Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Burying Bodies, Celebrating Ambition

Just finished Brutal. A book written by Kevin Weeks, business partner in crime to Whitey Bulger.
I didn't find it brutal, but it takes a lot to turn my stomach. It was interesting, though. Always interesting to read a criminal talking about murder, extortion, gambling, intimidation, robberies and beatings like you and I talk about a three day weekend. They killed a lot of people, buried them in basements just like on The Sopranos, and had to dig them up and move them from time to time, just like on The Sopranos.
Bulger was a pretty smart guy. He took great pains to not get caught. Didn't drink, smoke or gamble so he reduced his vulnerability. Plotted everything carefully, didn't act unless he felt the conditions were close to perfect and didn't act out of anger. Most of the people he killed didn't see it coming because he let the air cool before disposing of them. Revenge is a dish best served cold.
He established multiple identities and stashed money all over the place because he knew eventually he would be forced to run.
He and Weeks used to talk about how if they put as much effort into a straight life as they did into being criminals, they would still be rich but they'd be able to enjoy it more.
I have read that comment from other criminals as well.
Interesting perspective.
One I can identify with. Because I work for the miserly, amoral and immoral new Hampshire State Liquor Commission, I am forced to seek additional income.
I started stealing social security checks from old ladies.  The first one I approached, a seventy two year old, knocked me to the ground with a roundhouse kick and then proceeded to stomp me. I forgot that seventy is the new sixty. I did manage to stick my tongue out at her as I limped away.
Graduated to eighty year olds and found out that mace works. And while I'm standing there tearing up, the old broad snagged my wallet and kicked me in the gonads. I was pretty pissed off and a little feisty so I flipped her off. Then I had to stagger down the street as she chased me swinging her cane like nunchucks.
Ninety year olds are a little easier; they are brittle and move slower. But they have James Bond-like equipment. Ran into a nonagenarian with a walker that shoots fire out of the handles like a flame thrower. As I rolled on the ground trying to extinguish my hair, she pressed a button that extended knives from the legs, which she used to carve her initials into my belly. I begged her to back off and crawled away in humiliation.
So you can see that I have put a lot of time and effort into my criminal career with absolutely no results. Which mirrors my experience with the NHSLC.
You read a book like Brutal and it makes you wonder about a life of crime. Yeah you're gonna get caught eventually, but until then you live a very good life. Fancy cars, nice jewelry and suits, impressive houses, cool vacations, premium booze.
Crime is alluring. Good payoff and you make your own hours.
I'm gonna have to think bigger, though. I can't even walk past the Blue Heaven and Hair Senior Home any more without fearing for my life. They got a wanted poster of me on the wall right next to one advertising Little Billy's walker repair service.
The notoriety 's kind of cool, though.

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