That Was My Pig

“I don’t understand what you want me to do.”
“I don’t want to be charged double the fees. This car has been registered and insured continuously.”
(I want to take your car away, but) “DMV is only an administrative agency.”
“I have a notice from the DMV with a line item of a penalty. I don’t owe you for a penalty. I don’t want to invest a half day to stand in line at the office and be told the same thing as this notice.”
“You can apply for a refund! I’m confused. What can I do to help you?”
(You can suck so hard on my wiener that my mind cannot even comprehend that much power). “Just like I just waited on hold forty-five minutes to speak with you, I am afraid that if I go to the office, I will have to wait and will still have insufficient proof. What can I do that my car won’t be impounded?”
“Don’t drive it.”
(Okay, so, when I have the needle and the spoon I should not slam it. Check.) “What do the words ‘now registered’ mean if, like the police told me the other night, it’s suspended in Nevada too? Is suspended registered’? I don’t want to commit perjury.”
“Do you have the Nevada registration?”
“No, they didn’t give it to me. I surrendered my California plates and I have the plates with a sticker of 01-10.”
“In California?”
“No, in Nevada.”
“Did you call the Nevada DMV to find out if what the police told you was correct and it is suspended?”
“Well, call the Nevada DMV and get the registration, or sign an affidavit of facts in the office.”
“I paid twice. I paid again after six months, so the expiration of NV insurance made it go suspended.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you call?”
“I have had the car registered and insured continuously. I don’t think I should have to pay a penalty. Can’t you access Nevada?”
“Sir, I can’t clear—”
“Can you make it so they won’t impound my car?”
“No. You need a smog certificate, too.”
“But it’s a 2006!”
“Any car coming in from out of state has to be smogged. But, you can still go to the office and get the process started.”
“I just do not have the money any more. Going to Nevada, everything extra I had to pay I could pay, but the arrangements for return, I am more interested in paying what I can pay, not in trusting that I shall be repaid.”

Gentle reader, I want you to notice that the information that you are being murdered rests in a policeman’s ears similar to a long suck on a root beer candy rests on his tongue.
“online calculator”
“what? If they don’t leave off the penalty fee, …”
“no, you can add up the fees online and see what it should be, and if it’s wrong, you’ll know.”
“you aren’t going to screw me. not now, not later, not in the instant that i sleep.”
I am weary of killing cops, or, “crazy people killing cops & soldiers.” Let’s go further up the chain.
“Did you take the notice to the office?”
“No. This all happens in a week. I went last week and they told me I needed either the registration or the title, then the police stopped me and he told me the registration was suspended in Nevada, too, and he could impound the car (“Motor officers would impound it. You’re lucky.”). Then I just got the notice like today (I have a restraining order thang and a separation thang I didn’t use), and it says it’ll impound it.”
“I don’t understand. Was this in Nevada, or California?”
“In California. This week. I am trying to get the car back in California after having worked a year in Nevada, and I paid double, and I don’t want to pay double again.”
Why fight over the little things, like a hundred and twenty bucks?
Once you realize that all they want is money, then you can improve, be better. Just pay it.
I too don’t believe in drugs. For years I paid my people extra to stay away from that sort of stuff, but someone comes along saying, I’ve got powders where if you put up a three to four thousand dollar investment, you can make fifty thousand distributing, then there is no way to resist it. I want to keep it respectable. I DON’T WANT IT NEAR SCHOOLS, I DON’T WANT IT SOLD TO CHILDREN! In my city, we’d keep the traffic in the Dark People, the Coloreds — they’re animals anyway; so let them lose their souls.
That’s probably the Vito Corleone character, played by Marlon Brando, The Godfather (1972).
Cause of the Hatfield McCoy feud:
The second recorded instance of violence in the feud occurred after an 1878 dispute about the ownership of a hog: Floyd Hatfield had it and Randolph McCoy said it was his.[2] The pig was only in the fight because some of the Hatfields believed that since the pig was on their land, that meant it was theirs; some of the McCoys objected saying the “notches” or “marks’ on the pig’s ears were McCoy marks, and not Hatfield marks. The matter was taken to the local Justice of the Peace, and the McCoys lost because of the testimony of Bill Staton, a relative of both families. The individual presiding over the case was Anderson “Preacher Anse” Hatfield. In June 1880, Staton Hatfield was killed by two McCoy brothers, Sam and Paris, who were later acquitted on the grounds of self-defense.
I’m from the Kentucky side of the Tug Fork. The hellbender salamander lives there. I’m not from there; my mother is. That’s the McCoys. Her name is, …Maynard. You know, the state always does their identity-theft exercise based on that. Now what amyonagle do?

There’s way more to this. the “moonshiners” or this and that, that’s all to do with wiping out the original Western independence.


One Response to “That Was My Pig”

  1. “Mom, I Nicked My Brother with a Rock.” « How to Make Methamphetamine Says:

    […] […]

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