What is the story, what's the best way to present the dark side of the justice system to the innocent. You don’t fear that here on OS, the messenger will get killed- you just don’t much like being the bearer of bad news. Sure, you don’t mind alerting someone that a a new celebrity has died, and even get a bit of a kick, but that’s the sum of it.
You were clueless just 3 years ago, now, and you would not easily believe this. You still don’t really . You have no choice.The beast only seems to get bigger..
Give those bastards, credit- they succeeded in making it sound so crazy that the teller risks the “ Are you crazy?” question.” The teller must sputter and eventually shrug and say, “ It’s just too crazy.” It is crazy.. Well, at least till now, that’s how it’s been.
Was that their ultimate goal? Did they have a master plan. You’re not paranoid or irrational- you never engaged in much conspiracy talk, even. You learn that you pride yourself on being terribly reasonable among other things. You learn so much about yourself it a relatively short span of time. You yearn for a time when you don’t have to learn so much.
Now, you are sure that is as simple as this: It was their bad guesses that led to big messes. Mix in some malice, poor predictions based on past experiences, and dashes of arrogance , and the stew became such poison.
Today, smoking on your porch, you saw a pretty and together looking blonde woman screaming in spanish , Puta this Puta that,and then she raved some other words in Spanish and then in English and she was saying, “ The jails of Los angeles are full of police rats. You don’t know.” And normally, I’d diagnose her a tragic schizophrenic. I’d contemplate mental disease and feel a spiritual nausea at my inability to understand any good reason for such existential ailments. I’d doubt a benevolent deity, and deflate in some unnoticeable way.
Anything could happen. You are immune to nothing. Life is not a movie and your happy ending very well may not come.
But, now, 3 years later, I wonder if she cracked the same way I feel I could have cracked. One more holding cell, one more strip search, one more meeting with cruelty and real evil and CRACK.
I’d bet they were counting on me cracking. Why else deprive me my antidepressants for thirty days- while two of their doctors had ordered me forcefully medicated and declared me incompetent to stand trial?
I didn’t crack though. I don’t know why. I stayed sane, and you won’t find me screaming obscenities on some street about real or imagined events. Despite it all, my sanity was a constant. But, they tried so hard to pretend otherwise. Whatta story.
In jail, my first “bunky” had cracked. She was a suburban housewife accused of Elder abuse and she was hiding her meds. She went from completely lovely to insane in the same minute. She’d say to me, “ Would you like a cheese puff” and within the same sixty seconds she would tell me that her mother is outside and that Tommy(her husband) was hiding in the phone lines, and so chatting on the phone was off limits
She would say to me, “ Alisa, I’m so sick of all these women and their baby daddies and we’d laugh, and I'd feel some rare relief, and within another same minute she’d say, “ I want lunch but I can’t go out and risk Stuart coming and stealing our sheets.” I’d ask who Stuart was, and she told me, but I didn’t comment on the fact that he might steal our sheets though I tried to assure that I thought the massive amount of deputies always around would keep her safe.
She also was being followed by someone named Stella, and this reminded me of my first day in Jail and how funny I found something. Let me tell you: So, I’m in the van nuys jail and there is no logical reason for this, and I figure they think one day in jail will do the trick and they didn’t know I got a lawyer the day before and I’ll get out on minimal bail in the worst case scenario. So I’m lying in this very cold cell in Van Nuys and I’m in a decent mood. I hear in the next cell a girl complaining very loudly that they have made a mistake and she is a city worker and this is a case of identity theft gone very bad for her. And, a jail guard comes by and she is very very kind to this woman. And, the woman is relieved and she asks her her name. And, the woman says, “Stella.” And so Stella goes away somewhere I can’t see and the woman starts screaming and I don’t blame her because she sounds innocent to me and I’m innocent so hey complain all you want. And some nasty jail guard tells her to shut up. The woman begins screaming, “Stellaaaaaa, Stellllllllllllla, Stellla!!!!!!“ And, I find this so amusing- this very fucked up Stanley Kowalski thing going on . It turned out that she was totally innocent and she was very soon released. I wonder if she got to tell her story in any meaningful way.
Back to day 4th day in jail with the yuppie Bunkie having a psychotic break. You see, in her lucid moments she told me that she’d had “breaks from reality” at times. But, she didn’t seem to think this was one of them, and so I had to entertain her fears of Stella coming through the toilet in between bouts of genteel normalcy. Then she began doing stuff like saying, “ I want to scratch her eyes out. I want to scratch her eyes out.” And I said, “ Who, not me, right.” The next day they figured out that she hadn’t been taking her medicine and took her away to the crazy crazy place where they were said to be handcuffed to tables all day. I got a new Bunky and that is a book in itself.
