money & guns

If only more people had the balls to stand up to despicable officials this way:

December 12, 1995
LAWSON WILLS
Dep. District Atty.
Pitkin Cty. Courthouse

Dear Mr. Wills,

I am given to understand that you want me to come into the courthouse and officially surrender to you, in front of witnesses, so that you can formally re-arrest me on some kind of vague, chickenshit charge cooked up by Officer Short on the night of Nov. 7-8, ‘95, in the course of our bizarre encounter on Cemetary Lane as I was very skillfully driving home (on an utterly deserted road) after delivering the keynote address at a major political rally full of people who planned to wake up the next morning (Election Day) and kick the shit out of the Aspen Ski Co.

Is my information correct?  Did that vengeful dingbat actually fail to serve me with a valid, legal summons? Did he botch everything that night? Was he so crazy that he couldn’t even arrest me properly? And is that why you want me to drive at top speed into town so you can get yr. picture in the papers while you slap handcuffs on me and swell up like a toad for the cameras?

Ah, Lawson, have you no shame? Are you a nazi? Are you nuts with lust for yr. upcoming 15 minutes of fame? Has it come to this—that you have to beg, bitch & cajole yr. victims to turn themselves in & abandond all hope for anything except humiliation and jail?

How long, O Lord, how long? You should be deeply ashamed of yourself.  I talked with a journalist who said you reminded him of William Jennings Bryan at the Scopes “Monkey Trial” in 1925.  It was a horrible thing to hear. (Bryan, as you recall, was wihpsawed by Darrow & wound up testifying, under oath, that a whale is not a mammal & therefore, neither was he.)

Ah, but don’t get me wrong, Lawson: I’m on your side—or at least I was until that bungling dunce harassed me for 3.5 hours on election day and made an ass of himself in the jail.  It was ugly.  He went haywire when he finally understood that i was not Drunk and none of his high-tech Drunk-Buster machines were going to give him the numbers he wanted.  He was like an ape trapped in chains.  His fellow Officers were mortified, and so was I. It is shocking to see Aspen’s long and honorable tradition of quality law enforcement being sullied by these charges about “rogue cops” and “stalkers” and “dumb Watersuckers with sixguns” who strut like John Wayne and think like Mark Fuhrman.  There ain’t many, as we know, but we also know in our bones that one rotten apple ruins the whole bushel, and that is why I feel real sympathy for you, because I know the people you work for, and I know how sick they are.

But don’t worry, Lawson: the pigs will soon be out of the poke. Yessir. The fat is in the fire. Today’s pig is tomorrow’s bacon.

Whoops. Sorry. But rest easy. I will come in (probably today) and surrender again—and a whole legion of falsely accused drunkards will come with me. And they all hate Mark Fuhrman. But not me, Lawson.  I don’t hate anybody. I am a child of god of the new-age Buddhist persuasion, and I love to go to court. because that is where Justice lives, and you know how I feel about Justice.

Indeed. Yr. time is coming, Whore-face. When I get yr. lame ass in court, you’ll wish you’d been run over and killed by a Buick when you were six years old. We will skewer those swine on worldwide TV and put them in prison for Perjury. Nobody in this valley will ever see them again.

You filthy stinking animal. Do you know what Misprison of a Felony means? Or aggravated conspiracy to obstruct justice? Are you aware of the terrible punishment that awaits a Main Pig like you?

Okay. That’s it. I’ll surrender at noon on Wednesday.