From: Gary S. Gevisser

Sent: Sunday, March 23, 2003 9:07 PM
To: 'John K. Pollard Jr.'
Cc: rest
Subject: RE: To whom it may concern. The First Wave.






John, what do you call items that have the logos Quicksilver and Gotcha to mention little of the crazy idea of getting the Hong Kong Chinese who now own Hang Ten to conduct a focus group with a sheer t-shirt having the words encrypted “MADNESS” strategically placed, “s.eer madness” [sic]?


Since I am copying other folks on this e-mail I should stress that you have no connection to the infamous Israeli spy Jonathan Pollard nor any connection to the Democratic Poster Boy, “Rowdy Roundy” Poli Pollak whose I seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks.


No doubt Polie Pollak and King Golden Jnr Esq. would get on like a house on fire especially if there are young uninformed, better yet, uniformed underlings to test their mettle against. Interesting would you also agree how these liberal yoyos who love to debate somehow lose their tongues when on the receiving end of one of my knuckleballs? In due course I will respond ever so briefly, but you can bet your bottom dollar, most effectively to this up and coming prankster who should consider another line of work. I am now placing my lawyers around the world on full alert to respond ever so cautiously to anyone who knocks on their door with the pretext of serving me with an ill-advised complaint.


As the recession deepens those momworker63s, orphans, widowers and pensioners will get a lot of relief seeing folks like the Democratic Poster Boy and King Golden line up alongside them in the food lines and of course I and my worriers will be there alongside giving those truly in need the most help.[1]


Earlier today I was down at dog’s beach and the tide was rising fast as Pypeetoe tried to stay in tune, cutting back and forth over the rocks. My one concern is that he could slip, mess up his good looks and the movie role Devin Standard has in mind for him could evaporate in less time than it takes to flip a dimmer switch.


I had hoped to cut through Dick Heckmans pink abode but thought twice since there were a couple of guys both twice my size holding fort although they could have simply been holding hands. They looked though very much English with their red necks ballooning out almost touching the sand as out of work “pheasants” [sic] like me had to crawl down the rocks. It really is quite comical to see some of these folks laying out in their lounge chairs with their “private property” signs blocking their view as the rest of us get to enjoy what is nothing more than a Punch & Judy show.


The other day Marie who wants for nothing, her basic needs met and her basic instincts “weigh” [sic] above average did, however, comment that she liked the house of the founder of U.S. Filter who although overpaying for the 42,000 odd thousand acres located in the IID from the Bass Brothers of Texas did still manage to make for himself and the rest of his gang nothing short of a killing when they eventually sold their business, “lock, stock and barrel” to the French “terrorest” [sic] conglomerate, Vivendi along with a board seat on Vivendi Environmental although as one examines ever so carefully the business of the French aristocracy they most likely were interested in the brand name Culligan Man that constitutes if nothing else a good calling card when wanting to make appointments with say a Governor of the 5th largest economy in the “wor.d” [sic] who has his head up his ass with his hand fully extended demanding contributions galore.


Now take a deep breath, relax there is more exciting stuff up ahead and the last thing I would want is to lose one of my best friends as we get close to the finish line.


It was as you may know the all-important Imperial Irrigation District which helped coast Governor Davis once again back into the California State house to mention just in passing the critical tasks incumbent upon folks who sit on the omnipotent California Coastal Commission to be of the highest order, integrity to boot. Marie doesn’t seem to quite like Heckman’s imposing monster as much as the single level wood structure she has an eye on just a little further south down the coast. By the way, I don’t think I have even mentioned the name Heckman to Marie. She is probably just wondering why it has taken me so long to “apply 4” [sic] unemployment.


On the way over I couldn’t help but notice a sign on the back of a bus that read, BAN THE BLAND. In one of my recent footnotes I go on at “sum” [sic] length about all the 4 lettered words that end with the letters AND.


