To: Harvey Kochen Esq. Mr. Freeman, Mr. Aguirre et al at MONEX

Subject: Intellectual Prostitution and the Bottom line - Perfect Storm XXVII continues.






Marie Dion Stewart [Mds] informs me that she is still waiting for the return of her monies. So what’s the hold up?


Please don’t push matters to the point where we will have to start thinking about “inking” cartoon characters that talk to the “make up” job that goes on in boiler rooms as momworker63s, widows, orphans and pensioners become unglued, i.e. get separated from their lifesavings by fast talking salesmen who learned the tricks of their trade by attorneys who suffer from verbal diarrhea while hiding behind corporate veils, bookworms to boot.


This is not a veiled threat but a promise that I will do my utmost to get you folks to do the right thing. At we are working on alternative ways to balance out those who chew on others by proposing that everyone from age 3 onwards start thinking more in terms of “Verbal [non-sic] remedies for saving the wor.d” [sic, i.e. enough of the nonsense that it is “The meek who shall inherit the earth” that the most important thing to be schooled in right from the start is to always tell the truth.


Just a few days ago a Shareholder Class-Action Lawsuit [SCAL] settlement with Ronald “The Finagle King” Perelman was “inked.” Mr. “O. Ring”, as I prefer to refer to the biggest gangster in the history of Wall Street, certainly I know of no one more rapacious, is not exactly sitting in the pound seats despite buying back shares in his flagship Revlon and paying as high as $7.20 per share well after the SCAL lawsuit was filed thinking it would throw the SCALLYs [Shareholder Class-Action Lawsuit Lawyers] off his trail to mention little of what sets me in motion.


Remember, Perelman is a “Warton” [sic] Business School Graduate who knows a hot-looking thing when he sees it yet throws “good money” after bad, fearful no doubt of how my BUSchooling is catching on with audiences around the world to mention just in passing Mr. Bigelow from the San Diego Union Tribune being so nice enough to travel this past Friday all the way out to my “Stonehenge” rock cabin in the mountains to test the water; Perfect Storm III well underway, precious metals on the rise although one should never hoard let alone go overboard as was the case with a cyclist who came a cropper while heading down a pass towards my neck of the woods just off Sunrise highway this past Saturday and a chopper had to eventually airlift him to safety. He was pretty badly bust up.


Like with my writings there was method to Mr. Perelman’s madness including bringing on board his “chew chew train” the likes of Martha “Pitched Fork[1]” Stewart who bailed out at $6.36 a share just a week or so before her medical doctor friend gave her the “heads up” on “Im-clone” to mention just a “wee byte” about who Governor Davis met with a day or so later, bearing Xmess gifts that set in motion a string of events that will help unravel all the kuk that has been building up for centuries as the rich and powerful stick it to the masses, Vivendi to boot.


Thank God though for the French Canadians who by mixing in well with the indigenous Indians produced a superstar or tTOo[2].


Unlike me, Perelman wasn’t all that well polished at the start let alone capable of keeping track of things that matter most. I am prone to losing things like keys and wallets but so far no one has yet demonstrated the intestinal fortitude let alone the evidence that would have me committed to the loony house.


Perelman like the folks from[3] remains caught between the rock and a hard plate and just trust me it isn’t fun chewing on an empty plate no matter how fine the crystal or placemat settings. 


People don’t make doormats out of you, you make a doormat out of yourself. Fine tuning “bubbles” has been another of my many fascinations from an early age butt don’t think for a moment that I can’t tell the difference between someone blowing smoke and someone simply out of tune with reality that begins in no small measure when one is still a babe in arms.


Bubbles are very telling and yesterday while enjoying a “stark” [sic] stout over at the Coronado Hotel I experienced an optical illusion as the bubbles appeared to be defying gravity, moving down the glass as the head took form. The fish, as you know, does rot from the head down and nowhere is it more apparent than what I experienced dealing with you folks from MOANEX.


In due course I will be addressing an “ex” who too likes to moan a lot while pushing things to the limit although he now says he is looking for “piece and quiet” [sic]. Nothing like being out in the ocean all by oneself to get to know oneself, let alone caught without a paddle having but one life vest[4] that has more than one hole. The sum of the parts may make up more than a hole but all hell can break loose if one doesn’t take care of one’s oval shaped organs to mention little of what’s in store after living an unholy existence when God after downloading all the kuk you have accumulated decides to return you to earth as say a small little fish to serve the starving masses.