Anyway, I’d lie up there and take it in and wonder wonder wonder how and it felt so strangely lucky to still have my sanity. What was happening was threatening it – you’d suppose. I was in jail for no understandable reason. There was no charges, no accusations even,- just the fact that Jeff Dunn had said, “ I read your blog.” How dare I, they thought. How dare she? they thought,
“ Fuck you, how dare You, you don’t mess with the Spitzbergs” I thought, and so it went. There I was declining a cheese puff from a presumed elder abuser in a room that was part dungeon and part toilet. . I had no appetite at first. Soon I lived for cheese puffs and the the only bright spot of incarceration- COMMISARY. Also, a book in itself.
Where does it start? Ok, I’ve concluded that it’s not a blog post. I don’t feel confident that a series of blog posts will get read in chronological order etc. I know that truth is too important, and I don’t have the nerves for more misunderstandings. I know that they have succeeded in making something very simple- appear to be impossibly complicated. What is that simple thing? It must be this: You are a very decent human being. You literally would not hurt a fly. Your mother and sister might swat the fly but they too wouldn’t want to hurt it. Good people. Anyone who knows us know that.
You wouldn’t even swat it. You, this you, this person accuses of things they never would do, and you are slandered beyond anyones imagination. That story never had a chance to even get hinted at. You are jailed for 30 days, and the …. competency atrocity.
You sit on that top “bunk” and you wonder if you did do anything to deserve these relentless series of punishments. What did you do? Well, maybe that time in College 20 friggin years ago where that Mormon girl wanted you to not smoke and you were rough with her and said, “ This is a smoking apartment and I need to smoke. I specifically requested a smoking apartment. “ But she cried and told you how much she likes you and please not to smoke cause she has asthma ,and accidentally got this room, and she just knew you were the best roommate possible. And, she left the next morning and wrote you a letter how you ruined her faith in humanity and you were rotten because you firmly told her too bad I have enough stress and I need to smoke. You didn’t really like her anyway. She was so innocent and clean and …. Mormon. She was also very pretty. You didn’t mind that she was innocent clean and pretty . You considered that you were those three too, really But she was too innocent- obnoxiously innocent. Maybe a little stupid. But, so pretty. You certainly never begrudged anyone their good looks. The prettier the better wasn’t a motto but you held it to be true.
Jealousy is unfamiliar to you, so why are you telling them how pretty she was/is – It’s important because it entered into your reasoning- she’ll be fine being so pretty, and so you are tough with her when she pleads with you to not smoke. You have always been madly in love with your cigarettes. You’ve heard how in the holocaust many forewent food for cigarettes and you know that that would be a no brainer- family, cigarettes, and food. Your first three great loves.
It’s not like you kicked a hunchback to the curb. She was pretty and had money and was from Utah. Didn’t the Mormons do well for themselves. She’d be fine, I’d think, through a plume of smoke.
The other people in the college “ apartment” all mocked her letter and told me she was an asshole who was trying to guilt me for no good reason. But, till today ,I feel bad. I felt very bad. I remember how callous everyone else seemed and I do remember thinking , “damn, I’m a sensitive soul.”
I have no idea what became of her. I knew she appeared fine when you were still in that shitty school for that shitty semester( SUNY PURCHASE aka SUNY poor choice) were in that School. Thank god she didn’t commit suicide right after or die at some point and you were apprised, and became haunted for life. You would love to apologize to her for being cold when there was a better way.. No. As far as you know… she’s probably healthy and wealthy. Maybe even wise, it’s possible. You even remember her name. It was/is Mariah. I don’t remember her last name so I can’t find a way to really apologize. I bet she wouldn’t remember. No. Scratch that. I should not bet on anything anymore.
You are now sure that this was the deal:
Allison Sievers is a personal friend or a friend of a friend of Tig Notaro. She works for the premier bully bullshit creepshow moronface lawfirm called Lavely and Singer. Tig Notaro gets to Allison Sievers through Beth Redick, a personal friend. Not sure, but pretty sure. Notaro is flailing. She’s lying about someone- saying they were violent with her and this person was publicly removed from the club any “alternative” comedian needs to be a part of . She’s heard about this person, knows very well that this person needs Largo, she’s even read her silly pig poem, and she now sees that this person is not going to take an accusation of violence – that would lead to the destruction of her dreams .
