Iroqvn_I_Said_That's Blog

When the constitution was put forth by the founding fathers an inherent thread wove through the fabric of  law that defined the measure by which each citizen should conduct their person,  … that ignorance of the law is no excuse for compliance of the law and importantly, that each citizen shall know every law.  This is the reasonable man clause. 

Granted the impossibility to know each and every law is beyond the scope of each judge much less the layman’s ability to posses the breath of each aspect of law. However the reasonable man holds that truth, be held to a standard of a honor code; one shall not lie, steal, or cheat nor tolerate anyone who does.

Any one point of honor, any one point of this code is not mutually exclusive of the other. Each is dependant upon the other.  Practically, to violate one is condemnation of to be in violation of the other.  Consider this example: Lie and you must consider that you have “ stolen the truth and have cheated by omission of the truth, the rightful possessor the benefit that the truth would have affected.

To offer a contention that sufficiency, or a standard to measure truth by, or what is the intent of the reasonableness of truth or the lack thereof is an argument of a Greek sophist in blue suede shoes, or shyster attorney in a cheap suit attempting to frame an outcome that  doesn’t fit the circumstance, situation or instance save a grand delusion. .

Mr. Thomas, one of several elastic tongues that is under retainer of the mayor, is a source of vagueness and his associate Sharon McPhail they so often decry as foul.  To this end they both fail the reasonable man clause and gives rise to the old saying “ you know they are lying … their lips are moving.” 

Liars in defense of a liar, lying about a lie, because of cheating that lead to lies, which caused some more lies to steal, which required more lies to cover the theft because the cheating was to be covered up, because the lies would be discovered if lies weren’t told.

Whew! 

Now I’m a lay person, not of the ability to know every law of the land.  However, to observe the honor code to not lie, steal nor cheat covers the test that every law is based in this foundation. My parents taught me that. Apparently these were not taught in the Team Kilpatrick households. 

Too bad Team Kilpatrick doesn’t realize what everyone else knows, liars are not, cannot, and will not be trusted. Three judges in the appeals court appear to not take one spoonful of the manure being dished by Team Kilpatrick. No honor, no code, not to be trusted on their word. The beginning of the … end ….Finally!!!  

IROQVN! I said that! William Bishop, Detroit Michigan

1-207 UCC all rights reserved.     

What Is In A Picture? Who Looks Presidential? 

 Photo from NY Times 4-18-2008

I couldn’t help but notice the picture featured on the front page of the NY Times of the three presidential candidates as they walked with a Canadian minister. It really caught my eye as each candidate walked with this minister down the same hallway and each was photographed candidly as they engaged conversation.

If body language has anything to project an image of self confidence, intelligence, and leadership then the photos speak their subtle inference, yet demonstrate projection of what is presidential, to me at least.

McCain to the right, appears to be trying to keep up, as the minister looks down on him. The minister looks like he is trying to clarify in simplistic terms that the senator is not grasping, and really isn’t concerned with as he isn’t in step and the minister is walking slowly for him to catch up. I see Alzheimer’s around the corner.

The center photograph of Hillary is a mess. She is out of step, as she walks with the minister, gazing upward like a lost puppy dog and uncomfortable as her hands are held rigidly by her side.  The minister appears to be talking past her, as his hands appear to enumerate a laundry list of requirements.  She actually looks like she is being scolded. I don’t see leadership, I see a follower.

The last picture on the far left is Senator Obama, The minister is looking up to him, he is in step with senator, and his hands appear to firmly conveying a message. The Senators shoulders are square, posture erect and confident. Head is up, and looking very presidential.  The image projects leadership, the minister is trying to keep up.

If I were to pick a candidate based on these photographs, I would undoubtedly have to go with the image that projects leadership quality. 

IROQVN! I said that. William Bishop, Detroit, Michigan.

1-207 UCC all rights reserved.

Stopping Metal Thieves by Changing Laws? How About Enforcing the Ones on the Books!

