Asheboro's mill town kings - running the hometown bank aground - had "turned a blind eye" to very ugly things going on right under their noses, you see.
Why yes, they could . . . help RIP YOU OFF.
The "reporters" at the Courier Tribune had the stones to feign surprise, and print something-that-wasn't-news-to-most-of-us (i.e. crooks-in-suits ran the local bank) as news. And the oh-so-heroic U.S. Attorney's office stepped in to make Community One pay back pennies-on-the-dollar to the hapless victims. Ooo-rah!
My point was going to be that the boys at the bank were not the only ones turning blind eyes in Asheboro. And the *&^%$#@! U.S. Attorney KNOWS it.
But I've learned the very hard way that short of suing someone, accountability and transparency and justice in Asheboro are not for everyone . . . and the ONLY reason the victims of the Ponzi scheme got their ounce-of-flesh is because there was something in it for a-government-that-wanted-to-get-out-from-under-the-mess . . . in the form of marrying off two "bad-sister" banks and dumping the problem on a couple of private investment firms.
It's an "elegant" solution, that will make everybody happy . . . well, except ordinary, long-term FNB investors who, according to the Triad Business Journal, will be "wiped out" by the time all the wheeling and dealing is done (I thought going from $30 a share to 30 cents a share had already accomplished that, but this dime-a-dozen-doctor doesn't have an MBA, so what do I know?).
You've got to understand that in Asheboro (where only "right people" matter) what's really important is that Mike Miller is a university president now. He's out. He's okay. The Courier will print that . . . will celebrate that. And thanks to the Feds, this ugly/embarrassing business will all be out of the headlines soon. David Smith will be very happy re-vitalizing what isn't fore-closed on (5/29 Update: Rumor has it that Mr. Smith and Council-member Walker Moffitt want the City of Asheboro to BUY the forclosed-upon Asheboro Country Club - perhaps the lamest of lame ideas I've heard lately). Keith Crisco can keep outsourcing/globalizing/whatever-the-hell-he-calls-it the state's economy (it not being enough to have helped kill a town). And your retirement nest-egg gone, your son or daughter can drop out of college and work at the new Sheetz . . . or one of Schmidly's bars.
You can take comfort in the fact that going to college and getting the degrees and doing the years of indentured servitude wouldn't count for much anyway.
As you can see, it's a long and winding road, and I could have gone on forever. But then I got side-tracked by a phone-call from Sir Buzz-of-the-Asheboro-Armfields, who wants his name off that &^%$#! cancer center . . . and then all hell broke loose . . . from F-3 tornadoes in North Carolina (we ain't Kansas), to royal weddings (hope this one has a happier ending), to President Obama using Dick Cheney's super-secret-assassination squad to track down and kill Osama Bin Laden.
There's a rumor the Lord Himself is going to make an appearance on May 21.
The sign-off post kept expanding and meandering . . . getting longer and longer as I vented years of frustration with some of my more holier-than-thou fellow Americans in our local blogosphere . . . painstakingly pointing out all of the delicious irony and flaming hypocrisy in the difference between the drenched-in-partisan-hate positions they've staked-out over the last decade, and the course actually pursued by their Messiah-in-Chief when he laced-up his golf shoes to fight Islamic extremism and terrorism on a global scale . . . as he, himself and him tracked down and killed America's public enemy number one.
It warms this battle-weary, deeply-scarred, moderately-conservative, God-fearing heart to watch these "progressive" keyboard-jockeys (not-to-mention the Courier Tribune's editor - clearly out-of-touch with his readership) . . . who fancy themselves so much more evolved and civilized and enlightened and purer-in-their-faiths than anyone-who-may-have-cracked-a-smile-at-the-news . . . squirm in discomfort at Obama's "elegant" (there's that word again) mafia-style solution . . . which had its foundation in some of the darker corners of Gitmo (or places a lot lit Gitmo conveniently located in other countries/jurisdictions). It's KILLING these people that the strategy of taking the battle to the enemy actually worked.
Who is the "moral relativist" now?
Being a more practical, down-to-earth (and truly "old-fashioned") girl, I know that those who live by the sword, die by it . . . and Caesar is owed his due. The Lord Himself said so. I won't be sampling the fires of Hell for my more Medieval urges (which, let's face it, I can't and won't be doing anything about) any more than porn-loving OBL met dozens of willing virgins when Seal Team Six sent him there.
