second email from ramashiva to razzo
----- Original Message -----
From: "RazzO" <ticorazz@yahoo.com>
To: "William Coleman" <ramashiva@earthlink.net>
Sent: Friday, August 25, 2006 10:45 PM
Subject: Re: Hi Bill
: Hey Bill,
: I could care less about the Chip and Doyle and Russ stuff.
Bullshit. You are lying. If you don't care at all about Chip and Doyle and Russ, then why have you spent so much time and energy the last five years attacking Russ and defending Doyle? If you expect to be my friend, you need to be completely honest with me. That means telling the truth about Chip and Doyle not just to me, but to all of RGP.
I am tired of all the bullshit and nonsense. We both know that Chip and Doyle are card cheats. They always have been and always will be. It is time for you to make a full confession to RGP and tell them everything you know about Chip and Doyle. It is time for you to tell RGP that, as one of Chip and Doyle's minions, you have devoted the last five years to attacking and discrediting Russ.
: If one of you feel some need to post your e-e-mail to me, go ahead.
: The reason that I initially declined to help you was because I don't want the responsibility with your home and the contents in it.
Who said anything about your being responsible for anything??? All I am asking is for you to come out to my house twice a week and feed and water my cats. If my house gets broken into, you think I am going to blame you??? It is extremely unlikely that anyone would break into my house now. After the first breakin, I put iron bars on all the doors and windows. All the doors have dead bolt locks, and the doors have an iron bar door with an additional lock. Plus, all the neighbors, including the local street gang, are scared to death of me. More than once, I have transformed myself into the Angel of Death and walked up and down the streets of my neighborhood screaming --
"Listen all you dumbass Mexicans and White Trash, this is my neighborhood. You all take orders from me. Nothing goes on in this neighborhood without my approval. There will be no drug dealing or other criminal activity in this neighborhood without my prior approval. If you are dealing drugs, pimping whores, or fencing stolen property, I expect a cut of the action. Is that perfectly clear to all of you? Anyone got anything to say to me? I thought not."
When I transform myself into the Angel of Death, this is what I do.
I put on black Levis and a black Nike sweatshirt. Then I put on full body armor. Then I put on a heavy leather black jacket. Then I put on my black London Fog trenchcoat. Naturally all this bulk makes me look absolutely huge -- like I weigh 500 pounds.
Then I put on a gun belt around my waist on top of my trench coat. On the left side, I put on a Ruger .357 magnum revolver with a 3" barrel. On the right side, I put on a Ruger .357 magnum revolver with 6" barrel. Then I take my .300 Remington Magnum sniper rifle and sling it diagonally over my right shoulder with the rifle behind my back, naturally. Then I take my M1A .308 combat rifle and sling in diagonally over my left shoulder. In case you don't know, the M1A is an exact replica of the legendary M-14, which is the rifle I carried and trained with in both Marine Corps boot camp and Marine Corps infantry training. Then I take a bandolier with quick reload cylinders for both revolvers and loaded magazines for both rifles and sling it over my right shoulder. Then I take another bandolier with 50 rounds of 12-gauge shotgun ammunition and sling it over my left shoulder. This shotgun ammunition is 3" magnum shells each loaded with two ounces of BBs.
Then I put on my $200 Bausch and Lomb sunglasses. Then I put on my $300 black Stetson hat. Then I pick up my 12-gauge Winchester Defender with an 18" cylinder bore barrel and a seven-shot magazine extension. Then I load my Winchester Defender with seven rounds of the aforementioned magnum ammunition. Then I chamber a round in the shotgun and take the safety off. Then I walk out into the street. As Carol King says, you can't talk to a man with a shotgun in his hand.
You had better believe that there is no scarier sight on Earth than the sight of Ramashiva transformed into the Angel of Death.
: Now you tell me you live in a bad neighborhood and have in fact been broken in to.
Yes, I live in a bad neighborhood. But I am the baddest motherfucker in the neighborhood, and all my neighbors know it.
: I also love cats as do you and Russ. I have had many cats as a child and an adult. More than you, I'd bet.
I am not interested in getting into a pissing contest about who has had more cats. I have always had many cats all my life, and I will continue to do so. Do you know why I have so many cats? For the same reason witches and warlocks like to keep cats around. Cats protect against evil spirits, the same way dolphins protect against sharks.