 The Harbor Light Center at Park Avenue and Sibley July 2007.

Opening Day 2008-Note the hallow appearance.

The issue of modern day “Urban Gold Miners” is no different than zealous seekers of instant wealth like the California Gold rush 49’s, or Custer reporting that there was Gold in the Black Hills, or Gold in the Cherokee Nation. In each case land and property were over run by a hoard of people who had no right to what-so-ever to invade three different sovereign nations.  Today, Urban Gold Miners invade private property with all the boldness like it is theirs to do as they please. Like a locust striping every living thing in sight, the swath of devastation is obvious. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where the thieves are and what they are doing.

From July of 2007 to present I personally witnessed the complete and through stripping of  a Detroit landmark, The former Original Hotel Park Avenue, now know as the Harbor Light Center. This 13 story, 255 unit residence hotel each was the swankest place in Detroit. This grand ole lady was taken over by the Salvation Army, and she went to hell in a hand basket as with everything the Salvation Army operates and abandons. 

In broad day light I would watch second story men climb the exterior of the building like they were Spiderman and gain entry via a fourth floor open window. At night the blue arcs of light of cutting equipment would flash from the windows. Window by window floor by floor, the metal frames disappeared. The activity inside the structure was quite visible. The activity inside was furious. On any given day I counted no less that 15 people moving about the structure. Material stripped was being ejected from the windows; cast iron radiators, desks, bed frames, lockers, tubs, sinks, false ceiling grids, pipes, cables,vaves, junction boxs, motors, pumps and most astoundingly the huge gears that lifted the elevator cars. I called 911, no response.

To attest to the highly organized excavation of metals, I observed the crew work what must have been a couple of tons of fly wheel to the edge of the roof and roll it off and fall 13 stories to the street below.  The monstrous cog partially punched through the street with an awful sound. It was thunderous and reverberated down the avenue across the drone of cars passing through via I-75.   Within minutes, not much more than 15, a tractor trailer wrecker appeared and hoisted the cog up and load it on to a flat bed. Like ants swarming at a pick nick, the Urban Gold Miners secured the cog and off went the flat bed. Then a raggedy dump truck towing an asphalt roller appeared and again like ants, 10 to 18 men appeared with shovels; the street was repaired with speed not known to be accomplished by the Wayne County Road Commission.  Unbelievable, and had I not seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it. I want these guys hired to repair pot holes they are good.  I called 911 and no response.

But it doesn’t end there, the power lines, lamp posts, transformers and other utility structures came down with blazing speed and were loaded on to a waiting line of pick up trucks, dump trucks and flat beds. I called 911 and no response.

During the course of this activity, I called the police several times. Result no response. I called Detroit DTE Energy; I was put through to voice mail. I jumped in my car and drove the side street of Temple.  On the North side of the adjacent and vacant Hotel Eddy Stone and observed no less than 34 vehicles marshaled in line order, like an assembly line. I took down license plate numbers and descriptions. I took physical descriptions of  the Urban Gold Miners, as they moved  quantities of  material to the vehicles; bundled cooper pipes large and small,  wheel barrows of shattered cast iron, steel plates, heavy coils of palletized  electrical cable,  not to mention tubs, sinks, door frames, and who knows whatever else.  I called 911 so many times, that the operators thought I was probably crazy.  Totally frustrated I drove to the Central District Police Station and reported to the uninterested desk sergeant, all that I witnessed. He replied “Yeah the building is slated for demolition. We’ll send someone out.”

I drove to the Detroit DTE Energy building and asked to speak to someone from their Task Force to stop the theft of Utilities and Infrastructure. They took my name and phone number. Some will call you in 48 hours. Oh boy!

The police eventually showed up and stopped the last pick-up truck, with scrap filled to the brim. Looked at the truck, wrote the driver a ticket and sent him on his way. What?