I wore our one prototype t-shirt to Jonathan’s baseball game yesterday morning that wasn’t quite the washout of the previous week. Today he is trying out for a higher level of Lacrosse although he appears to still be recovering from his “run in” with a tree that left him with two stripes on his forehead much like the Blue Jays over at Stonehenge II. It is now approaching 8:30pm PST and I am [at] the Wild Note Café in Solana Beach. I spoke a little earlier with Marie who tells me Jonathan is still in one piece and performed like the trooper he is.


Not only did Jonathan’s baseball team win yesterday but the head coach who wasn’t around the previous week to make the all-important call of calling off the game as the heavens unleashed their spirits, returned with a vengeance. There were smiles all the way round especially amongst those of us high up in the bleaches where I happened to have been sitting next to a kid who decided to test his neck muscles while “monk-eying” [sic] up and down the back end of the structure and of course we have now reached the final quarter mark in the race for the Kingdom of Heaven, of that I am certain.


Jonathan’s smiling face with terrific front teeth never to make fun of should soon appear on the website in full color assuming everyone gets with the program, sequencing a horrible thing to interfere with especially when we all know by now that the problems of the world have nothing whatsoever to do with race, color or religion, simply poor parental religious teaching.


While enjoying one incredible morning basking in the sun with the sea breeze whispering sweet blessings I managed to conduct an informal focus group while running my unified theory of the mathematical workings of the universe against a non-practicing physician who may possibly have come up with the same conclusions independent of me. More importantly was the reaction of the not altogether poor parents sitting in the stand that at the high point is no more than a meter or so taller than me but enough to bring the house down if a kid were in fact to break his-her neck to mention little of the lawsuits that will come in from left field, no need though to beat around the bush.


No one worth their salt at this time has managed to poke a hole in Marie’s idea although she seems to be her worst and of course best critic while coming up with idea after idea including suggesting that I take a scissor and go at will through her wardrobe. Now I might have that idea a little mixed up with what my neighbor Sammy “Tell me everything” Haim said occurred at his neighbor’s house when an “intruder” entered and started snipping away at his buddy’s ties, making off much later with a massive TV without any of the neighborhood dogs lifting an eyelid to mention little of Sammy “Tittle Talle Boy” [sic] Haim not calling the police when out of nowhere sheets appeared covering his buddy’s windows and whathaveyou?


Of course all Pypeetoe would have done had we been around to watch this inside job would have been to simply pee. My dog remains to this day, all feet, no bark to his teeth and afraid of the dark. Now of course I cannot say for certain that old Sammy’s buddy who has a history according to Sammy of ripping off investors was involved himself in what turned out to be a $40K odd insurance claim that allowed youngster Mark to head off to the orient, but given everything that Sammy told us all about his pal I wouldn’t be surprised if in fact close-buddy Mark put the curtains up himself as he went about making out a claim according to Sammy, “Can’t hold my tongue” Haim, “Just a former investor pal-s upset-setup” [sic] wouldn’t you agree Sammy boy?


And of course Sammy is copied on this e-mail as well as some of his pals who may have been responsible for repossessing the Black Mercedes that was for a period of several months in the possession of the Twins who gave some dire warnings about the nature of the folks behind the rigging of the recent Gubernatorial elections, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Mark Weinstein who is also copied on this e-mail. Mark Weinstein is not related to either Dan Weinstein of Wetherly Capital or Judge Jack Weinstein the famous New York Federal Judge. Mr. Weinstein is, however, a former prosecutor and knows Mr. Dan Weinstein rather well although not perhaps as well as Ms. Vicky Schiff a one-time business partner of Mr. Mark Weinstein, literally and pejoratively speaking. Mr. Weinstein has built up a rather impressive real estate portfolio through hard work and creative financing used by those fixated on dying the richest people in the grave.


It is, however, all about “free will”, that it takes a mighty hand to hold bad folks in check in order that we carry out the will of God who provided as part of each of our inheritance individual “free will” that should allow everyone to breath easy and not wait for their loved one to inevitably die and why it makes no sense in the world to leave anyone [family member] anything but a good name and a few trinkets collected along the way.