On the other hand there is nothing quite like being in the ocean when everything is in sync, the sun, the wind, the currents which equal climate but it can be a hell hole if just one part of the equation decides to KISS off others while focused on drawing perfect circles that don’t exist in nature for a very good reason; the ends meet when one is so bent over that one can do nothing short of kissing one’s ass goodbye. Double jointed folks are the ones having the most fun, Cirque de Sole a masterpiece as well.


Please take careful notes as the Perfect Storms on the NextraTerrestrial array of websites gain strength and unite. The ocean is one of the greatest washing machines imaginable but first one needs to be alive to appreciate its virtues and respect its powers. Being brainne dead also has severe consequences.


Now get with the program, stop with playing the “float” game and take a close look at what happens to folks like Professor Aaron Brown of who continues to think he can outrun Perfect Storm XIII. Right now if nothing else he is on a crash course diet.


Now go do the “write” thing and don’t give me that nonsense about my having “power of attorney” to set you folks on a course to recovery.


Take care.


Gary S. Gevisser


Ps – By now you folks should have managed to have at least page shifted through the 380 page deposition taken by Mr. “Circle” K, a skilled and experienced attorney who my dog happens to take a “licking” [sic] to. Let me know if you think anything should be added to the “Pinkie” notes, never forgetting the last note on page 378, the month and year I arrived in the U.S. No doubt you can appreciate why Mr. Perelman chose ever so smartly to have his SCALs settle matters rather promptly after this rather ingenious deposition than run the risk of having me continue to light more fires behind his rotting anus. I am very proud to be an American with all the civil liberties in place and my faculties stored along with my ever-expanding assets securely deposited to take on the remaining gangsters out there as well as those who have inherited their ill-gotten gains.





[1] I am still looking for that picture I saw on TV of Martha holding a pitched fork.


[2] You might be interested to know that I have now received two notices from the Department of Animal Control regarding a “humane” complaint filed about by “God” [sic]. You can imagine how the person who reported the supposed abuse of my dog is going to respond to the knuckleball I will be throwing him-her to mention little of “Maggie” the desk operator at “Animal House Control” [sic] who seemed to like my take on the benefits of having humans on leashes and to let the dogs take over, “the world is going to the dogs, wouldn’t you agree?”  


One of my attorney-colleagues thinks it may be a good idea if I kept the number of “King Stahlman” a rather well known bail bondsman on me at all times. My dog might whine a lot when I am not with him which happens once in blue moon but I don’t think there are that many dogs out there who get to travel “first class” to places like Machu Picchu or who eat New England Clam chowder shipped in from the Fish Market on Via de la Valle or who eat triple A rated prime rib coming from the most expensive butcheries on the west coast of the United States where some folks soon might be thinking of selling their offspring given what it is going to cost to raise a kid. Even some Del Martians are getting worried and have started to put up their houses for sale.


No doubt some folks not as well equipped as my “travel companion” with her art to boot might in balancing their budgets simply decide to donate an arm and/or a leg of their first born thinking it might save on the grocery bill, wouldn’t you agree?


Trust me when I tell you many folks who live in rich circles are going more nuts than ever before and hopefully some will decide to show up at the “open house” we are having next Sunday and pay the “asking price” just to be rid of us. Love you America.


One last point about my dog. It is possible that my one neighbor Sam had something to do with calling the folks from Animal Control as he must have been surprised to see that I was still occupying to some degree, The Cave thinking perhaps that he might get custody of this animal that could generate around $10K per day in renting him for commercial shoots, something I know a little about and then some.


[3] The website is currently down but that shouldn’t result in either Professor Aaron Brown or his benefactor Melvyn Weiss of “Milberg Weiss Bershad Hynes and Leroach” [sic] escaping the firestorm that will have a new leader elected of the “rat pack.”


Not all attorneys are rogues nor does it mean that just because Mr. “Circle” K doesn’t have to use Rogaine he has lost his teeth. I know more than a handful of men with a full head of hair who still have loads of testosterone running through their veins.


Sifting the “wheaties” from the chaff is not, however, for the feint of heart. Once, however, we get our arms around “Supersex fruitflies” the so-called Drosophila males who have an unnatural XXY chromosome triplet and are called Supersex mutants where the extra X is redundant, God knows what benefits will emerge for all mankind and it shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.


Pears are important like the 2 females Ys where neither is redundant since the pair is the normal condition like with Arms, Legs, and other things that come in pairs. The drosophila are a popular species for genetic studies because they have very short generation times and superlarge chromosomes.  The Supersex males are actually feeble mutants with no competitive advantage at all, as if women didn’t already know this.

[4] Check out the back page to the Hot Water Wars article in the Forbes June 10th 2002 issue.