Detroit DTE Energy contacted me two days latter, while I was watching the scenario play out again.  I told them that I counted 17 men swarming within the building ejecting material out the west side windows.  There was nothing more they could do because the utility lines weren’t being removed. I informed them I observed the gold miners remove the exterior lines, poles and transformers.  They informed me that there was nothing they could do.

So the outcome of all of this has developed into a couple strong hunches:

1. This is a highly organized enterprise; so much so, these miners sweep up and clean the streets, side walks,alleys and lots exposed to public view. .
2. The planning, organization, and execution are by some very well trained, talented and knowledgeable people.
3. This activity is staged and coordinated.
4. Using the site plans of similar existing structures, and doing an estimate take-off, at current scrap redemption, I conservatively valued the materials removed to be in excess of $100,000.00. - $200,000.00 
5. I suspect there is some coordination between persons unknown in the building departments, of the city or county and the Urban Miners to affect this concert in broad daylight, and no police response is highly suspicious.

I have since concluded that all the hoop-la and public announcements requesting public assistance to report this activity is bunk!  This is planned blight, to justify the destruction of Detroits historic structures and devalue properties into brown space for rapid turnover.

I can only surmise that there a lot of paydays going into the pockets of corrupt officials, whomever and wherever they are.  There is no enforcement what-so-ever! I believe that if you want to find the culprits behind this, will require a serious investigation as to who really profits from the acquisition of the blighted properties.

We don’t need new laws; we need honest enforcement of existing laws leading to convictions and ultimately the identification of the fat cats and kingpins running a ruse on the public. This is way too organized to be blamed on a bunch of druggies, bums and dustys out to make a quick buck.

This is a highly organized criminal enterprize that is destroying our heritage; it deserves the utmost scrutiny. 

IROQVN! I said that! William Bishop, Detroit Michigan

1-207 UCC all rights reserved.

ReverendCirca53
Apr 6, 2008 | 2:49 AM  Wrote:  

 One Eyed Mental condom                                         Piss Pants Fascist

Iroqvn; You are full of BLEEP!..I've read your Anti America,Anti White, nonsense and have seen it in the message boards. You call yourself Aero-Coon?.Your no more an Indian then a Nike Tennis Shoe.Your so-called facts and figures are no-where near accurate.I work with a number of Federal Dept's and have shown some Bureau of Indian Affairs people your rants. You wouldn't last a day among real Indians,I spend time in the Dakotas,Montana,Wyoming, Oklahoma,Nebraska,etc.You may impress the negros in the message boards, but not here.Go to RoseBudSouixTribe-nsn.gov...It's the Family of Sicangu Lakota Tetun Wan Oyate.. Dept. of The Interior..DOI.gov...I dare you to find your so-called Indian Ancestry!! There were NEVER 150,000,000 Indians!!..There are 593 Tribes of 1,923,650 people, 12 Tribes in Mich.Your use of Red-Man,PaleFace,Hitler,etc shows your lack of facts and knowledge.Your constant posts of nonsense [you]exhibits some serious mental flaws,pesonality disorders.Stop and ponder what you print......."

Where were you? What were you doing? 

There are those times when significant events occur that shape the course history and impinge directly our individual life.  The ramifications of the event have such far reaching implications, that to consider them all is beyond the grasp of the human mind. 

Even so, there is something about the suddenness of a significant event, that it is a wonder that the individual would even recognize or otherwise know that the event is significant to begin with.    

For instance, when you spy a scar on your right thumb, do you remember you came by it? Do remember what you did prior to getting the scar? How about after? Did it have an impact so as to change your behavior, mood, or how you interact with others? Do you remember the state of your emotion before, during and after? How long did your emotional state last? And how was your emotional state altered if any? 

Let me roll the significant event, and only you can reach back through the time machine known as your memory of mind, to rediscover the person you were then, its affect that altered your person. 

