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Does Malibu have any more than one honest cop?
I rented a spot at the Castic Lake RV Park in the higher mountain desert in northern Los Angeles County, near Santa Clarita, for $150 for a week. As soon as I pulled my trailer into my spot, I had the opportunity to meet one of my new neighbors. I could tell she didn’t want any full time campers moving into the park especially around her trailer. She asked me about my truck and I had to give her one of my spiels. In it I told her about the phony rumors that followed me. Whether or not she turned around and used the rumors against me or not, I really don’t know, but I do know the child molester rumor popped up. It was quite frustrating really. Like the time I was trying to use the phone booth on the side of the bath house and the kids kept riding their noisy plastic big wheel around it. I was sure that they had been sent over to play around me so people could see how I would react. The first few days in the desert mountains was very dry and windy; a bit dustier than I'd like. I found myself giving the clerk at the trailer park a floppy disk with my story on it and said it was what I had to do to fight the phony rumors. I even ran into the same older man I’d seen in the Mac Dee’s in southern Washington at the Mac Dee’s nearby. After a few days I was enjoying the summer like weather and began to scout around for a place closer to the city for my trailer. While doing this I also stopped in a few of the book stores in the area and realized that the name Sunnyside could be heard in a Barns and Noble Book Store in the town of Valencia, 1,500 miles from home. By the second week I had exhausted the leads to other trailer courts that were closer to the coast and I decided to stay in the desert for awhile and paid for a second week and ordered for a phone to be hooked up there. It was too much of a long drive just to get to where I wanted to be and 75 miles from the ocean. I found out that dragging a trailer to LA County isn't such a good one. I found out my trailer was too old to be able to get into the Walnut RV Park in Northridge even if there was a space available, but the lady there told me about the Birmingham Trailer Village in Van Nuys on Balboa Boulevard. It was even a better location for me and rent was only $375 plus electricity for a spot with large trees overhead to shade my trailer. At least there in the San Fernando Valley I was about 25 mile closer to everything. From there, polluted waves were 25 miles away and cleaner less polluted waves were 50. Least the Valley was where I felt I needed to be. Before I even got my trailer into the court, the manager of the Birmingham Trailer Village asked about my truck. He seemed to be quite amused by my spiel so I asked him if he had a computer. (I’d seen one in his office.) He said he did, so I turned him onto a disk of my rough draft. The funny thing was that he brought it back to me the next day. (It was the only disk I ever had returned to me.) I asked him way? He said, “I’m not into that sort of thing, I walk with the Lord.” I couldn’t help myself from looking for suspicious people or situations around me. I was looking for something that would indicate I was being spied upon. Well it didn’t take long. Kitty corner behind my trailer another trailer with mirrored windows was parked and it lacked the appearance of having anybody around to indicate someone living there. It gave me a suspicion that behind the window of the slide-out was a good place for a surveillance camera. Sure enough my suspicions were seemingly right. In all the time in the seven months I’d lived there, only once I saw a couple taking some jugs of water inside and another day I saw a guy using the barbeque. At times I felt I should have helped myself to the use of the barbeque since it looked as if it was just a prop. I knew when I got to California I wouldn’t be able to depend on having a phone that worked. I was hoping that maybe by chance it was a local problem in Washington and just maybe I might have a clean phone elsewhere. That wasn’t the case though and I tried to land jobs by word to mouth with the construction workers or anyone for that matter. Several times I’d thought that I’d landed a job through people at the trailer court and they would say that they would contact me. I even made sure they knew of my space number so they could just knock on my door. Well it was the damdist thing; just about every time I’d thought I’d landed a job. That is as soon as I’d walk away from the prospective connection, I’d see the manager guy approach them. I knew he was chasing my jobs out from underneath me. I found myself fascinated by the big city. I found many books entertainment film business. They were filled with information to how the business works. Found myself reading books written by lawyers and agents who work within the entertainment and publishing industry. I learned that I had made the right choice to stick with writing a book instead of writing a script. A complete book will get much more consideration than just another script. I also learned that for some people, getting an agent is a waste