This person is flailing too. She doesn’t know what to do. She knows she not only didn’t push this “Tig’ but that when she met her that one time she was nice to her. She also knows that Notaro , On April 7 2008 , made her business to stand by her as she was signing her credit card receipt, and that Notaro either planned this or just had a very ugly moment that is turning into much more than a moment. Spitzberg was surprised to see her standing an inch away and she said, “ Good show.” Notaro decided then and there to do something bad. Something that was already masterfully rendered in Lillian Hellman’s ,” The Childrens Hour .”
A sloppy accusation that slips out, and becomes such a … sad sad story.
If Notaro was a human being with a conscience , she’d apologize. I’d let her bullshit, - Say, it must have been that I resembled someone that pushed her. She could have talked about that terrible memory(she has shown to be so proud of on her embarrassing blogs)
Spitzberg is stupidly forgiving. She would have forgotten it if Notaro had made it clear to Griffee and any witness there that it was a big mistake. She keeps giving them chances. They don’t take them.
Her name would be the same- spotless, really, and she could pursue what she should pursue. Spitzberg wrote Willen, who she thought she knew a little and she said, “ Why is this happening. You were there . You tell me that you witnessed any violence. There was no response.
She wrote this because she knew from Notaro’s face that night that something wicked was at play. She rememberd how well liked she was when she did comedy in New York and Austin and how different it had seemed in Los Angeles. Her gut knew then and there that this stranger was the cause. But, she’d concluded with great intensity that the pursuit of a comedy career was a long overdue destiny and when that feeling flagged, her mother pushed her. “ Kid, you must do it. That’s why we came to L.A” And, she hated the day jobs. She was too ebullient or effusive for them or something. She wanted to shake so many and say lighten up- you are buying into bullshit. Let’s stop with this let’s touch base and other pro-fesh-ional groupspeak. It was deadening and seemed unnecessary if this time she’d just—follow through.
Plus, she’d made a bizzarro deal with God that she’d do it if her mother didn’t have pancreatic cancer.
But, they don’t know this and they don’t care. To them Notaro represents success, for the moment. She is a client of Lavely and Singer. They work with Lavely and Singer all the time. Lavely and Singer and them have the same investigator even. For gods sake, When their founder was insulted in a book they used Lavely and Singer as their lawyers. So, now they are in West Hollywood and they know this is a joke. They actually make that clear on too many occasions. They don’t think Spitzberg is guilty but they are doing a favor for Lavely and Singer. Allison Sievers is a personal friend and she is imploring to scare off this penurious Spitzberg person who is supposedly maligning her client online. This Elite Threat Management Unit of the LAPD never took or would take a “case” like this ,but here they are and they must be amused- they must feel as if they are in some comedy. And, they play act on the city’s dime. But, that’s okay. Because, down the road there is a lucrative market for their services and Marty Singer is the go to guy. LUCRATIVE. That’s the kind of stuff I find out. I find out more. Spitzberg finds out that Notaro rather than begging her forgiveness has decided to pretend that Spitzberg is her stalker. There is no evidence to suggest this and Spitzberg never had a thing to do with Notaro before the false accusation but this is what she finds out. And, she finds out and finds out and months pass and she is banned from everywhere and she finds out that Notaor is requesting green rooms and special services as she is being stalked . Spitzberg can’t tolerate this. Spitzberg never even gets crushes, has never written a fan letter, and certainly wouldn’t stalk an ugly illiterate comedian such as Notaro(harsh but true).
Spitzberg sues for Defamation on August 13 2208. It is a very winning lawsuit. There is ample evidence to show that Notaro has defamed not only Spitzberg but Spitzbergs sister and Mother. There is ample evidence that Notaro is either lost in a fantasy world or is just a sick sociopath who enjoys ruining the lives of people who have nothing to do with her. 2 Weeks later a fraudulent restraining order obtained because of an unholy alliance between Lavely and Singer and Judge Gerald Rosenberg is suddenly violated. My mother, of course, feels like she is being suffocated. This is not the America she’s always been so annoyingly gung ho about. This can’t be. So she calls this “Detective” Gregozek who she assumed was “human, “ and she screeches about how sick this is etc ,and what does he say. Verbatim, this is what he said in a weary voice(it was on speakerphone.)
“ What can I do… You sued her didn’t you.”
To be continued.