How does the memory of the birth of your children evoke your emotional state? For each of us that is a significant event. Those that wanted children and even those that didn’t. For me, my eldest daughter’s birth was on the heels of a significant event.  I was on a skirmish line in the southwest area of the Island of Grenada. My unit the 82nd Airborne Division was deployed to rescue the Americans on the island.  The foreign advisors, it was discovered had not only built a new airfield capable of handling military aircraft, they had built submarine pens under the airfield that crossed the bay, and missile silos that would put a MREV nuclear package on the continental United States in less than time than we could react. This is what I call a double whammy. I left the military; I wanted make sure that my children would not grow up fatherless by war.  12 years was enough. I had enough.  

When the Tigers won the 1984 World Series?  I remember sitting in front of the television with my 11 month old daughter, wanting to shout but not. It was a very controlled response, so as to not wake a sleeping baby. But after putting her down with her mother, it was off to the local sports bar and buying my buddies a few rounds. 

Lets try this, a bit more somber. What were you doing when you learned of the Space Shuttle Challenger mishap on launch?  The year was 1986, January 28th was a bright sunny winter day in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I was driving, en-route to the University of Michigan.  I immediately thought of the Apollo astronauts caught in the command module fire that perished, Grissom, Copper and White. Sadness washed over me and I had to pull over because I had lost my concentration momentarily.  I prayed for them and their families.  

What about the morning of September 11, 2001 at about 9:30 am?  I had just made cup of coffee, turned on the television and observed a sky scrapper burning. I thought why are they showing a movie on the news channel, when the second plane struck. I then realized this wasn’t a movie but something horrifically tragic and dropped my cup turning up the volume to find out what was going on. I thought at that moment I had lost my entire immediate family. My two brothers worked at the Trade Center. My sister and brother-n-law were New York Fire Department Paramedics, and my other sister and mother were within blocks of the tower, as well as my Uncle who was a city engineer that handled the Staten Island Ferry operations. It took the rest of the day to get through to friends and other family members to locate them and get a status on their safety and well being.  A most heart wrenching day; I had to fight every impulse to jump in my car and drive to New York and find them.  

Let me date myself now.  The saddest Thanksgiving ever for this nation, …The news of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. It was about 2:45pm and I was returning from the supply office at Public School 104, in Brooklyn New York, when the principle, who was a stern man,  crouched down on to one knee, a tear was starting to roll from his eye, in a cracking voice  told me to have my teacher, Miss Sealtest, to inform the other teachers on the floor that President of the United States has been shot, and report to his office immediately.  I have never known this man to ever act the way he did. I remember that I walked into the class room and waited for her to stop speaking and look at me. She asked me to sit down, and then I approached her and whispered in her ear Principal Buchanan’s  request. She reeled back and looked me squarely in the eyes with total astonishment as tears welled in eyes. .  I then said the Japanese are probably going to attack. I had recently seen the movie P.T.-109, which was about our heroic President in WWII. The days that followed set a mood of seriousness that stayed with me. This President inspired me beyond measure.  

It wasn’t until the evening of April 4th, 1968, a Thursday, while listening to Casey Casems American Top 40 on the Armed Forces Radio Network.  American  Television Broadcasts didn’t exists overseas then, all news and entertainment was via the Armed Forces Radio Network, Voice of America, and the Stars & Stripes News Paper.  

While listening the radio and reading Edgar Rice Boroughs, “Tales of Tarzan”, the program at about 11:o5pm was interrupted to receive a live broadcast from New York of breaking news. The voice of Walter Cronkite, the most trusted name in America aside from Chet Huntly and David Brinkley, started with his low baritone lumbering voice, pausing with inflictions on certain syllables, dramatically emphasizing the gravity and seriousness of what he was to impart by this announcement.