Each one of us pays a “heavenly price” when we fail to stand up to those who usurp the powers granted by our fellow man. When man breaks man’s laws and we choose to do nothing we have no one to blame but ourselves; sticking our nose in the sand, hoping that God will wave his magic hand is nothing more than wishful thinking. We know from Pythagoras that science is God’s gift for each one of us to take mysticism and superstition out of the equation, i.e. his “This and this equals that” should have been sufficient proof of the existence of God given the fact that this great mathematician never dwelled on the negatives.


Maries idea, however, is a way for everyone to save face, especially those relatively few in number who have been rapacious and who now simply want to adorn their walls with fine art and of course I think we will find kids all over the world who could come up with a number of spiritual looking stuff that would make my adversaries think twice about mucking with me, the crap they “stick-up” on the wall all geared toward distracting the masses. Some might even come up with a better way to measure words than my Guidance tTOo.


And of course Marie has quite a say in the way this all plays out. She has though a whole lot more confidence in Devin Standard to execute than me who she thinks has nothing more to worry about other than keeping The Cave tidy, nothing whatsoever to do with her recent call-to-arms to her ex-husband to clean up his act. Marie though, independent of any of my suggestions that have led to her financial independence, which, in my opinion makes her capable of more than affording her own private jet, is like my former travel companion of some 10 years, somewhat disinterested in material things although God only knows what I would do if in fact Marie decided to throw out my laptop computer. She is really into a sweeping binge right now which is a whole lot better than if she were to decide to go on the bottle.


You may recall I had offered my pal Newell Starks a “double or quits” bet in the event Marie purchased a jet within the year that first got her ex-husband during their 13-year-olds birthday to almost have a stroke and of course you know where that all led to including the San Diego Police Department as well as the FBI deciding to pay me a visit in no small measure the result of Dr. Stewart’s decision a couple of months later to go to war with me, September 11th, 2002, to be precise.


Now of course Marie is an absolute tea-toddler compared to most South African women I know nor for that matter is she in to gambling given her uncanny ability to calculate the odds perhaps as good as Mr. King Golden who is one of the best although I have only seen him display this aspect of his dna while at the race track. I have often wondered why smart people gamble at anything let alone horseracing where no matter how good you are when calculating the odds right before the race begins it is all butt impossible to impute a high enough risk factor when it comes to an often rigged event, to mention little of putting dog bone in the mouth of horse, no doubt where the expression “to kick a gift horse in the mouth” had it’s meager beginnings.


My plan, however, calls for the best and the brightest folks to surround Devin Standard in “his bid” for the White House which I think should wait for our great president to step aside although Secretary Rumsfeld who deserves all the credit in the world for telling the truth, that this war has nothing whatsoever to do with oil, a point I think I have covered rather well in another of my ever expanding footnotes that folks will read in due course. Devin, though has yet to confirm that he is even interested in being [in] a position that calls for the most trusted person on this planet to rule with an ever so delicate hand.


During yesterday’s baseball game David Isaacs was once again at the command post keeping score just like a friend of mine in South Africa by the name of Vaughan Moss who kept score of our school’s cricket games. Vaughan though had the unfortunate experience of losing a couple of fingers, perhaps as many as three while in the South African Military and I assume despite his aptitude for woodwork, perhaps the best amongst us kids, he too would have found another calling. David Isaacs seems to me to be on top of his game as he along with the rest of the parents yelled the kids on to victory; Jonathan’s mother, Marie Dion Stewart, clearly the most vocal albeit in the most amazing French-English accent imaginable, knowing even less though than I do about this rather boring game, which is what the one Laker super-whiz-kid once said.


