Some times people need a buddy coach to help us,(not for money) Just someone to help steer you in the right direction. But again think of that rubber band affect. Its that change the fucks with us. We are just used to being the way we are. Stuck in Limbo land.
The White Advocacy Group: Growing up on Southern military bases doesn't have the same feel to it as growing up in Jersey, the Bronx or Compton. But having relatives on one side of the family from the deep South, you learn one thing. Don't fuck with country people! You learn one other thing too. Country people will fuck with you! "Dude that ain't cool!" I couldn't believe Bruce said the wors nigger in front of Mike, our friend. Bruce looks Mike right in the eye and says, "Mike, you're not a nigger are you?!" Here is the weird thing. I do not believe Bruce to be a racist because he never treated Mike different after he found out that he was mixed. That's what we used to call them back then. If your Dad was black and Mom was white, you were mixed. I know! I sound like a fucking racist. What is worse, at one time I belonged to the White Advocacy Group. Marshall had just been released from the FL penn. He had done eight years hard time for firing weapons at the police. This was the mid eighties. The FL prisin system was run by white gangs. I don't pretend to know the name of the gang, because I never asked. If Larry wasn't with Marshall, me and Marshall probably never would have hung out. Let's back up for a second. "Johnny, my son is coming by later. He just got out of the joint." I could care less about that. I knew Dee would not have me hang around without getting me high. Dee worked for the - fuck, I cannot tell you where she worked - anyway, she worked for a State agency. Not a spy. Could have been a law enforcement emoloyee, an Officer of the court or even a social worker. Drugs bring people together. I think that is why the State is so against people using drugs. Besides, marijuana will wake you up! If nothing else it will help you sleep. So, when I meet Marshall, he has a full beard, a full head of black hair and he is wearing a beanie - thats what us hippies call them. My first thought is don't you know how hot it is in Tampa? My only guess is that he was on vacation in Northern FL. But then I noticed the swastika. What the fuck? He can't be a racist. Larry, Marshall's road dog, was a 5' 6" tank. Back before they took the weights out of prison, you could tell who had been through the FL get thick program. And the brothers, were especially big. What might have seemed like an odd combination at the time, we had something in common - a lot of free time. The only thing more valuable than money is time. The only thing worse than working - for some people - is time, especially free time. That is why most people hate retirement! Tommy Shaw even hated the fact that he had too much time on his hands. For me, it beats working! Damn, this weed is good. Back to the story! Marshall and Larry knew that if they were going to let me run with them, I needed to be prepared, tested. What they didn't know is that I grew up with the most lovable sociopath. Sociopaths get a bad rap for the few, small percentage, mind you, of deranged individuals that seek pleasure in killing people. I am talking about the sociopath next door that has the courage to not only move against the crowd, but relish the opportunity to lean in! Put your shoulder into it! My kind of people. Entertainers, athletes, writers and musicians! Not the killers like doctors, lawyers and politicians! "Dad, this fourth grader is picking on me" At the time we were stationed at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina - not far from my Father's boy hood home of Georgetown, SC. So, one thing is certain. The event happened at an Air Force installation in my own neighborhood. I was in the 1st grade. This was on the base. My Dad is efficient. His advice? "Johnny, take this stick with you. But, if you do, you have to use it. Otherwise, that fat fuck mighy beat you up with your own stick!" My Dad might as well have been a prophet! That fat fuck beat me up with the stick my Father gave me! In the Bible, Joseph was given a coat of many colors. A gift from his Dad. My Dad gave me a fucking stick! He gave me something else; Courage!! But when you combine that courage with an overall distrust of authority - can you blame me, after that? - you get a dude who will strut around like a rooster. If you have read this far, you know the drill. But before I give you the payoff, let me let you in on the hook. Marshall? Larry? Not only is this a true story, but Marshall has a verifiable marking and State record that has been sealed. The tatoo has been removed. But, when you want the attention of the FBI, CSPD and every coward in blue, you know what to do! Take advantage of an association that has a misleading cover. I contacted an old friend on FB. I left tracks. I led them to water. But, now? They get their first drink. Who? The CSPD - the Colorado Springs police department, Mayor Suthers and even the folks at City Hall. Ya'll know you covered up physical violence against a woman. Know this too! I won't just say I have black friends, but the only friends that I have left, are black. The white supremacist body language was just my way of leaning into the crowd of MOFOs that wear a gun and a badge. Make you think twice about putting your hands on me! Why? They got the tapes! Geronimo, aka Johnny Rock, was making a bi-weekly appearance at their fort! Cowards! As one police officer asked me, "What am I supposed to do about it?" The problem is - cowards won't do anything! If you were a fan of @tampa, I owe him a debt of gratitude for teaching me how to sell. find your target audience bait them with verbal judo so they cannot see the end from the beginning tell a story - that is always the bait Now you know the hook! So do they! A wise man told me I should figure out how to monetize my creativity. Still working on that. However, my