Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Death & Destruction = Divorce

Normally, a divorce is not particularly amusing, however after 30 years minus one day since the last time I saw either my wife or sons, some parts are blackly amusing.

Buying new Mercedes for five shysters in three states (the sixth shyster was a friend of mine) is kinda rough on a fella, especially since he knows that there are certain "givens" in a divorce and he is gonna be doing the giving! The wife is going to get the house, car, kids, savings and retirement accounts, plus child support, dental and medical care, and the dog. In certain states she is eligible for alimony as well.
 
The husband gets squat. Well, at least in Florida he can get debtor's prison. That's something. His quality of life will diminish somewhat, living in the dismal dump that is all he can afford. At least the roaches are large and numerous enough to provide plenty of protein. The judge can set any amount of the husband's income for child support, etc. with automatic adjustments for inflation. Keep in mind, the ratchet works only one way. It always goes up, never down. What happens if he gets a raise? Yup. Sweet little Ellie Sue can petition the court and presto, she gets a whacking big increase in child support, etc. The State gets some as well. His tax rate reflects the total raise, hence the raise is actually a decrease of income while child support has gone up! Please boss, don't give me another raise or I'll go broke!

What happens if he looses his job? Why, it becomes rather difficult to pay child support. The State will rather rapidly throw one in debtor's prison where he has 6 months to re-consider the wonderfulness of the most beautiful girl under the bleachers and their snot monsters. He well might get some tender “lovin'” as well although it might not be exactly the type he prefers. Bobo the beast needs some lovin' as well.
The State will save one the problem of renewing any licenses that one may need for future employment, driver's license as well. They all get canceled. So when the poor critter gets out, he'll be homeless, his vehicle impoundment charges exceed its value, his household goods including that wonderful dented aluminum pot he got at the flea market he boiled his morning gruel in, have been donated to a worthy charity. The one that has many fleet feet and comes by night. ...and he still owes child support.
 
Now for the routine that I was put through was a bit different. My final hearing on child support (ex-wife's play money) was held in the Mobile County Courthouse with my shyster there being “Judge” Herndon Inge, a total waste of oxygen. However, F. Lee Bailey would be useless representing a white man in front of Judge Cain Kennedy's civil court. There were approximately two dozen future victims waiting for their turn with the knife at their throats as Judge Kennedy was one black man who hated white boys. I was somewhat amused at first as he gaveled down death and destruction on one after another until he came to number five. This guy was just a skinny old dirt farmer, maybe fifty or so, who had taken a “bride” last year. It wasn't working out and she had filed for divorce. She was in her twenties, totally slovenly with her Bermuda shorts skin-tight on her thighs, legs crossed and bouncing, hair disheveled, a real “treat” for one's eyes.
 
The old farmer was very respectful and explained that he and his brother had been cropping the land that had been in their family for three generations and his share of the farm's profits were less than the demanded alimony. The judge, being a wise and fair man, awarded the slattern, among other things, the entire farm and farmhouse. “Thank you, your Honor.” Number ten (I was number eleven) sitting beside me turned chalk white.

As expected, it was a continued slaughter as the day advanced. I don't really know why we were summoned in front of this “judge” as he already knew how he was going to rule. ...probably just enjoyed watching the maggots squirm. When my turn came, he merely set the terms ungodly higher than my income plus I was required to pay a huge amount of baksheesh to his “court.”
After my turn getting gutted, I turned to leave the courtroom only to find my shyster gone. Didn't matter of course, however it was bad form as I had paid him $6,600 and my ex's $2,000 to be present at my gutting. ...come to think of it, no one else's shyster stood up for their clients either. Considering who the judge was, I suppose it was “why bother?”
 
He was far down the hallway in front of the elevator bank with a handsome young man that was introduced to me as my ex's shyster. He invited me to come down and meet my ex. I declined, they wrapped their arms around each others shoulders and got on an elevator. I took the stairs. I haven't been back to Alabama since.
 
 
I had to come up with a way to pay the child support. It would have been easy enough if I had remained at Sandia, however my life would have been a lot shorter if I remained. The expected move to Laurence Radiation Labs vanished with Jim C's death, resurrecting MTB Associates was problematical, and finding employment elsewhere was virtually impossible due to the severe damage done to me by the mexicans. Many years prior, I had vowed to myself not to be involved with offensive weapon systems again (see DALMO-VICTOR for more), however, the pay is rather good for a rapid turn-around. The job in mind required a fair amount of legal council prior to submitting a proposal (see LAWYERS ARE PEOPLE TOO), was done, and a full payout for support made. With my medical condition, either my vow went or I would eventually become Bobo's girlfriend. Vow went and frankly, I could have cared less what the systems did to the creatures on either side. There wasn't a trace of humanity in either.
 

So tomorrow, July 22nd, 2015 will mark 30 years without seeing my sons. Such is life.
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