As long as Jonathan likes the game I will, however, continue to encourage him to play his best although I know he would make an unbelievable rugby player. One parent supporting me in my debate with Marie commented, “Don’t’ forget that with rugby you get to appreciate at a young age the taste of beer


Marie though is really coming into her own as she is not only bright, can draw precise, but she has got the values down and now it is just a matter of time before she gets the color mixing right to mention little of the importance of technique in applying color that comes only with experience. The artwork, however, that adorns her bedroom now has her flying high with or without me being a factor, never to confuse needs with wants, no better feeling than to simply want someone and to hell with needy people who get a charge out of upsetting others.[2]


Earlier yesterday morning before heading out to the baseball game I met briefly with a mother of a 13-year-old girl who dropped her kid off at the house to play with Danielle. It turns out that this mother of two has spent her entire career in charity drives. I did my best not to drive her nuts but I couldn’t hold back my surprise when she informed me that “soft money” cannot be used to support the pay of school personnel which is something like “80% of a school’s budget… Soft monies are not predictable.”


Soft money in the public school system apparently are monies that don’t come from the government. When I asked her how predictable was the current $25 billion plus California budget deficit, a number that most experts expect to increase rather than decrease with more, rather than less unpredictability in the twisting road up ahead, I seemed to take her breath away, obviously though not quite what happened with Mrs. Francis of the Del Mar Hills elementary school who by contacting Jonathan’s father may have tortuously interfered with my business. Over the course of the next few days I will monitor the situation ever so closely. Ms. Francis should have received a rather precise E-mail from Ms. Marie Dion Stewart.


I will have my lawyers confirm this with her in short order.


Marie is both my “travel companion” as well as my business partner as well as being the great mother of two children who I hope won’t have to suffer any further anguish. The truth though, is something none of us can escape [from] indefinitely especially when it is written so clearly in text as what occurred on September 11th 2002 and our court victory some 6 weeks later although sweet came after 6 weeks of absolute hell knowing full well how sick the rapacious out-of-control people her ex-husband had surrounded himself with would ultimately be blamed for the debacle that ultimately befell him.


It is though just a matter of time before both kids find out the truth and like many kids who have been lied to and deceived by their parents, when they do find out some of the dirty little secrets that directly bare on them they react at times rather violently and violence doesn’t necessarily have to result in blood shed, at times simply brain matter failing to ignite.


I am forever reminded of a good friend of mine whose father-in-law lied about his military past and when the truth finally emerged all members of the family suffered but none more so than the grandchildren of Larry Lawrence, the Ambassador to Switzerland during the Clinton Administration who was allowed by those around him to get away with nothing short of murder. 


The other evening just as I was completing my e-mail to Mrs. Francis another very well put together lady, Toni Cieri, without the big diamond, showed up at the Ill Fornio bar commenting on how well dressed I happened to be and of course I told her about my all-important meeting with Ms. Francis the principal of the Del Mar Hills elementary school who replaced a very well liked Mr. Wilson who thought nothing of placing himself in the middle of the street while directing traffic as opposed to someone who stands on the sidelines but who is apparently one hellava terrific joke teller coming up each and every day with a new joke to tell her students. I cannot wait to hear the joke that is pitched when addressing why some 20% of her staff failed to attract sufficient “hard money.” I assume Mr. Wilson who recently returned to the school to provide the youngsters with a sex education class went on to a higher paying job?


The first and only time I had previously met Ms. Cieri was when she tried to get the listing on Marie’s house and I was in my “buying mode” and of course I  buy into very little BS, hence the popularity of


Marie appears to be more and more convinced that my primary reason for suggesting she sell her house was simply to test market the reaction of the website and of course there is some truth to that. When need be I am not only capable of wearing a suit, dressing the part but more importantly I am capable of drawing on 21 odd years of my mother’s charm school lessons. For the greater part of my teenager life my bedroom was located right above her “garage studio” in our house. Although soundproofed the air-conditioning duct provided a very clear channel.


Although I never took notes I was not only able to grab the finer points of my mother’s most eloquent prose but it helped train my mind to think in reverse as in, “Buttocks tightened, stomach in, shoulders back, Head up” to mention little of what teachers and principals in any other country in the world would be doing right now if their leader had cut off their legs below the knee. In other words they would in no uncertain terms be giving their Governor a “heads up” followed by mass strikes with knuckleballs to boot.


