By Popular Demand

More of an illustrative story. One that relates how the world really works, what makes it tick when it matters.

MEET MIKE

Mike started being a drug dealer in LA back in the 80s. Mike did a lot of time in the penn because a booby-trapped trunk of the car he was driving blew up when a cop opened it and a hot piece of metal burned the cop’s eyeballs out. Mike had tried to warn him, the trap was to stop other crooks, not the police and DEA. For those, all you had to do was go quietly and wait for the lawyer to show up as long as you weren’t the f—up of the month that the cartels threw law enforcement to hide the fact that the War on Drugs is a farce. Just enough seized to justify raising the street price and, by the way, making it seem as though more was seized each time because it was measured by street value that increases after each bust due to the appearance of scarcity.

Anyway, that’s why Mike did so much time and then had to leave California after he got out. He had told the cop not to open it and got bashed in the teeth for the warning and LAPD and LACSD have long memories.

But what is more interesting is of course how Mike learned to booby-trap trunks.

MEET GARY

Gary was an orphan who put himself through college. Gary was undercover during the war in Vietnam as a US Army Staff Sergeant linguist when his real job was as a CIA officer.

Gary took eleven enemy bullets in Veitnam. Thankfully for him, one was a tracer round and that cauterized several of the others so he didn’t bleed to death.

Gary was sent stateside to recover from his injuries but remained under his cover. This is where some general decided to boss around a staff sergeant in order to impress a lady.

At first Gary balked at the silly request to pick up a piece of paper. Then he realized why he had been asked and was admonished for talking back. Gary apologized and the general moved on.

So, of course Gary went to the vehicle storage facility building and rigged the general’s car’s gas tank to blow up the next time it was on a long trip. It worked and the general died.

He turned himself in to the MPs but suggested that they needed to call a number on a card that he gave them. Eventually, they did call.

Langley goons showed up and got the charges dropped. “We have to end our affiliation with you,” they told him, “But don’t worry, we’ll find you a new gig.”

The new gig was teaching drug dealers “security.”

Now that’s about as close to absolute power as it gets. CIA, and the intelligence community in general, likes to claim it is well disciplined.

Yet nothing has changed. You can be the guy who pulled duty to drive the general, burn in flame, and not even merit a mention in the story when it is told on some blog.