: I am concerned for you and your cats...but, didn't you think your response to my response was over the top and uncalled for?
Not at all. In fact it was quite restrained. If you had told me in person what you told me in your email, I would have put you in the hospital or the morgue.
You do not seem to understand what I have been going through since my father died. First of all, it turns out that this guy Ray Calderon, whom my mother hired to provide 24/7 care to my father, ripped off my dead father after he died. It seems he stole a bottle containing about 100 Percocet tablets. In case you don't know, Percocet is a Class I narcotic and goes for about $5/tablet on the street. I have already confronted Ray about this, telling him that if he stole drugs from my dead father and sold them illegally on the street, I expect 50% of the action. He implicitly admitted that he had in fact stole the Percocet and sold them on the street by agreeing that he owed me $250 and would pay me ASAP.
Ray's story is that when a client dies, he throws all their prescription drugs in the trash. Yeah right, Ray. Then why didn't you throw away the rest of the shelf of prescription drugs he was taking? No doubt you will say you only throw away Class I narcotics. Then why didn't you throw away the bottle of 30-milligram Morphine Sulfate tablets? Must have been because there were only five Morphine tablets, so you figured it wasn't worth your while to steal the Morphine.
Now, yesterday, I finally realized that Ray also stole one of my father's guns. When my mother first hired Ray, I put a .357 magnum revolver and an expensive Italian .25 semi-automatic pistol in a dresser drawer in his bedroom. After he had been caring for my father for a couple of days, I asked him --
"Did you find the handguns I left in your dresser drawer?" His answer was "yes". I then asked him, "Since you are a Viet Nam veteran, I assume you know how to use those weapons?" Again, the answer was yes.
Now, in the aftermath of my father's death, my mother and I have been inventorying all my father's personal property to decide what we want to keep, what we want to sell, and what we want to give away. Do you understand that a man accumulates an incredible amount of detritus in 87 years of life? Just yesterday, after a thorough search of the entire house, I determined conclusively that the Italian .25 semi-automatic pistol is missing.
All my father's guns are now my property. Anyone who steals my property can expect severe consequences. Ray Calderon has an appointment with the Angel of Death.
If this bullshit wasn't enough, one of my airhead cousins named Betty White took it upon herself to steal my grandfather George Coleman's watch. George Coleman gave this watch to my father Paul Coleman, who, in turn promised me several times that the watch would be mine when he died. This is no ordinary watch. It is at least 100 years old with a gold case. It is a large round pocket watch. I have no idea what the watch is worth, but it could easily be worth thousands of dollars as an antique.
Now Betty technically didn't steal the watch, since my mother gave it to her. The only problem is, the watch was not my mother's to give. At the moment of my father's death, the watch became my property. Now, neither my mother nor cousin knew at the time that my father had promised the watch to me. But they certainly know now. Here is what has transpired --
After the funeral, my mother said to Betty --
"Would you like your Grandfather Coleman's watch? I doubt William would be interested in it."
Huh??? What the fuck??? I don't know where my mother ever got that idea, but she has been coming up with a lot of weird shit since my father died.
Naturally, Betty readily accepted my mother's offer. Notice Betty did not bother to ask my mother whether she was sure that I wouldn't be interested in having my grandfather's watch. She then also asked whether she could have a large framed color photograph of a church in North Carolina which my great great great great grandfather Coleman (still named Kuhlmann) founded about 1800.
In other words, my father was barely buried, and my cousin Betty was already picking over my father's possessions like a vulture picking over a carcass. Betty has a history of doing this. She pulled exactly the same stunt 25 years ago when my uncle Ray Coleman died. Uncle Ray was a wealthy man, and had many fine personal possessions. My Uncle Ray was barely buried when she and some of the other Coleman family went to his house in Chester, Illinois. Again, picking over his possessions like vultures picking over a carcass. I had previously gathered this had happened from remarks my father made when he returned from Uncle Ray's funeral. I confirmed the story in detail yesterday when I talked to my cousin Jerry Coleman to ask him to mediate what has now become a major crisis over my grandfather's watch. I asked him if there was any truth to the story that Betty and some of my other Coleman cousins had gone to Uncle Ray's house right after the funeral and divvied up his personal possessions. You know -- Here's a nice cashmere sweater: I'll take that. Here's a nice leather coat; why don't you take that? Jerry confirmed to me that this had indeed happened, because he witnessed it first hand. I asked Jerry if Betty White had participated in this looting of Uncle Ray's personal possessions. He confirmed that she did. I asked Jerry if he had participated in this sacrilege to my Uncle Ray's memory. He told me that no, of course he hadn't, but he witnessed it. I asked him if he found such behavior totally disgusting in the aftermath of the burial of a rich relative. He said, yes, of course he did.