Suffice to say, at age 15 my step-father left school in order to support his family. His “ rich uncle” [sic] thought it a smart enough decision to lend him the bucks that kick-started a not altogether small but yet profitable enough business that when it came time for Alan Zulman to show up at my mother’s doorstep with a credit card in hand he was not only warmly accepted but my mother probably cooked him a kosher meal to boot. I assume by now you have read the article about the mad hatters?


By the way it was Alan Zulman who provided me with the letter of introduction to David Isaacs, the former president of Hang Ten. Despite the favorable impression I made on his boss, Stan Foster who ran his family’s rather successful clothing business, Ratner Corporation, I only got to meet David just a few years ago at one of Jeffrey Krinsk’s one of a kind parties. In due course I will be contacting the lawfirm in San Francisco who my uncle David Gevisser used while helping liquidate the estate of  Charles Engelhard a horseman extraordinaire to mention little of his company Minerals and Chemicals Co. of Newark, New Jersey which at one time controlled the world's supply of platinum. I eagerly look forward to the autobiography of Thabo Mbeki, South Africa’s current prime minister which is being compiled by David’s son, Mark Gevisser, our most literate cousin.


I am taking the liberty of copying a good friend of mine, Tony Leon, who happens to the leader of the only opposition party in South Africa who has the intestinal fortitude to hold the ANC in check. When I last visited South Africa back in 1995 to assist in the sale of a relatively small but vital trade show company, vital that is in combating the lack of entrepreneurial spirit in South Africa, Tony found the time to relax and enjoy with me the best that South Africa has to offer including a bird’s eye view of the most beautiful women in the world parading below my familys apartment overlooking Clifton 2nd Beach in Cape Town.


There was one young lady in particular who had quite an amazing figure although not quite as good as my one “travel companion” who I suspect will be difficult to convince to “show case” the latest “madness” design on top of a sheer piece of fabric placed over the torn section of a t-shirt that is in the process of being constructed today and whathaveyou? Fad, fashion, fact.


As you may know Mr. George Hurst Esq. who is copied on this e-mail tried to use that [2nd tTOo] last hyperlink photo to intimidate Marie in to joining forces with her ex-husband as he used his two children as a shield against me, no different to what Saddam Hussein is doing that is causing our casualties to mount. And of course I continue to place Mr. George Hurst as well as the 2 of 3 crybabies on notice that they and their comrade Dr. Stewart had all better think twice before ever again doing something stupid, never forgetting however, it was Dr. Stewart, Marie’s ex-husband, who filed a false and misleading complaint against me “under penalty of perjury.”


The fact that the former President of the United States managed to “buy” his way out of being driven out of office, despite lying “under penalty of perjury” is not lost on me nor for that matter is the possibility of us using this “sheer madness” clothing concept to get all those who have committed wrong, who have usurped the power of their limited authority from makings amends, i.e. make worthy charitable contributions to schools around the world so that they have the funds to employ properly trained teachers to empower the kids to parent the parents who need the most help. Those individuals and any organizations they hide behind who, however, have done me personally wrong will pay the price directly to me and/or my heirs.


John, I recall you once asking me to explain to you in more detail an event that took place when King Golden Jr, now a good friend of Dr. Stewart, a lady by the name of Valerie Schulte a lawyer for the “BAN” [sic] and I once visited Mexico in my jeep. As you know NAB is the acronym for the National Association of Blabbermouths aka National Association of Broadcasters and of course Ms. Schulte is also copied on this e-mail.


Suffice to say after an “act of God” intervention that would have had all 3 of us possibly locked away for an indefinite amount of time a direct consequence of Mr. Golden not being able to leave home without his stash of pot, both Mr. Golden and Ms. Schulte didn’t take long to direct me to a Roman Catholic Church where the two of them knelt and prayed and of course there were many tears while I simply paged through Howard Stern’s first best seller, a book they ridiculed to “know end” [sic].


