Brick By Brick -- Your Criminal Edifice

Now that I'm the new Mr. Big, with Tony's death, I've got a lot more free time, time that I'm using wisely to keep myself focused and centered. I'm looking at it, in part, as time for reflection, with the idea that reflection contributes to my overall success.

Being a criminal, friends, isn't the easiest job in the world, that is, if you do it right. The prisons are full of dumb ass schmucks who thought it'd be easy, but then, and there's no known exception to this, they got sloppy, which is another word for stupid. These days, of course, there's a lot of dumb asses who post their exploits on social media, blogs and the like, which anyone with three weeks experience online can trace in seconds. And so they go to prison. Stupid! The problem is not enough reflection.

I've been reflecting today that establishing and maintaining a good criminal life is kind of like building a building, like building and maintaining a house. There's lots of similarities, and you can almost get lost in the comparisons; it's uncanny how many points of congruence, or overlap, there are. Leading me to think, and it's just a theory, that the first house-builder must have been a very successful criminal. Even to this day, you hear of burglars targeting houses, or criminals apprehended at houses, like a crack house. So there's a real closeness.

Anyway, we reflect, we start thinking, we gather our thoughts, we grant our minds free rein and our thoughts the ability to roam. And they keep returning to this idea that a good criminal life and the building process are very, very -- extremely -- close.

The first thing to our house is the basement and foundation. The basement and foundation may not be the "sexiest" parts of the house. The "sexiest" parts would have to be the shower and bedroom. But the basement and foundation are extremely critical to the house's integrity. It is that which is "foundational" that will stand you in the best stead over the long term. When the winds blow and a tornado or mudslide come through, if the foundation isn't any good ... then good luck! In fact, when vicious storms come, where do we go? but to the basement! Likewise, in the criminal life, you don't start out as Mr. Big. You start out at ground level, but what you first establish there will continue to ground you later.

The house then goes up. You next see its structure, similar to a body's skeleton, 2 x 4s placed horizontally and vertically and nailed, with all the water pipes and electrical conduits where they need to be. Without a basic structure -- let's say you just propped up a bunch of unsupported walls on the foundation -- something less than a doctorate tells you it's going to collapse. Because everything has to be supported. Similarly, in a good criminal life, one in which you're not immediately in prison, you need a structure. This could be a good gang, a network of associates, or looking at it another way, your growth in intelligence and how you let your experience at the foundational base rise up as a supporting structure.

Next, they put in the walls. I've never yet been in a good house that didn't have walls. Walls and windows. I'm serious here, I like good walls. They're useful, like if you have a stoolie and you want to put your arm up against his neck and raise him off the floor. You can't get a guy's eyes bulging out if the wall isn't there for support. Or say you simply don't want your house open to the outside elements 24/7, you need walls. In the criminal life, as we follow our reflections on the good criminal life, the walls represent an enclosure or environment for yourself. In other words, you're not simply exposed. When you're exposed, you're in prison in no time, where they have very good walls.

What comes next? Of course it'd have to be the roof. What good is a roof? Let's think about it a minute. A roof protects the inside of the house from sun, rain, and bird poop. It tops off the house, and helps keep what's inside in good condition, so you can live there comfortably for years to come. In our good criminal life, the "roof" means you've worked yourself up from the ground level and denotes completeness. Also, just as an actual roof makes a great lookout point for cops on the horizon, from your "roof" you can see more clearly the vistas, the opportunities of your criminal future.

I probably should mention all the furnishings, paint, wallpaper, appliances, flooring, alcoves, linoleum, and the like, that make the inside of the house comfy and cozy. You wouldn't want a house that didn't have anything in it! Unless you were just holing up somewhere till the heat died down, or you were doing quick drug deals or something like that. In an actual house to live in, you want nice things, like maybe a fireplace to burn evidence in. Or a toilet with a strong industrial flush. Similarly, in your good criminal life, you're not stealing money and jewels, swindling and cheating just for the hell of it. That'd be pointless. You're doing it so you'll have nice things, bling and other cool things. Because that's what life's all about, enjoying what you have and hoping no one takes it from you.

An Upset Stomach

SUMMARY: A guy deals with the knowledge that one's stomach is as big as one's fist. He refers to his stomach by showing his fist, getting him in trouble.

If we wrote this as people took it, we might say, "He threw himself into the melee with reckless abandon, stomachs a'flying, and was able to clear the floor. Only later did he calm down and become increasingly aware of a terrible pain. Looking down at his bloodied flesh, it took a physician to bandage up his battered stomach."

Because his fist and his stomach were one, in a sense. They had told him years ago, in school, that his stomach was the same size as his fist. He remembered the lesson so well; he had a photographic memory when it came to comparisons of unseen organs with the seen. So his stomach, like his heart, were the same size as his fist! It was a good way to learn.

Except he liked to show people the size of his stomach, holding up a fist, along the way leading to misunderstandings. Maybe had he taken a professorial tone, instructing them that a comparison was in process, it might've been different. But just to hold up a fist and assume the other party would know what he's talking about, it didn't always work that way.

The first time was in school, right after he learned the size of his stomach. He went to the school lunch counter. The lady asked if he was hungry, and he held up a fist. She took it as a menacing gesture, there being zero tolerance for such things in school, and he was immediately expelled. His mother and father at home were taken aback, asking what happened. He held up his fist, apparently not thinking to explain the situation with words, and they threw him out of the house.

He had no better luck with the pacifists, a group of peace-loving people he fell in with. They were headed to The Great Lawn, a grassy public spot in his town, to protest. One of the pacifists said they needed to stop for something to eat, saying, "I feel a bit peckish." Our fellow, hoping to show complete solidarity in the desire for a meal, held up his fist. The pacifist got the message and had to chastise him: "Dude! No! We're pacifists! No fists! You're out!"

He wandered on his way, forever in an increasingly bitter contemplation on the comparative sizes of his heart, fist, and stomach, with his stomach winning out through hunger. Penniless, he showed a kindly fruit dealer his tightened fist, who called for the police, leading our guy to jail.

In the jail, he's so hungry he orders a double portion, a meal twice the size. The jailer teases him, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach!" A brand new comparison confused him. "No!," he shouts, then holds up an insistent fist.

"Hey!," the guard goes, "now you get nothing! ... I have power to give you a meal to fill your stomach! And I have power to deny your stomach a meal!"