Jerry also told me that he had a similar experience to my experience with our grandfather's watch after Uncle Ray died. Uncle Ray had a very nice four-carat men's diamond ring which he promised to Jerry when he died. But Uncle Ray forgot to put that detail in his will. After Uncle Ray's death, Jerry searched Ray's house, but could not find the diamond ring. He told all the Coleman relatives that had participated in the looting of Uncle Ray's house that the ring had been promised to him, and that whoever took it should return it. No one admitted to taking the ring, but it mysteriously showed up as an anonymous Christmas present the following Christmas. In other words, the Coleman family, of which I am ashamed to be a member, is populated by thieves and vultures.
Now, I didn't even know that my mother had given my grandfather's watch to Betty until about a week ago. In other words, for three weeks, my mother never even bothered to mention to me that she had given the watch to Betty. I had noticed that the watch was missing from its display case, but just assumed it had been put away for safekeeping.
About nine days ago, my mother brought out a steel lock box with some of my father's personal possessions in order to inventory them. I discovered that my father was somewhat of a coin collector and had a stash of silver coins. The box also included two Pierre Cardin watches with gold bracelets and a large diamond on the face of each. These watches reminded me of my grandfather's watch, so I asked my mother where was my grandfather's watch. She replied that she had given the watch to Betty, because she didn't think I had any interest in it. Naturally, I went ballistic, and my mother and I had a three day knock down drag out shouting match, during which she totally infuriated me by refusing to give me Betty's number so I could call her and demand the return of the watch. Eventually, she gave me Betty's phone number and I called Betty.
I informed Betty that the watch was my property and was not my mother's to give away. She told me that she didn't have the watch -- that she had given the watch to Kenneth Pribble, who is Betty's brother and also my first cousin.
I informed her that Kenneth was in possession of stolen property and that I demanded that he return it immediately. She laughed at the idea that the watch was stolen property, so I explained this to her --
At the moment of my father's death, the watch became my property. This property was taken without the knowledge, permission, or approval of the owner of the property. That is the definition of stolen property.
I then ORDERED her to tell Kenneth to take the watch down to a Federal Express office the next day and ship it to my Las Vegas address insured for $5000. She said she would do so.
After three days or so, the watch hadn't shown up, so my mother called Betty and asked whether Kenneth had shipped me the watch. Betty said he hadn't had a chance to do so, but that she would make sure Kenneth sent the watch right away. Betty also said that Kenneth would mail the watch, not Fedex it, and that he would send it to my mother's Boulder City address, not my Las Vegas address. So for the next few days, my mother and I waited around at her house in Boulder City for the mail to come, because we figured we would have to sign for the watch. After a week, still no watch. So, two days ago, I called Betty again and asked her what the fuck was going on. She told me Kenneth still hadn't had a chance to mail the watch, but she would make sure he did so right away. I again explained to her that Kenneth was in possession of stolen property, and he didn't get to decide to mail it instead of Fedex it, and that he didn't get to decide to send it to my mother's Boulder City address rather than my Las Vegas address.
Then, yesterday morning, I got a phone call from a woman I didn't even know existed. I answered the phone and a woman's voice asked in an imperious tone -- "Is this William Coleman?"
I answered, "Yes it is. Who the fuck is this?"
She responded, "Shut up, you foul-mouthed idiot."
I responded, "Listen, lady, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but NO ONE talks to me like that."
She responded, "I am Betty Jo Ann Pribble. That's who I am."
I responded, "I have never heard of you. Who are you again?"
She responded, "I am the wife of Kenneth Pribble, your cousin."