I thought though that when their leader, Bill Clinton, came to power in large measure the result of their grass roots effort, the first thing they would insist, the leader of the Free World, in addition to taking a deep breath of fresh air, smoke a joint if necessary, come to terms that now was the time to stand up for all those young Catholic boys who continued to be abused by the elders of their church, an organization that had simply morphed from the Roman Empire that never really collapsed. Could it be that the drugs these folks did during the 60s screwed up their memory patterns and while you are at it have you any idea of where the word “morph” originated?


Again, I have nothing against homosexuals. Twice now I have hired homosexuals to run my bed and breakfast café in England and of course my cousin Mark Gevisser, David Gevisser’s “sun” [sic] was the first of the Gevisser homosexuals to come out of the closet. This time though the two gentleman in charge of Ccrest understand all too well that my main order of business is to run a restaurant that caters to all groups including “brainne dead” [sic] South Africans assuming they dress right and their go.d is pure.


I learned many positive things from both Mr. Golden as well as Ms. Schulte but the one that stands me in the greatest stead today is Valerie’s lessons about the billboard industry due to her intimate familiarity with Ted Turner dealing with his bankers when he was being pushed against the wall, although apparently he simply threatened to jump out of the window of a high rise if they continued to insist he stop acting like any spoiled brat.


I learned however, the greatest lesson from Mr. Golden who because of his pride failed to act mad during the 1972 Democratic primaries. Their negatives, particularly Mr. Golden’s, far outweigh the positives including my last meeting with Mr. Golden when he saw nothing wrong in leaving a bagful of recently cut pot on top of his garden table that his youngest son played with as though it was a bagful of tricks.


I made mention in my previous email about the “pelican and the lion” story Mr. Golden imparted to me that talks to a pelican coming across a lion with a fish bone caught in his mouth and the lion offers the pelican half his kingdom if the pelican were to reach in and pull out the bone which of course the pelican obliges since it wouldn’t be any skin off his nose. After doing the good deed, the pelican then asks for his half of the kingdom and the lion replies, “Which half? You are lucky you got away with your life?” Mr. Golden is not known as one of the great joke tellers and it caused me to stop dead in my tracks. At that very moment a train came brushing past and fortunately I was able to concentrate about other things of matter.


Mr. Golden’s poor taste came about when one of my former clients, Irving Cooper, who is now deceased provided the necessary capital that resulted in the company where Mr. Golden was general counsel, deciding to “string out” Mr. Cooper whose funding played a pivotal role in this laser company winning a [million dollar +++] patent infringement lawsuit against Westinghouse, the current owner of CBS which may have something to do with 60 Minutes failing to call.


Mr. Cooper was starting to get up in years and didn’t quite have the vigor he had when he chose to provide the seed capital for people like Michael Steinhardt of Steinhardt Partners fame perhaps the most successful hedge fund in Wall Street history, another story in a litany of stories that will be told in my Manager Minute One that talks to how we are duty bound from the word go to not only make the most of what we are gifted but never to let anyone no matter from which side of the tracks they emerge to throw you off balance, what goes around comes around but in earth’s atmosphere there is nothing I know that suggests man cannot return as an ant or in the case of Michael Steinhardt just another bottom fisher.


And of course we all have to thank God for little fishes although I mostly thank God for allowing some idiot to carve out of the cliffs the Del Mar railroad tracks that allow people like me and my good friend Gene to enjoy the views to mention little of how in the spring we take pleasure in the beautiful plant life. 


Which reminds me of [a] deal Mr. Cooper once did that I was not involved with whenever I go to make a pee and open up the fly of [my] one pair of pants that is Velcro fastened I am reminded of this one story that always brings a smile to my face. In a play to take on the boys who controlled the Velcro brand Mr. Cooper rented a suite in the Pierre Hotel in New York and developed fancy brochures of a competitive product that although superior in every respect including its low cost structure could never have survived if the Velcro boys decided to apply all their muscle under-pricing their own product in order to maintain market share. Armed with just a patent and a great view overlooking Central Park Mr. Cooper played a poker hand that made him a little more than a buck or tTOo.


