No RePay

/ Stories / Business / Business Associates /

Note: I put this up hurriedly, now I’ve added a better introduction to pk stories for this blog, and am adding other stories. Bear with the inadequacies of this one, I’ll try to improve it pronto.

I told a lot of stories at, as I had at its ancestor, as I continued to in its spinoffs: all destroyed, by the fed, by my family, by people who don’t want to see themselves in any mirrors as they slide down to hell. There were roughly 2,600 text files: some told no stories, but others told many. For sure there were hundreds of stories at K., maybe thousands: some primarily about me, some primarily about others, all illustrating some principle.

I have thousands more stories queued up in data bases, in text files … and who knows how many more in my head not yet even symbolized in a jot. I start this file rather than scribble a reminder of the following story and the point I want to make about it: the parallel, the extrapolation, the analogy I was to draw.

Starting in 1974 Gail Bruce was my artist. I came to keep company not only with her but with her husband, with their friends. Gail sent other artists to me. Why? To distract me from selling her stuff? To show off for her friends? For the latter reason, I think. Anyway, she introduced me to one Joyce Arons. Joyce I understood was the girlfriend of Murray Bruce’s best friend: Lenny Leokum. I could add a zillion details, one or two were already posted at when all my domains got zapped, never mind; just get this. Murray made a pile of money filming commercials. Lenny made money in related work: TV, advertising. Joyce was blond, cute, buxom … Nuff said?

There are poor people who worry about money; but not the way rich people do. When Howard Hughes died he was in the midst of trying, and failing, to borrow hundreds of millions of dollars — that was a lot of money then — so he could buy the major portion of “his” corporation, TWA. I bet he died feeling poor as well as rich, maybe more poor than rich. Murray earned several thousand dollars a day, lots of money in around 1974, ’75. It was never enough. I don’t have the details of what Lenny made, but there was a period where his expenses exceeded his income. He’d loaned $10,000 to Joyce, so she could fix up her loft: downtown Broadway, if I remember, eastward in the Village, maybe 6th Street, 7th Street. Hard up, Lenny started asking Joyce for some cash. Joyce put him off. Lenny repeated his reminders, she invented new excuses.

Then Joyce Arons had the gall one day to say to me, “Lenny never wanted me to pay back that load. It wasn’t a load; it was a gift.”

Ah ha. The whore her fee, but she wanted it to be polite: so she could be a whore without being called a whore.

Damn, I got her an extra $10,000 worth of income in 1978. I should have demanded a blow job first! (It never occurred to me to clue Lenny that she had $10,000 coming in, all over a couple of months if not in one check.

OK. That’s the background story, as much of it as I’m telling now. Below I’ll begin the real series of stories, tied together in the sack of the Joyce / Lenny debt story.

whoops, I can’t begin them now, but they’ll all have to do with debts owed but dismissed by the debtor, the creditor getting screwed because he doesn’t or can’t call in any collateral. We screw Jesus over salvation, we screwed me over the internet, my universities steal from me without knowing enough to know that they’re even doing it! And since the kleptocracy gives them power without accountability (except to the kleptocracy), the saints can do nothing. Yet.

Stories by Theme

About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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