I responded, "Oh, you mean my cousin Kenneth Pribble, who is in possession of stolen property which is mine, and refuses to return it?"
She responded, "The watch is not stolen property. You are an idiot."
I responded, "Listen, you whore bitch from hell, the watch most certainly is stolen property. The watch was taken without my knowledge, approval, or permission. That makes it stolen property. And I am most certainly not an idiot. I have a 200+ IQ and I can prove it. I have my IQ test scores. I ordered Betty White over a week ago to tell Kenneth to Fedex me the watch insured for $5000. I am still waiting."
She responded, "I want you to stop calling Betty White and harassing her."
I responded, "Huh??? Lady, you do not tell me who I can and cannot call. You are not in any way part of the Coleman family. You are not my blood relative. You are not Betty White's blood relative. Betty and I are first cousins. We are blood relatives. You do not tell me I cannot call my first cousin whenever I want. Got that? Now when are you or Kenneth going to Fedex me the watch insured for $5000?"
She replied, "We are not rich like you are. We can't afford to send it that way."
I replied, "Rich??? What the fuck are you talking about??? I'm not rich. I am broke. I barely make enough money to scrape by. If my mother had not provided me a house to live in rent-free for the past twelve years, I would probably be out on the streets."
At this point, Kenneth Pribble, who had obviously been listening in on another phone, pipes up, "Then get on welfare, you worthless bum."
To which I replied, "Uhh, Kenneth. Who exactly do you think you are talking to? This is your cousin William Coleman. I could stomp you into a grease spot on the ground in about five seconds. You do not talk to men like me in that way. Haven't you learned that yet?"
Kenneth replied, "Listen, you do not have a 200+ IQ. You are an idiot. You try anything like that and I will have Tracey White kick your ass."
I laughed hilariously and said, "Tracey White? That fat ass piece of dog shit? He wouldn't last five seconds with me in a fight. Now Kenneth, you have called me a worthless bum and an idiot. I expect you to retract those remarks immediately and apologize, otherwise you can expect severe consequences. Consequences that not Tracey White nor anyone else will be able to prevent."
And the conversation went downhill from there. You get the idea. Tracey White, as you probably don't know, is Betty's son and Kenneth's nephew. He is 6'4" and weighs about 350. He thinks he is a tough guy. Like I said, he wouldn't last five seconds with me in a fight. Immediately after he threw the first punch, he would be on the ground, either dead, or with multiple skull fractures and other broken bones.
So you see, Darryl, I already have my plate full with hassles. I thought I had the cat situation handled with you. Remember when I first talked to you months ago about this, and I told you I might be making an out of town trip and needed someone to feed and water my cats? I told you I would help you with your computer for free if I could count on you to feed and water my cats while I was out of town. I thought we had an agreement to that effect. I guess not.
: The problem is the responsibility, as I said. Now what?
Now you need to give me a definite answer as to whether you can feed and water my cats. Otherwise, I will have to make arrangements to board them at a cost of $90 per day. And you need to come clean on RGP about Chip and Doyle, and also about Doug Dalton and Bobby Baldwin.
We both know that Doug and Bobby have been letting Chip and Doyle fleece the rich tourists for years, in exchange for a piece of the action. I warned both Doug and Bobby in my first posting of "RAMASHIVA ON DOUG DALTON" that they needed to comply with my request to reinstate my poker playing privileges at the Mirage and the Bellagio, or they would face the wrath of Ramashiva.
Doug and Bobby have not complied. Doug and Bobby will now face the wrath of Ramashiva. You need to pick sides here, Darryl. On one side are Doug Dalton, Bobby Baldwin, Chip Reese, and Doyle Brunson.
On the other side are William Coleman, Russ Georgiev, and anyone else who wants to bring down the corrupt cheating Poker Mafia once and for all. Whose side are you on, Darryl? I like my side. How about you?
William Coleman (ramashiva)
Department of Agitation, Propaganda, and Demagoguery
________________________
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IESOUS CHRISTOS THEOU YIOS SOTER (corrupted version)
IESOUS CHRISTOS THEOS YIOS SOTERES (true version)
Sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and come, follow me.
