Le prisonnier

And so he sat in the cell that was solitary, and not the solitary of the card game, but the solitary of endless reflection and rememberance of things past that were better things, when the money was there, and the clouds of nine ladies catered to him.

He remembered the tower of trump, and the limos, and the waiters that were obsequious in hopes of a tip to fund their little lives, lives that existed only to serve such as him and only him, who were given the earth as dominion.

The cell did not exist, nor could it exist, because he could not be imprisoned by a boy of a judge who cared not for appeals and for the Tifford's arguments, but instead defied law and justice and sent him to these rough surroundings.

He knows those who oppose him, the bashers of F.A.K.E., and those who envy the Bentley, and the houses in the sky that god has granted him as he should. They are small, and not worthy of his boot heel, or the drippings from his scrotum in the heat, although tyrone is much desirous of them and they are sweet on his tongue. The roaches swarm in the darkness, and the light of the righteous will scatter them as the leaves scatter in the winter storms, or in the tornadoes that afflict Dallas and other places in the hellhole of the midwestern counties.

If only Danner would come, and he could be liberated, and see the western park, and the circle of columbus, even the oak bar at the plaza and the 14 dollar burgers on the AMEX.

Mon cinquième jour

Talk to me, guapa. No one else in this cell will.

It has been a long day. The dawn breaks early. The sun sets late. Like combat, the time in between is boredom punctuated by brief periods of terror.

The terror is less since I lost Tyrone. He is not a nice man. Solitary is lonely, but better.

Prison makes you appreciate the little things. I miss the smell of the Bentley leather. I miss waiters sucking up to me. I miss the G-5 charters.

But what does it all mean, guapa? I've spent five days in hell. Rollie Rolex is gone. I can't tell time without my $40,000 clock. It's so not fair.

I should be out by tomorrow. Tiffy has never lost.

Tifford filed my appeal. It's lame, but it's what I have.

Jour quatre : Je suis seul.

Life in the joint gives a guy time to think. And since I've been transferred from GP to Solitary I've had a lot of time to do just that.

I thought Tyrone was a warm and sensitive guy. I was wrong. He is a BEAST!! An ANIMAL!! How could I have been so wrong?

This is life distilled to its basics. Air; fried baloney; a place to crap. What more, really, do you need?

I tried to call Babs again, but the number now rings through to Juan's Pool Service. I wanted to tell her that maybe we should cut back and simplify. Drop the Bentley and one of the mercs. Sell the condo. How many million buck properties does a guy need?

Got a cheerful card from the crazies at yahoo. Sunset. Mountains. Crap like that. They are such useful idiots. That idiot arun still thinks he is going to get his $250,000 back.

This is just too depressing. How dare these petit bureaucrats deprive a man like me of freedom, and the right to wear my $47,000 Rollie Rolex! It's just not fair!

I'm sure that Tifford will secure my release tomorrow.

Semper Fi!

Le deuxième jour

The joint is a lonely place after the screw calls lights out. I'm a hard guy, but nobody is hard enough to deal with the shutdown of the easy josh between cons that comes down like a ton of bricks with the mournful shut the fuck up maggots call of the guard on his last rounds.

I didn't ask for this. Sure, I took a couple large in kickbacks fron Neuhaus for illegal stock sales. Who wouldn't?

And there were a few frails that the Babs didn't know about. But so what? A guy's a guy, right? And Cloud Nine takes the company AMEX.

So here I am, without even a Floyd Norris column to read, and nothing to look at but the rock-hard, chisled body of my suite-mate tyrone as he snores in his peaceful sleep. There must be some way to speed the passage of the hours.

That silly twit Babs must have forgotten to pay the telephone bill. When I finally got my turn at the telephone, I got a recording that this number has been disconnected. Broads. Can't live with em; can't live without em.

Maybe I'll wake Tyrone up and see if he wants to whisper...

Le premier jour

WOW! It seemed as if my head had barely touched the pillow (note to guard-pillow has lumps and smells bad. Please replace.) when it was already time for our 6:00 AM breakfast. With three hundred fellow suite-mates crowded into a small room it was pretty cozy, but not much worse than the owner's box I had after I beat out Don Trump for ownership of the Cincinatti Reds.

Breakfast was...unusual-fried Bologna sausage, an egg-like substance, and pain blanc. I've had better, but Babs told me that this brief stay will help me understand what the little man experiences every day. It must really suck to be a little man.

I am slowly getting to know Tyrone, my suite mate. He is a man of few words. In fact, so far the only thing he has said is Shut the fuck up, or I'll break your face. Underneath that rough exterior, though, I sense a warm and sensitive guy who, like me, is a victim of an unjust system.

I was kind of bummed out with the demonstration that Arun promised to organize for my freedom. I looked out of my slit window, and all I saw was three homeless guys sharing a bottle of MD 20/20. They didn't even have a sign! Maybe I misunderstood the date.

The good news is that I am beginning to pick up Spanish, which will be handy for dealing with the help when I get back to Palm Beach. I can already say puta gringo gorda!

I am writing a long letter to Floyd Norris at the New York Times. He works for the naked shorters, but I am demanding that he print my side of the story!! Once the truth gets out about the widespread corruption in the markets, and the collusion of the SEC I am sure that I will be freed immediately.

Thanks for all the encouraging comments I have received on this blog, particularly the note from Patty Byrne. If this can happen to me, it can happen to any responsible businessman. If I can be unjustly imprisoned, then outstanding penny-stock CEO's like Michael Zwebner, Urban Casavant, Vinny "two toes" LoCastro, and what's his name at PLNI are also in danger. Folks like us are the backbone of the American economy, which is being destroyed by naked shorters and message board bashers like star the wonder pup.

I may have made a few mistakes. Who hasn't? SEC rules are ambiguous at best, particularly the one about false and misleading press releases. And where is it written that a guy can go to jail for accepting a few gifts from friends? It's not like I was smoking dope!

I'll write more tomorrow after my release. If you want to help out, I could use a carton or two of Newport 100's.

J'arrive

It was a lonely journey. Since my wife, Babs, told me that we needed to watch pennies until this unjustice is righted, I was forced to charter a G-3 instead of a G-5 for my pilgrimage to New York, and to take a Town Car from Teterboro to Foley Square instead of a limo.

I had considered fleeing the country, and establishing a CEO in exile, but Artie Tifford, my brilliant attorney who has won so many legal battles for me, advised me that my offshore accounts had been frozen, and that the Tombs were probably nicer digs than a slum in Zimbabwe. Plus, unjust imprisonment establishes my martyrdom to the cause of freeing the world of naked shorting.

I arrived at what is termed "processing" promptly at 11:59:59 PM on May 3, 2008, and was politely greeted by the professional staff with the instruction to "hit the wall and spread em, maggot". These guys are a real bunch of kidders, and they clearly understand that I am innocent.

After their efficient intake process I was shown to my suite at 4:30 AM, and was greeted by my suitemate, Tyrone, who grunted "top bunk, fat-assed honkey". I think we will get along fine for the few hours I will be in here.

It's been a busy day, so I will close for now and take up my struggle in the morn. My friend Arun is organizing a massive demonstration to protest my imprisonment tomorrow, so I should have some exciting things to report. Semper fi!!