of time because you can get a lawyer for half as much. With a lawyer tied to a project is usually takes only a 5% commission. In some cases it’s better than having an agent at 10% with possible conflictive politics from one agency to another to get in the way. Getting management is usually 15% if you feel like they could do more for you than an agent. But managers aren’t allowed to do contracts as agents and lawyers are able to. Getting management and a lawyer would probably get more attention to a project, but it would cost you twice as much as an agent. I guess it would matter which agency you would land because many of the larger agencies have their own in house lawyers. If you feel you would like to get a job working on a movie set in Hollywood; when you start out, they expect to work for free. The funny thing about the biz is that just about everyone wants you to work for free and they always know important people. I could either, sit at home and work on my book and try to feed myself, or burn some diesel and get free food on a movie set. I found myself working on a set working as a freebee grip on a movie called "Half Way There.” It was directed by a French guy who managed to get one of his prior projects sold to the Brovo cable network. Just by being on the set I ended up being an extra. They wanted me to walk like a zombie down an ally in down town LA. As I had to walk across the road with a suite case, the car came up the ally with the camera mounted in the rear seat and the car came so close to running me over, it was difficult not to crack up while the film was running. (It was a night silhouette shot and I doubt if you can even tell it's me.) Most of the time I was in Van Nuys, I devoted to writing my book. My writing skills improved as the months rolled on. It got frustrating at times when my computer would act up and refuse to save what I had written. It had done it to me while I was in Tacoma, but the problem would seem to come and go. It seemed like it would only do it when I had a substantial amount of new material, or the material had some political heat to it. Several times I’d have to print it out and then rewrite it once I got my computer booted up again. At least in LA it let me print it out, compared to the time in Tacoma, when I even had a hard time getting it to print out. Never the less it was frustrating and I was beginning to wonder if somebody was making it act up via remote control. While living in the trailer park in Van Nuys, it was no surprise when I heard the child molester rumor pop up again. I wondered who was spreading the rumor. It didn’t amaze me much, nor did I care much about it either. I just kept an eye out, but the only people that seemed to be watching me very much were some long time residents there. I’m pretty sure they were just some welfare cases, however I began to suspect a older guy who began hanging out with one family after a while, but I didn’t know where he lived or came from. Then one day I ran out of fuel in my truck as I pulled into the trailer park. I asked a single gal who lived a couple of trailers down for me for a lift up to the gas station. I was amazed that she went into the station to pay for the $10 worth of fuel and then wouldn’t let me pay her for it. As we got back to my truck, I mentioned the phony rumors. She said, “Yeah I heard them all.” I asked, “What did you hear?” “That you spent eight years in prison for molesting a child and the parents of the child beat up your truck.” I said, “I beat my truck up myself. I even videotaped it, you want to see the video tape, I’ve got it with me in my trailer.” “No,” she said, “Don’t even try to prove your innocents, it only makes you appear guilty to these stupid people.” “Well I’ve got the tape.” “So, I knew you must have done it yourself when I saw you doing something to it.” “What? Pulling the dents out so I could smash them in some more?” “Yeah.” The lady across from me bought a metal storage shed off some other neighbor in the trailer court and she figured that my truck would work real slick for moving it so she hired me to move it to her lot. I mentioned that I’d heard of the rumors going around and she said that she had heard them too. She said she found the rumors a bit hard to believe because she too couldn’t understand why the mirrors and glass weren't broken. She even supplied me the source of the rumors. It was the guy who was hanging out with the welfare cases. She pointed out his motor home to me. It was a nice bus; about forty foot long. She said that nobody knew what he did for a living or even where he got the money for it. I checked it out and it was just bought and licensed in Arizona in the month of January, just happened to be the same month I split from Washington. I got on my computer and wrote: Does anybody know who owns this new motor home with a license plate number KF 3114 -? Licensed in Arizona in January 2000. People in the trailer court started to get the creeps over having him around. It wasn’t too much longer and he was gone. I got on my computer and made a journal entry for the day and asked everyone down at CNN and the other news networks about who the license plate