-- Jesus Christ
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-- George W. Bush, Liberator of Afghanistan and Iraq
From: "RazzO" <ticorazz@yahoo.com>
To: "William Coleman" <ramashiva@earthlink.net>
Sent: Friday, August 25, 2006 10:45 PM
Subject: Re: Hi Bill
: Hey Bill,
: I could care less about the Chip and Doyle and Russ stuff.
Bullshit. You are lying. If you don't care at all about Chip and Doyle and Russ, then why have you spent so much time and energy the last five years attacking Russ and defending Doyle? If you expect to be my friend, you need to be completely honest with me. That means telling the truth about Chip and Doyle not just to me, but to all of RGP.
I am tired of all the bullshit and nonsense. We both know that Chip and Doyle are card cheats. They always have been and always will be. It is time for you to make a full confession to RGP and tell them everything you know about Chip and Doyle. It is time for you to tell RGP that, as one of Chip and Doyle's minions, you have devoted the last five years to attacking and discrediting Russ.
: If one of you feel some need to post your e-e-mail to me, go ahead.
: The reason that I initially declined to help you was because I don't want the responsibility with your home and the contents in it.
Who said anything about your being responsible for anything??? All I am asking is for you to come out to my house twice a week and feed and water my cats. If my house gets broken into, you think I am going to blame you??? It is extremely unlikely that anyone would break into my house now. After the first breakin, I put iron bars on all the doors and windows. All the doors have dead bolt locks, and the doors have an iron bar door with an additional lock. Plus, all the neighbors, including the local street gang, are scared to death of me. More than once, I have transformed myself into the Angel of Death and walked up and down the streets of my neighborhood screaming --
"Listen all you dumbass Mexicans and White Trash, this is my neighborhood. You all take orders from me. Nothing goes on in this neighborhood without my approval. There will be no drug dealing or other criminal activity in this neighborhood without my prior approval. If you are dealing drugs, pimping whores, or fencing stolen property, I expect a cut of the action. Is that perfectly clear to all of you? Anyone got anything to say to me? I thought not."
When I transform myself into the Angel of Death, this is what I do.
I put on black Levis and a black Nike sweatshirt. Then I put on full body armor. Then I put on a heavy leather black jacket. Then I put on my black London Fog trenchcoat. Naturally all this bulk makes me look absolutely huge -- like I weigh 500 pounds.
Then I put on a gun belt around my waist on top of my trench coat. On the left side, I put on a Ruger .357 magnum revolver with a 3" barrel. On the right side, I put on a Ruger .357 magnum revolver with 6" barrel. Then I take my .300 Remington Magnum sniper rifle and sling it diagonally over my right shoulder with the rifle behind my back, naturally. Then I take my M1A .308 combat rifle and sling in diagonally over my left shoulder. In case you don't know, the M1A is an exact replica of the legendary M-14, which is the rifle I carried and trained with in both Marine Corps boot camp and Marine Corps infantry training. Then I take a bandolier with quick reload cylinders for both revolvers and loaded magazines for both rifles and sling it over my right shoulder. Then I take another bandolier with 50 rounds of 12-gauge shotgun ammunition and sling it over my left shoulder. This shotgun ammunition is 3" magnum shells each loaded with two ounces of BBs.
Then I put on my $200 Bausch and Lomb sunglasses. Then I put on my $300 black Stetson hat. Then I pick up my 12-gauge Winchester Defender with an 18" cylinder bore barrel and a seven-shot magazine extension. Then I load my Winchester Defender with seven rounds of the aforementioned magnum ammunition. Then I chamber a round in the shotgun and take the safety off. Then I walk out into the street. As Carol King says, you can't talk to a man with a shotgun in his hand.
You had better believe that there is no scarier sight on Earth than the sight of Ramashiva transformed into the Angel of Death.
: Now you tell me you live in a bad neighborhood and have in fact been broken in to.
Yes, I live in a bad neighborhood. But I am the baddest motherfucker in the neighborhood, and all my neighbors know it.
: I also love cats as do you and Russ. I have had many cats as a child and an adult. More than you, I'd bet.
I am not interested in getting into a pissing contest about who has had more cats. I have always had many cats all my life, and I will continue to do so. Do you know why I have so many cats? For the same reason witches and warlocks like to keep cats around. Cats protect against evil spirits, the same way dolphins protect against sharks.
