A couple of quick hits

I took this shot of Joy when Angela Silva sued us.

Now if I can just get my damn rifle back from her...

Those of us who endured life in the spiritually superior tenement ghetto operated by Angela Silva and Robin Dumolin know the conditions there were less than heavenly.  In fact, it could be downright brutal at times, dodging the bullets fired from gang member's cheap Chinese guns and putting up with the strange proclivities of the Spiritual Rights Foundation elite confinement center. 

One of the former residents there wasn't a member of this wacky cult.  She wasn't even really seen as a member of the human race - which, I guess means Angela and Robin saw her just like they see the cult members.

Anyway, this resident was disabled and entitled to Social Security Section 8 housing assistance.  Under that program, the Social Security Agency will pay for her housing as long as that housing meets certain requirements - like it's got to be at least free from vermin and in decent (but not perfect) repair.

While this resident had odd personality traits that made her a hell of a lot more interesting at a distance - a long distance, than in a one-on-one conversation, she was still entitled to a decent, vermin-free, safe and reasonably comfortable apartment by federal law and common human decency.

Well, in Angela Silva's book: "perverse and inhuman things I should get away with because I want to, so go fuck yourself if you think I'm being cruel", page one reads: "No matter what kind of evil shit I make you endure, keep your goddamn mouth shut or I will find a way to make things even worse for you."

I guess it's lucky the resident didn't bother to read that book.

As the windows were broken, the heater leaked gas and mice overran her small apartment, the resident decided something had better be done about it.  If Angela Silva was notified, there certainly wasn't enough done to correct anything.  More likely, there wasn't a thing done.  Eventually, the appropriate inspectors of the local housing authority were contacted and the decrepit apartment scheduled for inspection.

As nothing gets Angela's attention than the thought of men in black suits and dark glasses emerging from their black helicopters carrying attache cases containing secret government documents, the troops were mustered to provide a day of free labor to restore Angela's rat-hole into a living space fit for human habitation.

After a day or so, the apartment was pretty much restored to near-decency but some of the previous tenants were still lurking around the apartment - mice.

The was was completed just before the arrival of the inspector so it would look new and as good as the semi-skilled slave labor could have made it.  I guess they never thought that new construction and repair in an otherwise old apartment is a dead giveaway that something was amiss and further inspection would be warranted.  At least, that's what those who inspect buildings would think.  Actually, that what my dad thought as he conducted building inspections.  New construction in an old building screamed either there was a careful re-mod or someone was covering up a really bad problem.  In Angela's case, the word "careful" got torn out of the dictionary.

The inspector found most of the repairs to be adequate but noticed there were excessive rodent droppings throughout the apartment and ordered this deficiency be corrected.  A follow-up inspection was scheduled.

As usual, Angela and her cult-addled followers attempted the cheap "solution" that constituted nothing more than a cover-up.

The day before the follow-up inspection, culties invaded the apartment, sweeping up mouse droppings, cleaning up drawers and lining them with paper towels, having the certainty their efforts to deceive the housing inspector would be a success.

Of course in the cult world, any event you imagine is one you can see happen in real life.  The culties went to their homes conducting the psychotic work necessary to visualize the housing inspector being absolutely tricked and that no mice would appear in the 24 hours before the inspection.

Nice thought.

After the culties finished their evil work, the resident brought out her secret weapon: a bag of mouse droppings saved from weeks before.

The resident proceeded to place her saved mouse droppings back in exactly the places the culties cleaned them from.

The next day, the inspector arrived.  While the cult's "property manager" and disciplinary goon looked on with an evil grin and far-too-confident attitude, the inspector proceed to take a peek at the areas that were noted as rodent-infested.

The goon's grin faded faster than Robin Dumolin's memories of human decency.  Mouse droppings were again noted by the inspector and once again, corrections were ordered.

The cult goon, now dejected, trudged back to SRF headquarters to report to Angela and Robin, for a session of bending over and asking for more.

You'd think Angela would have just given up her web of deception and resolved to do the right thing - like address the rodent problem (which was being experienced by many of the residents).  Angela's solution was to withdraw from the SSA Section 8 housing program and begin eviction proceedings on the tenant who only wanted a living space without mice.

It seems habit for Angela Silva to use a complex and expensive solution like legal action to resolve a problem ten bucks worth of mouse traps could have solved  - like her losing the lawsuit she filed against me instead of spending money on an effective PR campaign.  

I'd tell her to use the mouse traps to clamp her damn mouth shut.

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It seems the Spiritual Rights Foundation's toilet flush just keeps going and going and going.

I have heard through channels (which is how we all hear things from this spiritual cesspool) six people have left the confines of this demented, dysfunctional and otherwise ineffective den of spiritual iniquity since the bishop became the ex-bishop.

I can guess who may have hit the road.  Perhaps you might take a guess at who is left?  I would imagine they would be some of the older members.  It looks like there are only three unfortunate souls left there.

So, is that all who's left?  THREE GODDAMN PEOPLE?

How in the hell did this organization go from a robust and energetic congregation of committed ministers and students to a pathetic, motley crew of three - one of whom has become too bedraggled by health concerns and age to snap to attention when whipped, another who has been beaten so long, he doesn't care anymore and one more who complains about his lazy and apathetic colleagues to his imaginary friend - in the course of a fairly short time?

Oh right, it's a cult.  My bad...