Posts

Quote of the Week: At the Core of My Memoir I Built This Prison


Preface:

It must be disclosed that I don’t really find G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown Stories all that great. (Why is it that I so frequently write about things, people, and situations I truly dislike? I wonder what a trained psychiatrist would say about it?) As far as the mystery writing goes, I find them… unnatural, too artificially constructed, almost illogical… For everyone, of course, but the author and his deducing reverend. But naturally, they don’t count, because they are cheats, holding all the cards and the red herrings up their sleeves.

Moreover, I consider G.K. Chesterton a racist, which makes him absolutely unacceptable to me as an individual. Some of his descriptions and the choices of words simply appalled me back when I read him.

(If you feel tempted to verify yourselves that my accusations can actually be substantiated, read God of Gongs. That’s why I’m sharing the link to The Complete Father Brown Stories below. [And no, I’m not an Amazon Associate – it’s purely for your convenience.])

It is hard for me to imagine that any truly unprejudiced and open-minded thinker would be using such language, regardless of his/her native historical period and commonly accepted jargon of the correspondent time. And no, he is not just putting those offensive words into his characters’ mouths for the sake of the conversational authenticity. He uses them as his own narrative descriptives. It’s despicable and utterly inexcusable as far as I’m concerned.

But! One can find a grain of wisdom even in a truckload of manure. And this one goes straight to the heart of the main conflict suffered daily specifically by the American workers in employment of the entrepreneurial business owners – the same antagonism that cemented the foundation of my own madness (“I Built This Prison”):

The Frustrated CFO Suddenly Peeps Out: Did you miss me?


Well, would you look at that?!! It’s been more than 7 (SEVEN!!!) years since my last post… One president went away; the ambitious blonds didn’t manage to replace him: their archenemy won instead and then barely survived his term and its consequences; and then another president stumbled in… And even he is already three quarters of the way through his term… All sorts of fucked up cultural upheavals occurred… A pandemic happened with all of its socio-economic consequences… And all the while, the Frustrated CFO remained silent… What happened? – you may ask…

(And some of you are probably also wondering why the hell this strange person shelled out seven-years-worth of fees to keep this blog dormant, yet alive? And the truth of the matter is that I couldn’t bring myself to extinguish my posts out of the Internet existence even if only one of them had a potential of attracting a single reader… But also: I knew this day would come…)

What happened was that by venting in this blog’s posts my annoyance with political, social, and cultural issues – all that tangent, entertaining, but not crucially relevant shit (since 2010, no less!) – I was simply deflecting from the actual problems in my life, letting the real genuine desperation building, and building, and building… To the point when it eventually achieved a critical mass and I went kaboom! As postal as can be…

Maybe if I myself stuck to the truth I was originally propagating by starting this blog – that writing is therapy – and openly discussed my problems here, I could’ve prevented myself from psychological and moral deterioration… Maybe, maybe not… There were so many triggering factors in my life, which I never revealed to anybody – kept it all inside! And clearly, snapping from time to time under the “Bosses” category at the people who employed me didn’t alleviate the accumulating tension…

But no, when the time of passing into the dark came, I didn’t go at them with guns blazing and got it over with in one violent burst… I hate all sorts of outright violence… Wouldn’t touch anyone one with my pinky… The subversive criminal violating – that’s a different story… The stretched out, torturous  self-destruction of continuous embezzlement… Millions… And none the wiser – for months, more than two years – no one noticing, not having a clue, or inkling… In spite of my burning desire to be found out… So, why the fuck would I write about it here?

A few weeks after I wrote my two-blonds jokes, I finally got caught. It took mere 48 hours for me to return more than a third of the embezzled funds back and get pushed into the hands of Justice. I got arrested… and so on, and so forth.. A short stint at Rikers, sixteen months of legal proceedings, three solid years of imprisonment… The aftermath… Not exactly blogging-inducing circumstances… 

And when the time for the redemptive revelations has come, the scope of it seemed so much bigger than a series of blog posts… Hence, the memoir: I Built This Prison. By the time I started writing it, I was done hiding. This book is possibly the most honest I’ve ever been with myself… About the genesis and the perpetration of the crime. About the various punishments that I inflicted on myself and others as well as those exacted against me. Bringing it to completion took as long as the time I spent in the NYS correctional system. Go figure…

Dear God, forgive me my sins and send me readers! I will even settle for just one…

Hence, you can be sure I will continue talking about my memoir here. Ultimately, it ended up to be a therapeutical exercise – as only writing can be. And I want you to share the experience of it… 

  

   

  

 

  

I Built This Prison: A Memoir of Rage, Revenge, and Repentance


NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

“What are you doing here?” was the question everyone asked me in prison – the guards, the inmates, the civilians. They didn’t think I belonged behind the barbwire and couldn’t imagine me doing anything criminal… I just seemed so fundamentally out of place there…

In a way they were right: under our contemporary standards of morality, for most of my life I was viewed by all as an upstanding citizen. Yet, my imprisonment was well deserved: After devoting 25 years of my immigrant life to staying afloat as career Controller and CFO in the unforgiving environment of private entrepreneurship; channeling my various frustrations through this blog for as long as four years; and writing a CFO guide for Springer – I began stealing from my employer, embezzled millions, and got caught… 

What happened? How could a fairly decent person with strong moral beliefs and exceptional work ethics get transformed into something that repeatedly committed one act of thievery after another? Disappointment and  resentment overwhelmed all coping mechanisms and deteriorated into cunning deception. The depletion of personal means coincided with the overflow of the corporate profits… The distorted mind found the way…

My story is very particular and acutely personal, but in many ways it’s also quite typical… Because this memoir was conceived out of my need to repent, I strived to be honest and as objectively revelatory as I could, unflinchingly analyzing the genesis of my moral degradation and its psychological underpinnings. The book also details the specifics of this white collar crime and reflects on the different stages of its aftermath, depicting my quest for some inner clarity under the most oppressive conditions, in the grittiest of places…  

The result is part chronicle, part cautionary tale, part heartfelt confession, part inquisitive commentary… And I sincerely hope that the readers will find my conversational style compelling enough to forgive the verbosity…

 

 

Clinton/Warren Ticket – Joke of the Week #2


Two blond lawyers wearing Mao suits walk into a bar.

“Look at those hussies frolicking in their despicable sexy dresses,” says the younger one.

“Don’t worry,” replies the senior, “I’ll text my Saudi and Omani pals to come over.  They’ll cover those floozies from head to toe in a blink of an eye.”