: I am concerned for you and your cats...but, didn't you think your response to my response was over the top and uncalled for?
Not at all. In fact it was quite restrained. If you had told me in person what you told me in your email, I would have put you in the hospital or the morgue.
You do not seem to understand what I have been going through since my father died. First of all, it turns out that this guy Ray Calderon, whom my mother hired to provide 24/7 care to my father, ripped off my dead father after he died. It seems he stole a bottle containing about 100 Percocet tablets. In case you don't know, Percocet is a Class I narcotic and goes for about $5/tablet on the street. I have already confronted Ray about this, telling him that if he stole drugs from my dead father and sold them illegally on the street, I expect 50% of the action. He implicitly admitted that he had in fact stole the Percocet and sold them on the street by agreeing that he owed me $250 and would pay me ASAP.
Ray's story is that when a client dies, he throws all their prescription drugs in the trash. Yeah right, Ray. Then why didn't you throw away the rest of the shelf of prescription drugs he was taking? No doubt you will say you only throw away Class I narcotics. Then why didn't you throw away the bottle of 30-milligram Morphine Sulfate tablets? Must have been because there were only five Morphine tablets, so you figured it wasn't worth your while to steal the Morphine.
Now, yesterday, I finally realized that Ray also stole one of my father's guns. When my mother first hired Ray, I put a .357 magnum revolver and an expensive Italian .25 semi-automatic pistol in a dresser drawer in his bedroom. After he had been caring for my father for a couple of days, I asked him --
"Did you find the handguns I left in your dresser drawer?" His answer was "yes". I then asked him, "Since you are a Viet Nam veteran, I assume you know how to use those weapons?" Again, the answer was yes.
Now, in the aftermath of my father's death, my mother and I have been inventorying all my father's personal property to decide what we want to keep, what we want to sell, and what we want to give away. Do you understand that a man accumulates an incredible amount of detritus in 87 years of life? Just yesterday, after a thorough search of the entire house, I determined conclusively that the Italian .25 semi-automatic pistol is missing.
All my father's guns are now my property. Anyone who steals my property can expect severe consequences. Ray Calderon has an appointment with the Angel of Death.
If this bullshit wasn't enough, one of my airhead cousins named Betty White took it upon herself to steal my grandfather George Coleman's watch. George Coleman gave this watch to my father Paul Coleman, who, in turn promised me several times that the watch would be mine when he died. This is no ordinary watch. It is at least 100 years old with a gold case. It is a large round pocket watch. I have no idea what the watch is worth, but it could easily be worth thousands of dollars as an antique.
Now Betty technically didn't steal the watch, since my mother gave it to her. The only problem is, the watch was not my mother's to give. At the moment of my father's death, the watch became my property. Now, neither my mother nor cousin knew at the time that my father had promised the watch to me. But they certainly know now. Here is what has transpired --
After the funeral, my mother said to Betty --
"Would you like your Grandfather Coleman's watch? I doubt William would be interested in it."
Huh??? What the fuck??? I don't know where my mother ever got that idea, but she has been coming up with a lot of weird shit since my father died.
Naturally, Betty readily accepted my mother's offer. Notice Betty did not bother to ask my mother whether she was sure that I wouldn't be interested in having my grandfather's watch. She then also asked whether she could have a large framed color photograph of a church in North Carolina which my great great great great grandfather Coleman (still named Kuhlmann) founded about 1800.
In other words, my father was barely buried, and my cousin Betty was already picking over my father's possessions like a vulture picking over a carcass. Betty has a history of doing this. She pulled exactly the same stunt 25 years ago when my uncle Ray Coleman died. Uncle Ray was a wealthy man, and had many fine personal possessions. My Uncle Ray was barely buried when she and some of the other Coleman family went to his house in Chester, Illinois. Again, picking over his possessions like vultures picking over a carcass. I had previously gathered this had happened from remarks my father made when he returned from Uncle Ray's funeral. I confirmed the story in detail yesterday when I talked to my cousin Jerry Coleman to ask him to mediate what has now become a major crisis over my grandfather's watch. I asked him if there was any truth to the story that Betty and some of my other Coleman cousins had gone to Uncle Ray's house right after the funeral and divvied up his personal possessions. You know -- Here's a nice cashmere sweater: I'll take that. Here's a nice leather coat; why don't you take that? Jerry confirmed to me that this had indeed happened, because he witnessed it first hand. I asked Jerry if Betty White had participated in this looting of Uncle Ray's personal possessions. He confirmed that she did. I asked Jerry if he had participated in this sacrilege to my Uncle Ray's memory. He told me that no, of course he hadn't, but he witnessed it. I asked him if he found such behavior totally disgusting in the aftermath of the burial of a rich relative. He said, yes, of course he did.