 “Today … just minutes ago the Honorable Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, the civil rights leader, was shot standing on the balcony of  the Lorraine motel in Memphis Tennessee …"

 I sat up quickly and as if  I could turn up the volume of ears, the radio grew louder. I wasn't sure if I heard what I heard, I was afraid to move because I might make some noise that would drown out a key word and waited till I heard Walter, say “I repeat …” . I flew off my bed and turned the volume up on the radio and listen again.  I then walked out of my room and to my parents room who were sleeping and woke them.  My father asked me if I was okay, and I replied “ I not sure.” 

I then added, “Dad, Dr. King has been shot!”  At which point he jumped up out of the bed and woke my Mother and repeated what I had just said.

 The rest of the night, a vigilance of  sitting at the kitchen table happened. We listened to the AFRN on one radio, the BBC on another, and the English language broadcast of Duestch Wella.  The radio’s voices reflected a proper somberness that was in the following days continued. The race riots that happened the year before, were a prelude to the riots that broke out on April 6th. The seriousness of events was reflected radio programing as even the music was somber. Classical in nature, heavy in mood, a reflection of the respect only reserved for a deserving great person  and the gravity of the aftermath. 

In the following days our many German friends came by our house as though a wake were in progress. Herr Hider, the man who taught me how ski & mountain climb in the Alps was one of the biggest, strongest men I had ever known had tears stream down his face.  The first American he had ever knew was  a black soldier that liberated his town. Until a white officer showed up,  he thought all Americans were black.  I was taken aback that this humble giant man felt so much agony for a mans death ... a black mans death ... a man who stood for equality.  Our family had a prayer ceremony in our traditional way which included our many friends in the days following Dr. Kings death.  On the day of his funeral my father and mother called their seven children together for a remembrance, the placement of Dr. Martin L. King’s picture next to the  picture of John F. Kennedy. Each frame with a black ribbon draped on the upper right corner of the frame. It would be two months later we would add another picture  to the wall, almost to the day, Robert ”Bobby” Kennedy would also fall to an assassins hand. And the eerie events would play out again.

 An event that occurred within a few days of our family’s remembrance ceremony occurred in the living room of our home that will live with me forever.  It is important to understand the racially charged atmosphere of the 60’s was bad. Really bad! Nothing like today, but then, lynching men of color happened with great frequency, even Red men. Churches were fire bombed, houses and barns were set ablaze, and people were declined service at restaurants, movie theaters, and retail outlets. Police would not hesitate to club a woman, kick a child in to the path of an on coming vehicle, turn loose a dog on a play ground. Stop a car, and the occupants would just disappear. Be subject to be searched, and your money, possessions as simple as a wrist watch or groceries would be taken. All because you weren’t white, you were treated differently.  I know … I lived through this.   The activity of the Klu Klux Klan was rampant, brazen and prevalent, throughout the whole of the nation and sadly awash in the Armed Forces. As a few of my fathers friends entered into the living room, a man whom my father had known, for a while made the comment “ Why would you have that “Ni****’s picture next to the president much less in your home at all?”

“My father impressed me with his demeanor, frankness, calmness and courage. He then said “ I want you to sit down and listen to me very closely, you are my friend and I hope you remain my friend,  but you will need to understand me, my family and why I honor these great men.”  

 His friend had the look of astonishment in his eyes as my father continued.

 “ It was in the year 1837 when the whole of the United States Army entered into the Cherokee Nation and during the process of the removal of our family was reduced to just one. It was a Freedman, Phillip Williams, a former Negro slave  that saved our Grandmother Ema, who was a newborn not even a day old, when he threw himself between the soldiers and the baby. At great risk to his own life he stopped the shooting and with the last gasp of Ema’s mother, she past baby Ema to Phillip. He would rear Ema and return her to the Cherokee nation five years later in the Indian Territory today known as Oklahoma.”