Moreover, I refuse to mug the "we're better than that (translation: you)" arrogance that no doubt PISSES OFF our enemies more than dancing-in-the-street-at-the-death-of-a-murderous-thug (or just about anything else we Americans do) ever will. I've got ZERO problem with Obama making like Lt. Maynard on Blackbeard (these days it's about collecting DNA as opposed to heads) . . . and interrupting Bin Laden's Al-Jazeera reruns in a fashion that mercifully spared the battle-weary & PTSD-suffering American public a farcical NYC show-trial staged by Eric Holder . . . a trial that would have involved coughing up evidence . . . you know, like those "gruesome" photographs so many of us would like to see . . .. not so much for "the proof" as for the SATISFACTION.
As I've said elsewhere, my problems started on Bill & Hillary Clinton's watch. I languished in the village while Bill chased skirt. And I cut the Bush Justice Department a whole lot of slack in terms of the priorities they assigned after 9/11.
I let the legal-eagles (and the local journalists) tell me that, in the great scheme of things, my hard work and my service, and my dreams, and my sacrifices did not matter at all. The government's lawyers had more important things to do. I was not the right kind of victim.
And I'm sorry. That page just turned. It's not an acceptable answer anymore.
It spits in the face of everything I was taught about what this country stands for . . . everything I believe . . . and it clouds all of my tomorrows.
As you can probably tell from this intro, the original post was spiralling out of control.
Then my friend Charlene came back to work. She almost didn't get any tomorrows - and the one she's dealing with now is not-at-all the one she wanted.
So I told her story on this blog. Then I stopped typing. Then I did a lot of editing and deleting.
It's time to slow down, and to step WAY back, and to breathe, and to re-assess, and to re-focus. I've ceded far too many of my "tomorrows" to crooks and hypocrites (the point that the so-called "journalists" like John Robinson and Lex Alexander always determindedly miss - right after they lob the cheap shots and just before they cut me off - is that I WANTED "professional help" - theirs) . . . and this blog.
Blogging has been cathartic in a whole lot of ways that really cannot be described. It was incredibly empowering to come out from under the cloud of fear that surrounded my every move and utterance FOR YEARS . . . to cast off the shame I didn't deserve . . . to break the silence . . . to get the truth out . . . and expose most of the ugly to light and air. I'm very grateful for the friends I've made - and the ones I've reconnected with along the way.
And I would not really change a thing - because, as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
But I've got better things to do with my keyboard this summer. The legal files await and it's time to stare down - and dive into -
There are also pirate movies to see. And young wizards winding down their battles. And I'm reading a really cool book about what happened after Cleopatra morphed into a vampire.
I know a little bit about morphing into something I did not want to be.
So I've spent the last two days re-working the Housecalls sidebar into an easily accessible summary of the most important aspects of the story I've labored for six years to tell here. I've also thinned-out and streamlined the links. (It's not the short/sweet/uber-dry "100-words-or-less" that Edward Cone-of-the-Cone-Health-Cones hinted might "hook" one of the area's lazy/sold-out journalists, but I've come to understand that trying to make something very complicated and very traumatic look simple was just another trap. Mr. Cone dangled rotten carrots from the start.)
And I'm signing off for a while . . . you could say "moving on" . . . without a lot of fanfare, or rehashing things I've said before . . . and, like my friend Charlene, plan to do what I need to do. She's actually my inspiration.
The only story I'm might miss is the indictment of John Edwards. But you know, I think we can just wait for that movie too;)
It's all in the sidebar folks. Have a nice summer. I plan to.
As Housecalls is boarded-up for the summer, comments on this post are closed. Roch Smith, Jr., Blogsboro's champion of free speech, and his precious local blog aggregator can KISS MY ASS!
Update: My fellow homegrown outcast, Sir Buzz Armfield-of-the-Asheboro-Armfields-who-wants-his-name-off-that-&^%$#-Cancer-Center, has perused this post and the new sidebar and approves. He actually suggested that Mr. Roch Smith, Jr. should kiss his ass because it "has a great deal of hair" and is "generally lacking in hygiene".
TMI perhaps?
We have a tenative plan to do lunch on Saturday - the rumored date of the Lord's return - which could be problematic as Queen Mary's knight-in-shining-armor is an agnostic. From a recent e-mail to the Buzzman:
If the world were to end on Saturday (and I think it will not as we're not supposed to know the day or the hour - and the Lord would be just enough annoyed with those who presume to know His business to wait until Sunday) there is no way I would rather go out than in the middle of lunch with a good friend.
That's assuming I would vaporize in front of you - and I'm thinking the jury-of-angels is still out on that one. Oh woe is me.
Tribulations are my thing, you see. One must keep one's sense of humor.