I have never been a poker player but I know how to count tricks, better yet to assess peoples strengths and weaknesses and it also helps having a head for numbers. I know more than a thing or two about the very dirty tricks played by folks in both the Republican as well as the Democratic Party the main difference though is the Republicans believe in less government while the Democrats are hell bent on impressing upon the masses that bigger government protects them, so much for Governor Davis and his ever meek bunch of supporters, and yes those teachers who voted for him will soon hopefully hit the streets and demand more answers. It is a terrible thing to co-opt people into your conspiracy something I believe is far more prevalent amongst liberals as opposed to conservatives who promote more self-reliance who may not, however, debate as well as the Yale, Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard et al pricks. 


In due course though I hope to provide some measure of support to all but none more so than those back “home” in South Africa as Perfect Storm XI picks up steam. To many the world may appear to be on fire but once folks see that there is in fact a way out of this mess they will get to realize how easy it really is to bring things back into balance, that e=mc² is not only proof of evolution but more importantly it is evidence of “God’s hand.”


The variable in m, as in mass, is switched with the constant associated with c, as in the speed of light, as we move from the medium of earth’s atmosphere in to the vacuum of space and of course even an intellectual midget knows, Quantum Mechanics is fundamentally about “back dNA forth” [sic], forwards as well as in  reverse and of course if one can make that point in a language that most people are wanting to speak, it is just a question of time before one has a brand, ever so careful to label anyone a schmuck unless one has proof and of course the better the evidence the better the proof.


It is, however, up to each one of us to make the necessary shift in order that we become one or face the inevitable reaction of that which occurs when matter and anti-matter cancel out to zero. The Red Shift is proof positive that the speed of light does in fact change in a vacuum if for no other reason than the fact that we know that the other galaxies out there are moving away from us at an accelerating rate. We also know that in a vacuum mass remains constant, that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, nothing is lost nor for that matter is anything gained. Energy as in e, is therefore directly impacted by any change in light much like what occurs with a dimmer switch or as dictated in the Old Testament, “Let there be light.”


And so the inevitable conclusion is one that suggests nothing more than the “hand of God” that ever so gently “twists” things about much like the two bands within the dNa and all that is needed is a messenger as in RNA or tTOo to set things on the straight and narrow. As one twists the “scratchings” on the Blombos Cave Rock one finds more than a helix, a color wheel where the values remain constant unless interfered with by man.


One has no choice “butt to switch things around in order to keep things in balance or to have a willingness to engage evil whenever one sees it” [sic]. And it begins with zero toleration when it comes to those who lie, steal and cheat, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Golden?


I will no longer be including Lisa Foster, the late Stan Foster’s daughter on my e-mail list as she is now a superior court judge and the last thing I would want is to have someone who not only has an impeccable reputation but who happens to be the best friend of a woman who means the world to me, possibly being conflicted out, even if her appointment-election had something to do with Governor Gray Davis whose days are numbered just like any of ours; but those who have a checker board past have few choices at this time unless they feel they can truly beat me when I am at my best.


Rather than play a chess game that will have at least one of us losing I suggest my opponents who number so few do the right thing and send me an E-mail that states very clearly how they intend to make amends. In less than 3 hours I will turn 46 and soon I will take the position to heck with my “going slow” in order to win a $32 “double or quits” bet with Mr. Jeffrey Krinsk Esq., gong show to boot.  


John, please continue to keep me on my feet, “toes to wiggle, astrophysicists to boot to high heaven, their world no longer Godly, and naturally no wiggle room for those that lurk in the shadows” [sic].





Ps – I will reread this email for the first time tomorrow and if corrections are needed I will make the appropriate changes.



-----Original Message-----
From: John Pollard

Sent: Friday, March 21, 2003 7:43 PM
To: Gary S. Gevisser
Subject: To whom it may concern


Any effort to turn wearable (garment) art into a profit engine is sheer madness.







[1] The tTOo children of my significant other have birthdays each one occurring on rather special days, the youngest, her boy, on 09-03 and the eldest, her girl, on 07-06. In the Jewish religion boys come of age at age 13 and girls at age 12.


[2] Lately she has apparently been made aware of wires surrounding the landscape.