 My father would go on to say, “This black man, is responsible for me being alive today, I even possess his name as well as my sons. To honor this man, Phillip Williams,  who I imagine to be embodied in the character of Dr. Martin L. King and John F. Kennedy. My skin color maybe red, but my heart doesn’t know color, my eyes don’t see color, but my being knows character and a good human being. And with respect of Dr. M. L King will always be honored in this home, because he and others make it possible for me not to hate you, or despise anything good. No matter the source, I will always fight oppression, but I will always welcome peace and Dr. King is no less the man than Phillip Williams. Do you understand me?”

 This man whose name I remember as Davis, did listen, and replied yes. His family was one of the families that moved in to the Cherokee Nation town of Tellico, which is near the city of Memphis today.  His family was literally on the heals of the Army during the removal. He knew from the stories passed down, that these things occurred. He also understood … felt the conviction of my fathers belief. It was years later that I learned my father had saved Davis life in Korea after he had been wounded. They were brothers of the strongest bond, they were brothers of the band, a brotherhood born by fire ... it is never broken.  They remained the best of friends till the end of their days. There friendship is a friendship that no man, government or ideology could break.  They worked together from that point, where Davis never mentioned slurs, remarks of slang or color again.  He would stand-up against anyone who would dare to tell an off color joke.  He would confront racism at every juncture; he even hung a picture of Dr. King on the wall, not only in his home, but in his office as well.  So forthright had Davis became, he was a savior to a woman who was distressed upon stabilizing her life. He assisted her to reach the goal of self sufficincy. She named her first son Davis to honor him. He asked her if she would also give her son the middle name Martin. She so agreed. The greatest honor a person can receive is to have a child carry your name, and story as to why. 

Dr. King had this incredible affect on a person’s character. I know, I have witnessed it.  I saw first hand the incredible affect that Dr. Martin Luther King on just one person’s life, and how it had a domino effect. Years later to this day the effect is not yet complete, but with each successive generation, I can honestly say it has made an extraordinary change on how we see, perceive, and engage our fellow human beings. We as a People have come far, yet we have a long way to go.

IROQVN! I said that!  In remembrence, William Bishop, Detroit Michigan

1-207 UCC all rights reserved.   

It was opening day … where was the Mayor?

The opening day of baseball, featuring the Detroit Tigers and Kansas City Royals was a spring debut that brought on all the excitement of a sports major event barely rivaled by a world championship in terms of spectators.  The streets were jammed with cars and droves of people that one would imagine a tsunami had washed into downtown Detroit. From Midtown to Fox Town, the crowds were enormous. Where was the Mayor?

The parking lots, vacant blocks, curbs on both sides of streets, where ever a car could park, found its way into each and every nook and cranny. A financial shot in the arm for the lot owners, and unfortunately for the “Dustys”; criminals that seek opportunity to conduct car theft or shattering windows and empting the contents of the vehicle. None of  which deterred the enthusiasm of the tens of thousands that convened at Comerica Park; and the watering holes, hotels, and eateries that were packed to capacity and overflow crowds; lining up along the walk ways waiting to gain entry for more fun and good times.

Still, no saw the Mayor. 

The fans came from far and near, to participate as spectators in the annual ritual of opening day. The bars had long lines as early as 6:30am are waiting. As the morning progressed, the lots filled strait up Woodward Avenue; past the Chrysler, past Sproat, past Temple, Peterborough and beyond Martin Luther King. The Parallel avenues of 2nd and 3rd were no different. The cars packed with fans, custom coaches, charter coaches, busses of all sizes, mini vans and SUVs all packed with fans. Mission; opening day at the ball park, the boys of summer are home again. Nobody had seen the Mayor.

With the pre-game festivities melting into the start of the contest, a fly over by war birds of the Air Force; thunderous and loud added to the enthusiasm of the crowd packed stadium, the color guard and national anthem heralded the opening pitch. This year by Michigan’s own Miss America. However in past years, the honor reserved for his Honor the Mayor. His absence definitely remarked upon but yet not missed.  For you see, had the mayor performed this pleasurable civic duty. Most likely his ever brazen ego would suffer some sense of humility as the crowd would boo him off the mound and out of the park. Yes, the mayor hid out this year, because more so than not, a show of the citizens displeasure as to not only his adultery, but culmany, pandering, theft, perjurious, cheating, and possible murderous ways would meet with such thunderous heckling, he would not be able to deny that the people are not with him, for him and beside him.  If anything the people are behind him … with a big boot ... to kick the fool out of office. 

