my only weapon is my pen

and the frame of mind I’m in …

Poet, from There’s A Riot Goin’ On

Sylvester Stewart, circa, 1971

Actually, there’s still a riot goin’ on in my CyberSoulMan head regarding an incident that happened to me in small claims court here in Lake County a few years back. I’ll get to that shortly.

I’d like to go back even further though, in an attempt to illustrate part of the formative childhood of T. Watts, back when the brainwash was new.

I was a CyberSoulChild, living in San Francisco, city of my birth. I actually cannot remember not having a television. One of my favorite TV shows was entitled “Captain Fortune.” It was, obviously, a children’s show, full of fantasy, magic and the like.

One of the cool things Mr. Captain Fortune could do was have one of his young charges take a crayon to an easel and mark it up all crazy and then actually redraw the mass into anything the little tyke or tykes desired. It was like, total subliminal domination of my 5-year-old mind. This cat could make something out of nothing. Pure alchemy. My mini psyche shouted, “Eureka!”

Several years later, I had a similar experience in my eighth grade math class. It was taught by a young whiz kid with a southern accent named Mr. Williams. He was a genteel, handsome type, natty dresser, really popular with the students and, I imagine, females in general.

Mr. Williams, through a series of seemingly algebraic formulaic smoke-and-mirrored sleight of hand, proved to the class that 1 + 1 = 3. There. It had happened again. I had been shown by someone that I had a modicum of faith in, that the impossible was occasionally possible. Mr. Williams, bless his heart, did undo his fraudulent math lesson to illustrate to our teenaged sensibilities that people can be made to believe anything.

Here folks, is where the bloggy gets foggy. I’m easing toward my tale from the cryptic courtroom now.

You see, I was a Lake County landlord a few seasons back. I learned that there are some very fraudulent renters out there. These are people who make a living at renting for free. They’ll show up like the all-American family. They have maybe one or two vehicles and a couple of children. They will be slightly short of the total move-in costs to secure the rental of your property and have a less-than-stellar credit report as well.

They’ll give you a story that will tug at your heart. You agree to rent them your property. They pay the rent fine for a couple of months. Then suddenly they can’t pay the rent because they are separated. The wife and children are gone and the husband has a sad story. This goes on for close to three months.

Then their former landlords make contact with you, the current landlord. You compare notes. It’s a ruse. You discover they scammed more than one former landlord the same way. You might even catch your tenants at Kmart acting very unseparated, spending your mortgage money. The husband refuses to vacate your property.

You explore your legal options. In my case I decided to use a legal reference handbook for landlords taking their tenants to court. I file all the papers, to evict the tenant(s) and sue for back rent and property damage.

On the day of court reckoning, I walk in the courtroom dressed like a lawyer. You know, sport coat, tie, slacks, shined shoes. I spy a popular Lake County doctor in the courtroom dressed for business as well. We acknowledge each other and wait for the judge.

Lot on the plate of some of these judges. Makes them a little late sometimes. One pleasantry about the proceedings is that the court stenographer is my neighbor.

His Honor finally saunters in and we do the “All rise.” He calls the doctor’s case and quickly finds for the doctor. The doctor is able to hear the nature of my case before he leaves the courtroom. His Honor calls my case. At some point during the proceedings His Honor scowls at me like I’m a menace there to do harm to the defendant, who looks like he slept in his clothes.

Rather than give you the blow by blow, let me just suffice to say that after presenting my case and finally getting the sheriff to give my tenant the boot, His Honor asked me where I got my legal advice. When I told him the title of the legal handbook he angrily told me that I was misinformed, that I was not eligible for the two and a half months back rent and all I could be awarded was a $200 cleaning fee.

Hey, wait a minute, I’m thinking. This is some negative alchemy. This judge is trying to convince me that I’m wrong, when I know I’m right. All my i’s are dotted and my t’s are crossed. This is bad mojo. The impossibly unfair has the shady scale of justice on its scanty side.

But wait, there’s more proof. I ask my neighbor the stenographer what she made of the court action. She said something to the effect of, “I don’t know what came over the judge. I’ve never seen him act like that before. He acted like you did something to him.”

I bumped into the doctor a few days later. He too, was surprised that I didn’t get the verdict I was seeking.

I’ve gotten out of the land lording business. Nothing lasts forever. Not even unrighteous judges who ignore scandalous behavior. Me? I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Maybe next I’ll write about Rush Limbaugh’s pain pill connection. Papa’s got a brand new bag!

Keep prayin’, keep thinkin’ those kind thoughts.

T. Watts is a writer, radio host and music critic. Visit his Web site at www.teewatts.biz.

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