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From the full version of Sunnyside's Lousy Book

Doesn't work, I believe in the good Lord

The evil spirits were at play in my neighbor’s drunkenness. At times my neighbors to the north of me were real noisy. I'd hear them say things like, "Oh he's out there wiring his truck again. He's painting strips on his truck." One time I even heard the red headed girl say, "I hope it falls on him.” In my judgement, I felt they had some kind of problem. I knew the city was using them to spy on me because of the suits and ties, and by the fact that they knew way too much about what was going on. Although I knew the old man didn't like me, there was times when he would make his way over onto my property to inquire upon what he couldn't see from his own yard. I'm sure the city was instructing him on what to do, what to say, and when to say it.
      There was another time when they must have noticed I was looking through my filling cabinet quite a bit. I'm sure they figured I was trying to put something together for my income tax statement. That afternoon as the old man and his son in-law were walking out across his back yard; making cracks about me. They laughed at me and son in-law said, "What good is it going to do him when he's already in the kitchen?”
      The exploitation went even farther, including the neighbor-hood kids and disc jockeys at the local radio stations. My own bank had aired commercials playing off of what was thought to be my miss fortune. (Or I should say, the radio stations must have put together the commercials and the bank might have bought them without knowing the significance behind them.) The bank commercials they aired were making fun of inventors trying to make it rich by coming up with brilliant ideas. I know the folks at the radio stations were clued in about me in some way. I'm sure they were making fun of what they thought was going down on part of my own ignorance. I also think it was a twisted effort to try to make me feel bad and I'm sure their goal was to see if it would help push me to committing suicide. I feel that someone had miss-lead them into thinking that they would be better off if I was cheated out of patents I'd receive on my inventions. As an effort to influence lack sympathy for me, the city was trying to make me out to be a bad drug dealer. I found it hard to believe the amount of cold-blooded people there was within the community I had called my home. I realized conspiracies have no compassion and they're very ruthless when it comes to incriminating a person.

The word on the street was saying that if I would say anything about my truck, or the fire, they would take the patent away.

Living in Tacoma had been very humiliating experience. I couldn't go outside my door without being laughed at by the neighbors. I'm sure the city wanted me to overhear the rumors they were spreading around town. I wouldn't doubt if the neighborhood kids were instructed to yell out the rumors as they ran up and down the street in front of my house. It seemed like every time I would come home, I would hear some twisted version of what I’d done on that given day. You may feel that I must have imagined most of things I heard, but to be honest with you I’ve learned to live with people’s noses in my business. However I admit I’ve heard things that weren’t said at time, but I feel it’s probably less than 10 % of the time and that’s because I mistake phrases for phrases I’ve heard a zillion times.

One thing I've never been able to get used to is the use of the kids to spread the rumors. The thing is, kids are honest and they repeat what is said in their household. The kids don't know better and what they think -- and say -- is often a result of what their parents say at home. At times the kids have been more knowledgeable of what was really going on because they compare notes. They've gotten to the truth of the mater at times when their parents were lead to believe otherwise. Thank God kids are more open minded than adults.

I’d heard people mention things that were private about me. Such as personal telephone conversations and the letters on my computer's hard drive. Several times I've heard people say negative things and others who say I won't succeed at my goals. The thing that has always surprise me was when they'd be heartless enough to say it to my face. Many times as they'd say such things, it just seemed to be a crude form of entertainment for them their friends. I had to learn to accept the fact that people can be just downright rude and think nothing about it. It’s always made me wonder where they get their information from and if they even understood how ruthless they sound when they repeat it. I've often wonder if they understand that their own kids were picking up on their in-human behavior. I myself wouldn't want to have any child of mine even witness the heartless environment people have created around me. I'd be afraid a child would learn to think such behavior is normal.
      One night they even set up people in a Puyallup night club to try to make me think I would lose the patent, just by mentioning anything about my truck. A so called friend of mine who was a professional painter whom I had actually hired at one time, must have been on to the game. As we were sitting at the bar, he managed to ask me how many miles I had on my new truck. As he asked me, I noticed a few people were standing right around us just waiting to hear anything I might say. When I said it had 17,000 miles on it, the people in the club made a big issue about it. They went around telling each other, "He spoke! It's got 17,000 miles on it! He's going to lose the patent on it!” It seemed like a party holiday for them and I thought it showed just how devious they were.
      Steve, the bassplayer I had bought pot from prior to being busted, was there. He was sitting at a table directly behind us. I sat down next to him and said, "I can't believe how cruel people can be." It wasn’t long after that, some cops stepped in through the door. Steve made it obvious to me he was checking his fanny pack to make sure his ID was assessable without running into his stash. His action as well as his presents there leads me to believe he must have been part of the reason the people in the club knew of the game being played on me. It was Steve's close friends who were running the word around that night saying I would lose the patent if I would say anything about my truck. That night assured me Steve had to have been bought off and very well part of the conspiracy. Steve happens to be the only musician, or pot dealer, I have ever known to have any money.
      Another time they either used a public address system at a car lot two blocks away on South Tacoma Way, or maybe even a police car's P.A. to shout out the message, "Dan Anderson, is going to be the richest paint store manager in the country!” Soon even the kids on the block got the message and began to run up and down the street repeating it. When I heard the new rumor, the phrase, "Its Dan's truck, Dan stole the patent, its Dan’s truck" Needless to say, the line used in the hydraulic store took on a new found meaning. Apparently I had my Dans’ mixed up and I had to wonder if it was just another game being played on me or not. Still to this day I have to except that it was just a game because whether Dan the paint store manager actually tried to still the so called patent, it doesn’t matter because he isn’t the one whose entitled to any patent on any of my inventions. The way I look at it is that the game was only a smoke screen concocted for the general public to fall for.

The next chapter of Sunnyside's Lousy Book is:

What a Pal

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