And that’s no April Fools joke.  

Three Witches of Eastwood[ward] or Oliver Betrayed the start of the fall.  

When Jerry Oliver worked his way up to be the Commander and Chief of Police of a major metropolitan police department he never envisioned that he would be betrayed by the very people he hand selected to help him clean up the police department’s graft  and corruption.  To restore the Departments dignity and the Officers to be Detroits Finest; that when you saw a person in blue that they would be true to the motto “To Protect and Serve.”  To curtail police officer homicide of the very people they were to protect, to protect arrestees, which are presumed to be innocent, until proven guilty by their peers, and       not  suffer pretrial death. . The number of deaths of Detroit citizens at the hands of the police department was so deplorable and horrendous, the Department of Justice jumped in the operations of the DPD.  

Jerry Oliver was the go to man by then Mayor Archer, to right the wrongs and clean up the town.  The ball was rolling … then a new "hip-hop demon " Mayor came to town … a thug and gangs'ta wanna-be.  Kwame Kilpatrick, aka Callme Thugtrick a Mayor of Irish/African descent that practiced the politics of Tammy Hall with the ire and art of  an ancient East Indian Thuge.  This combination of  specious characteristics soon reveled itself through greed, rumored murder, fat cat deals, wheeling the city coffers like he was the proprietor of his very own money printing press … to the tune of  10’s of millions of dollars.  He was living the high life on the public dime.   

There were road blocks in the way of this Demon Mayor … and one of them was Chief Jerry Oliver.  The mayor to realize his total control of the forceful DPD needed to circumvent the honorable Chief.  Moles like they were KGB converts were surrounding the Chief of Police.  His Chief of Staff Shereece Fleming-Freeman and the assistant Chief of Police  “The Bully” the two most trusted positions that Chief of Police could call upon to uphold the honor of the department, by helping him revamp the department and restore the prominence the department had been lacking; conspired with Christine Beatty to force the Chief to retire.  It was though the “Ides of March were happening while the song “Smile in your face … the back stabbers…”played in the background. 

Within the hours of his retirement the witch known as “The Bully” set to satisfy the mayor and his wife and his chief of staff with her pledge of hommage; the aquisition of not one but two Lincon Mercury SUV's . This wasn’t ménage-a-tois; this was the beginning of a straight up orgy in a den of evil. A coven with a Luciferious Warlock and his three witches of Eastwood[ward] casting their textspells with live sacrifices; Tamara Green that we know of … and how many others we don’t.    

The minions of  ministers would muster the conned-regations to chant “he ours, leave him alone” over and over.. The ministers and their councils, their weakness " the love of $$$,  falling to lick hooves of the Demon Warlock Mayor to receive his $$$$ favors. Their hommage payment, preach the worship of the Demon Mayor and they continued the spell of confusion cast over the minds of the groups of amoral Detroit denizens; weak in mind, principals, conduct and morals.  Yes, the “I gots mines – I gots the hook up – It about the bling and I gots mines, leave the mayor alone.”

 The citizens whom believe in fairness, justice and sincereity, that effort becomes honest diligence and fair remuneration. The people with heart, vision, and friendship in their hearts see through the lies and culmany.  They will bring to justice the one smitten by the lost, because the Warlock Mayor promises good times of  feeling good, the effects of  a narcotic induced dream, now ends and his nightmare begins … his pact with Satan corrupted he must now pay the price, because he is a lifeless man walking, his soul collected, his eternity ends.