focus for the next few years is getting Officer Tyler Walker charged! Either that or getting the Mayor to shoot himself! No, really. It's only fair. Cowards do that too! Sort of like Judge Coe!! Now hear is the rub. My storytelling style lends itself to a style of mediocre writing that is enjoyable, for me. But let's not forget that I learned from the Master! So I can't imagine that I write a book about the incident. You know what it does do? The same thing it did for Bob. Bob Lassiter. An ET legend. It might make for an interesting podcast. Bob had the talent to do this year round on the radio. I would rather do something else with my time. But if you don't think these stories are preludes to monologues, you are deluding yourself. Bob taught me something else though. You bait the suckers, sure - the people who are so pissed off at you that they can't quit you! What he also taught is to give something of value. Added value. Criminal with a conscience! At least I have one! What is the payoff? Entertainment for most. Food for thought for some. But for the overwhelming majority? A big fuck you to the system. Isn't that why we took up trading? As a big ole fuck you to the system. If we become members of the elusive club with fuck you money! We can say. Fuck you! And mean it! So whats the payoff? Hopefully, entertainment. Definitely, a big fuck you to the system. If I am lucky enough to develop a market system, you will he the first to read about it. Its all right here as I work my way through it. For now, let's just shoot for entertainment. Who is the White Advocacy Group? "Ma'am, can I have a quick word with you?" In a very dismissive tone, a Colorado hottie who is a reporter for the local news responds,"We are about to go live?" Hmmm. I can only hope. I had been canvassing First Bank with business cards that I had drawn up with the victims busted - literally bleeding - face and a headline from The Independent (the local paper) with a headline taken directly from the paper forming a trail for anyone with interest and a couple of seconds to spare. I would enter the drive through and send about five of these cards through. A couple of times I went into the bank with a short speech and a hand-held camcorder, a small one. "Let the Colorado Springs police department know that I am looking for them." Sure, they closed my account. But, one thing is certain. I had their attention! So when I happened upon a reporter with a camera set uo - mic in hand - standing at attention, I knew I had found my audience. Who knows if I made the air or not. Let the Colorado Springs police department know that the White Advocacy Group is in town and we will seek justice for the girl that was assaulted at Memorial Hospital. I did a modified goose step after I had pivoted 180 degrees and exhibiting what same may perceive as racist hand gestures. If I made the air that was a bonus. My motivation? Getting the attention of our target audience. A one man gang! Fighting for the truth. Confronting people with their own hearts. Just like good ole Bob used to do.
No fishing. I am in CO now and there isn't water within 30 miles - except for a creek that is contaminated
In another thread Volpri used the term losers. I had to "like" the post. Financially, I would probably win an award for ETs biggest loser, not weight wise. I won't lie and say money is not important. In fact money is so important I have taken tremendous risks (bending the law, breaking the law and especially trading. When I first went to college, I realized pretty quickly that programming was out the question. Although I got a "B" in tue class, I do not recall one of my programs working as it was designed. The sad part is the class was Cobal, not fortran. So then I changed my major to economics and faded out in my junior year. Logic is not my strong suit! However, I do remember something called "strain theory." If social "scientiests" are correct, and my interpretation is not off, it would actually be a good indicator for my future. We all want the sake things: a nice looking girl, a nice car and a desire to live in a nice neighborhood. Here's the funny thing. If you find the right woman, you canm have all of that without sacrificing your own blood, sweat and tears. The word player used to mean something - way before a bunch of nerds hijacked the term and lost sight of the number one thing women look for in a man - authenticity. I don't consider myself to be a "bad boy." I was simply a good boy who wanted nice things. Loser? Financially, no doubt! In other ways I was able to get what I wanted. The weird thi by was that they came to me. Sandee gave me a car. Courtney gave me $300 before we ever went out. I have only paid for one date in CO. I am not bragging. In fact I am ashamed for how I acted! However, that is chump change. Its not exactly a sound plan for retirement. But the reality, of American culture, is this. In some circles what I did would be viewed as a winner! But when you factor in the hurt and pain I have caused, I agree with @volpri! Those are the actions of a loser!!
The words we use have influence over who we are and to say that your the biggest loser here on ET would be totally incorrect.
Yes. I believe that. However, I think it was Ed Seykota who said that we get - from the market - what we think we deserve. Maybe its all those years in Church or being raised in an authoritative household, I believe there is a cleansing (psychological for sure and maybe spiritual) that comes from admitting when you wronged others. My hope is this journal provides that cleansing. After all, thats why I am here; to "win" in the market!
As far as past mistakes goes, we just take ownership and say we fucked up and go forward and we do not repeat them. There's also maybe another way? We can reach back out toward the people we wronged and apologize and then go forward. As far a Seykota? Do you think people are actually looking at it this way after the markets been going down all week?