number was registered to. The entry isn’t in the journal anymore and so you can assume the words in my files have gotten altered from time to time. I had a pretty good idea of who owned it anyway. I’m sure many of the people in the media know for sure. It’s no sweat off my ass if they took the entry or any other file for that matter. I predicted something would happen to it so I wrote the number down on the back cover of my hand written journal, just in case. After going to LA, one of the accomplishments I can credit myself for is the fact that I know ABC News there has me and my truck on video tape because on the 29th of August 2000, while filling up my fuel tank at a gas station, a news reporter, Borus Sollouksy was there covering the rising price of gas. He always uses a slogan, "I'm fighting in your corner." I couldn’t stand hearing the hypocrite say that every day on my television and there at the gas station was a chance to find out if he really fights for us. As my tank was filling, I walked over to the news van and said, "Do you guys even know what news is?" They gave me the old “Well…” look. I said, “Do you guys even realize we're killing off the smart guys every day?” They seemed to take notice in my statement. “The human race is getting dumber by the day because the GATT treaty has private inventors dropping dead every day." They all just stared at me having nothing to say in response. I said, "We’re getting dumber by the day and you have to worry if your daughter is going to bring home a moron.” Borus Solousky got a laugh out of it. The other just stared at him and I saw nothing funny about what I was saying, so I tore into Solousky by saying, “You think its funny, you must be a fucking moron. Get the fuck off my TV set!" Borus acted as if I was a threat to him and told his assistant to call the police. As his assistant was fumbling with his phone, I walked away to tend to the filling of my fuel tank. The camera man had more guts though. During my pitch he stood at the rear of the van with a big grin on his face as if he took enjoyment in seeing someone putting Borus down to size. His camera was already set up there on a tripod so he set his sights on me and began rolling the tape. As I drove my truck out of the station, I could see myself pulling out in my truck in the monitors mounted on the back wall of the news van. As I drove past the van, I was yelling a Borus, telling him what kind of moron he was. I doubt if the sound was picked up by the microphone, but I’m sure it showed me yelling profanities at Borus. I pulled out from the station slowly so that the camera man would have plenty of time to get a good shot at the signs I had posted on the back windows of my truck.. The signs said exactly what I said to Borus about the GATT treaty. If he didn’t get a good shot of the signs, you can bet he got a good shot of my truck. But of course we saw none of it on the evening news. Well, this wasn't a holiday picnic in Hollywood. No doubt my phone was rigged. I had sent over 175 resumes for a position as a grip PA and after five or six months I realized the only way I could make any money was to go down to the Labor Ready. Since they had the phone and I had a truck, it would normally result in me being called upon for work. Unfortunately it was usually long drives to the low paying jobs, but it put food on the table. At the first Labor Ready, I got fired after only a few days of work because someone phoned into the office claiming they were the one who I was dispatched to work for, and that person said their employees felt threatened by me. The manager said the guy said that I had threatened to sick the CIA on to them or something of that vain. There was no reason to argue with the manager, I was fired and that was it for that office. The manger expressed that I was lucky that he wasn’t going to make sure I couldn’t work through any of the other Labor Ready offices. I tried another temp agency nearby, but after one or two mornings of just sitting there, I decided to try another Labor Ready that was father away from Van Nuys. There I was worked a few days, but the work was ruff. I found myself cutting bush for fire barriers in the hills, and another time I found myself on a Lake in 100 degree weather, digging ditches for irrigation, for a plumbing contractor. When the landlady came around looking for back rent, I told her about her husband’s little doings. I said, “Shit, he goes around chasing my jobs out from underneath me and you wonder why I don’t have the rent? Hell, spreading those phony rumors around is called slander and you two call yourselves Christians? You call that walking with the Lord?” Needless to say, I was out to take them for the three months rent that I knew I could get over on them for.
The next chapter of Sunnyside's Lousy Book is:
Featured chapter prior to
This segment describes what the second set of court documents are all about.
They get it up, but the strap wouldn't slide down on the day they hung it
Even after a car ran into it the same day as they put it up.
I guess I'm not the only one who was looking for traffic and not a gray pole.
Yah wanna check out line 19
My Synchro-link truck