 He has been charged and now the he must walk a gauntlet, and soon  the net cast wide for those that would mock and corrupt truth, oaths and honorable people, will no longer be able to hide in the shadows … they are being exposed by the clear, clean light of Law applied.  And those that conspired, the “Thee Witches of Eastwood[ward], one is at the burning  stake… two to go!

 IROQVN! I said that! William Bishop, Detroit Michigan

1-207 UCC all rights reserved.        

Mr. Anthony Adams, Deputy Mayor of the City of Detroit,  

Political Appointee Deputy Mayor Adams of the City Detroit, you said that” …after talking to several other prosecutors and attorneys, it is their understanding that for someone to be charged after a civil trial with perjury, to be highly unusual.” Well it is my understanding that we shall see. 

 Consider the following ---  Mr. Deputy Mayor (DM) did you discuss how highly unusual the situation is here in Detroit? Mr. DM did you discuss how highly unusual the amount of money the Mayor and his cronies have stolen from the City Detroit? Did you tell them how the obscene theft of funds involved the highly unusual method of using the legal resources of the City of Detroit to “lie” to the City of Detroit City Council, to get these funds released?

Did the people you talk to know the following:  Why Mr. DM, you were principal in the Mayors operations, you should know …. Oh hell, you should be charged too. “You don’t look like a laya, so you gots ta be a playa.”  

Did you direct the highly unusual interdiction teams to obstruct justice? Did you direct the legal team to prevent the highly unusual  timely arrival of Sky-tels copies of 14, 000 text messages from reaching the court in time?  How is it you were not at any of the Mayors parties? You mean to tell me and every one else you don’t have any “professional women working for you?” There nothing wrong about it, but are you still in the closet and are you  on the “down low?”   “Call the ball DM, walk the hall. Holla. Holla!”

 Mr. DM did you explain that the Mayor you serve is always exposed in some seedy position in some motel, hoetel, or brothel at taxpayers money? Is that highly unusual? Then he and his sex texted moaning hoes are also  on the public dole? Wouldn’t you think that was highly unusual?

Mr. DM you have no credibility, if you are the alleged advisor to the Mayor then you did him a disservice and  failed, him, the city, and importantly … the people. You ... need to resign!  

I see charges coming your way because; your each and every movement from day one requires accountability of your non-tranparent activities.   I believe that you have been operating under the radar scope, because you are the facilitator, the man in the shadow, the bag man, message man, the Mayors “cloak and dagger capo.” You direct the others of the Goon Patrol to keep the treasury open and to drain the bank. In my opinion, I believe you are the King Pin of the Mayors Henchmen, Your are evil and despicable, and utterly disgusting. Your only interest is that the Mayor rides, till you finish filling your off shore accounts. That is highly unusual, don't you think?

Is it highly unusual  to ask direct questions and not get direct answers? Is it highly unusual for the Mayor to wave his arrogance and use Jesus as a con?  Is it highly unusual for a corrupt crook of a politican to visit the inside of prison cell?

  These are questions for the people to answer by way of courts, inquires, investigations and audits. Charges need be made and the people need to make the case. And then the people will make the call. Is that highly unusual?  It might cost millions more, but, it will be money well spent to ensure that justice is served. If found innocent, that would be highly unusual, but good luck. More likely the Mayor and all of his capos, rats, goons and bullies can reopen a closed prison to accommodate him and his entourage. .  Here’s an idea, how about Michigan open a prison exclusively for the confinement of politicians and public servants that have over stepped the boundaries of their office? Sure could be a money maker, there doesn’t appear to be any shortage of willing guests that continue to skirt the law.  You know what I mean Vern because that isn't highly unusual!

 IROQVN!  I said that! William Bishop, Detroit Michigan 

 1-207 UCC all rights reserved.

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The issue of race surfaced in a very derogatory manner that was just devious and plain ignorant. A blogger on the boards submitted this query:  

“If you refer to yourself as African-American I would like to know what part of Africa you are from and if your here on a visa, legally or did you sneak in[?]”