Jerry also told me that he had a similar experience to my experience with our grandfather's watch after Uncle Ray died. Uncle Ray had a very nice four-carat men's diamond ring which he promised to Jerry when he died. But Uncle Ray forgot to put that detail in his will. After Uncle Ray's death, Jerry searched Ray's house, but could not find the diamond ring. He told all the Coleman relatives that had participated in the looting of Uncle Ray's house that the ring had been promised to him, and that whoever took it should return it. No one admitted to taking the ring, but it mysteriously showed up as an anonymous Christmas present the following Christmas. In other words, the Coleman family, of which I am ashamed to be a member, is populated by thieves and vultures.
Now, I didn't even know that my mother had given my grandfather's watch to Betty until about a week ago. In other words, for three weeks, my mother never even bothered to mention to me that she had given the watch to Betty. I had noticed that the watch was missing from its display case, but just assumed it had been put away for safekeeping.
About nine days ago, my mother brought out a steel lock box with some of my father's personal possessions in order to inventory them. I discovered that my father was somewhat of a coin collector and had a stash of silver coins. The box also included two Pierre Cardin watches with gold bracelets and a large diamond on the face of each. These watches reminded me of my grandfather's watch, so I asked my mother where was my grandfather's watch. She replied that she had given the watch to Betty, because she didn't think I had any interest in it. Naturally, I went ballistic, and my mother and I had a three day knock down drag out shouting match, during which she totally infuriated me by refusing to give me Betty's number so I could call her and demand the return of the watch. Eventually, she gave me Betty's phone number and I called Betty.
I informed Betty that the watch was my property and was not my mother's to give away. She told me that she didn't have the watch -- that she had given the watch to Kenneth Pribble, who is Betty's brother and also my first cousin.
I informed her that Kenneth was in possession of stolen property and that I demanded that he return it immediately. She laughed at the idea that the watch was stolen property, so I explained this to her --
At the moment of my father's death, the watch became my property. This property was taken without the knowledge, permission, or approval of the owner of the property. That is the definition of stolen property.
I then ORDERED her to tell Kenneth to take the watch down to a Federal Express office the next day and ship it to my Las Vegas address insured for $5000. She said she would do so.
After three days or so, the watch hadn't shown up, so my mother called Betty and asked whether Kenneth had shipped me the watch. Betty said he hadn't had a chance to do so, but that she would make sure Kenneth sent the watch right away. Betty also said that Kenneth would mail the watch, not Fedex it, and that he would send it to my mother's Boulder City address, not my Las Vegas address. So for the next few days, my mother and I waited around at her house in Boulder City for the mail to come, because we figured we would have to sign for the watch. After a week, still no watch. So, two days ago, I called Betty again and asked her what the fuck was going on. She told me Kenneth still hadn't had a chance to mail the watch, but she would make sure he did so right away. I again explained to her that Kenneth was in possession of stolen property, and he didn't get to decide to mail it instead of Fedex it, and that he didn't get to decide to send it to my mother's Boulder City address rather than my Las Vegas address.
Then, yesterday morning, I got a phone call from a woman I didn't even know existed. I answered the phone and a woman's voice asked in an imperious tone -- "Is this William Coleman?"
I answered, "Yes it is. Who the fuck is this?"
She responded, "Shut up, you foul-mouthed idiot."
I responded, "Listen, lady, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but NO ONE talks to me like that."
She responded, "I am Betty Jo Ann Pribble. That's who I am."
I responded, "I have never heard of you. Who are you again?"
She responded, "I am the wife of Kenneth Pribble, your cousin."
I responded, "Oh, you mean my cousin Kenneth Pribble, who is in possession of stolen property which is mine, and refuses to return it?"
