speech last night? I did and I found parts of it deeply disturbing.
Let me make a few points of reference starting with what Melania is not. In my opinion, she is not a good person. She is not a kind or caring person. She has very little time for or use for the truth. If real facts are of value to her, she will use them. If not, she will discard them with little to no thought in favor of alternative facts or perhaps even outright bold-faced fallacies that further her agenda. Her agenda? It’s to convey whatever image to you she thinks puts her, and after last night, her legacy (I imagine she thinks Herr Trump is going to lose) in the best possible light. Even if this image is built on falsehoods and half-truths delivered with a smile. I didn’t see her blink once, did you?
Who brags about writing their own speech without any help, without even a second set of eyes for content or editing and then fills it with questionable verities and outright balderdash? Blatant at times at that. Who crows about writing and giving a speech that begins with a “you don’t know me” tag line and then proceeds to fill-in the blanks with nothing but self-serving stories that belie the reality we all know is going on within the White House? Who congratulates themselves on meeting and greeting children in Africa when due to the cruel and inhuman policies of her sociopath for a husband, children sit in cages rotting on our Southern Border? The list of inconsistencies goes on and on.
You might say she was the only one who expressed any remorse for those effected by the Covid-19 Virus. I believe she has no empathy for those poor souls and simply doesn’t want to be blamed for it. Typhoid Melania is not a good look for someone who wants you to think she cares. But she doesn’t. She even told us so. With a Melania, every stitch of every outfit of every ensemble is chosen carefully for a specific reason.
Speaking of clothing, when did the Easter European Repressive Regime look become the new little black dress of today’s Western European American FLOTUS? Knee length leather boots would have been a nice touch, but alas, it was not to be (best). I’m sure some of you are snickering that at least she had clothes on. But remember, fake visas, counterfeit or non-existing work permits, six languages, seven languages, eight languages, a career in “modeling”, this is her MO. Say, do, fib, ad-lib, shortcut and weasel until you get to the next level.
I would venture a guess she says to herself “everybody does it” and “if I don’t do it someone else will” on a near daily basis. Justification of one’s bad acts is the bromide of the sociopath. If she does genuinely care at all for the safety and well-being of anyone else, ever. What you think of her is again, another matter.
Melania “cares” about what you think of her if she thinks a certain image of her, accurate or otherwise, adopted by you will get her what she wants, truth and the roses in the rose garden be damned. For now, we all know, when it comes to Presidential Rose Gardens, she will cut down over 100 years of history if she needs more room to provide a better angle shot for her next amazing feat of pomp and grandeur of illusion delusion.