She responded, "The watch is not stolen property. You are an idiot."
I responded, "Listen, you whore bitch from hell, the watch most certainly is stolen property. The watch was taken without my knowledge, approval, or permission. That makes it stolen property. And I am most certainly not an idiot. I have a 200+ IQ and I can prove it. I have my IQ test scores. I ordered Betty White over a week ago to tell Kenneth to Fedex me the watch insured for $5000. I am still waiting."
She responded, "I want you to stop calling Betty White and harassing her."
I responded, "Huh??? Lady, you do not tell me who I can and cannot call. You are not in any way part of the Coleman family. You are not my blood relative. You are not Betty White's blood relative. Betty and I are first cousins. We are blood relatives. You do not tell me I cannot call my first cousin whenever I want. Got that? Now when are you or Kenneth going to Fedex me the watch insured for $5000?"
She replied, "We are not rich like you are. We can't afford to send it that way."
I replied, "Rich??? What the fuck are you talking about??? I'm not rich. I am broke. I barely make enough money to scrape by. If my mother had not provided me a house to live in rent-free for the past twelve years, I would probably be out on the streets."
At this point, Kenneth Pribble, who had obviously been listening in on another phone, pipes up, "Then get on welfare, you worthless bum."
To which I replied, "Uhh, Kenneth. Who exactly do you think you are talking to? This is your cousin William Coleman. I could stomp you into a grease spot on the ground in about five seconds. You do not talk to men like me in that way. Haven't you learned that yet?"
Kenneth replied, "Listen, you do not have a 200+ IQ. You are an idiot. You try anything like that and I will have Tracey White kick your ass."
I laughed hilariously and said, "Tracey White? That fat ass piece of dog shit? He wouldn't last five seconds with me in a fight. Now Kenneth, you have called me a worthless bum and an idiot. I expect you to retract those remarks immediately and apologize, otherwise you can expect severe consequences. Consequences that not Tracey White nor anyone else will be able to prevent."
And the conversation went downhill from there. You get the idea. Tracey White, as you probably don't know, is Betty's son and Kenneth's nephew. He is 6'4" and weighs about 350. He thinks he is a tough guy. Like I said, he wouldn't last five seconds with me in a fight. Immediately after he threw the first punch, he would be on the ground, either dead, or with multiple skull fractures and other broken bones.
So you see, Darryl, I already have my plate full with hassles. I thought I had the cat situation handled with you. Remember when I first talked to you months ago about this, and I told you I might be making an out of town trip and needed someone to feed and water my cats? I told you I would help you with your computer for free if I could count on you to feed and water my cats while I was out of town. I thought we had an agreement to that effect. I guess not.
: The problem is the responsibility, as I said. Now what?
Now you need to give me a definite answer as to whether you can feed and water my cats. Otherwise, I will have to make arrangements to board them at a cost of $90 per day. And you need to come clean on RGP about Chip and Doyle, and also about Doug Dalton and Bobby Baldwin.
We both know that Doug and Bobby have been letting Chip and Doyle fleece the rich tourists for years, in exchange for a piece of the action. I warned both Doug and Bobby in my first posting of "RAMASHIVA ON DOUG DALTON" that they needed to comply with my request to reinstate my poker playing privileges at the Mirage and the Bellagio, or they would face the wrath of Ramashiva.
Doug and Bobby have not complied. Doug and Bobby will now face the wrath of Ramashiva. You need to pick sides here, Darryl. On one side are Doug Dalton, Bobby Baldwin, Chip Reese, and Doyle Brunson.
On the other side are William Coleman, Russ Georgiev, and anyone else who wants to bring down the corrupt cheating Poker Mafia once and for all. Whose side are you on, Darryl? I like my side. How about you?
William Coleman (ramashiva)
Department of Agitation, Propaganda, and Demagoguery
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IESOUS CHRISTOS THEOU YIOS SOTER (corrupted version)
IESOUS CHRISTOS THEOS YIOS SOTERES (true version)
Sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and come, follow me.
-- Jesus Christ
God told me to smite Al Qaeda, so I smote them. Then God told me to smite Saddam, so I smote him also.
-- George W. Bush, Liberator of Afghanistan and Iraq
posted by William Coleman at 12:11 PM
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