I was driving home last night, and these cops were trying to handcuff this dude in the middle of the street. It looked like that video of Rodney King, where he kept trying to get back up. The really fucked up part was that he was moving all weird. He was trying to get back up but he wasn’t trying to his his arms or legs to get back up at first. Finally it looked like something clicked and he started getting up and lunging at the cops. Maybe he was on drugs…..

I don’t know what the hell was going on.

A couple more cop cars showed up later. I think the dude was trying to bite them. He looked like shit, too.


Brain Case Part 11

April 16, 2010

Buck and Dr Stevens were in my room one day with me and we were talking about my options. You know, it was shit like, “SO, could we conceivably put him in a body and replace his brain with the brain of a chimp and sneak him out? Maybe take him to France on a private plane and do the procedure there?”

Sure, we could have found people to help us replace my brain with one from a chimp, but it would have been hell for everyone if we’d gotten caught. We only seriously discussed the chimp brain for a few minutes. Then the doctor and Buck looked at each other, and started laughing.

The conversation went something like this.

“You know, we could just replace his brain with one from someone that’s brain dead. We could stick Sam’s brain in someone’s body without anyone knowing.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No, it’s not crazy. It’s illegal, but it’s not crazy.”

“No, it’s crazy. Someone would notice a missing brain.”

“I think they’d understand if they knew.”

“Right, but they wouldn’t know.”

“We could tell them, and then kill them.”

That’s when I said, “Well, what about a chimp brain? They’re about the same size, right?”

Dr Stevens said, “That might work…but I don’t know how we’d switch you out with it.”

“What about doing it on that orderly’s shift?” I asked. “I think he’d go along with it.”

“You really think so?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, I really do,” I answered, thinking about the orderly’s apathy. “I think if we approached him, he’d go along with it.”

“Hmm,” said Stevens, “What if we did it during one of my visits, at a time when he’s working? I could pretend you’d flatlined, get him to confirm it, and then take you out of here.”

“Yeah, but that’d require us faking Sam’s death, and that’s fucking messy,” said Buck.

Dr Stevens looked over at her husband and frowned.

“Jesus Christ, Buck, why do you have to be such a fucking downer?”

That kind of ended the chimp brain idea, but I still think it would have been fucking funny.


The first person we talked to in our pow-wow was a senator that I’d never heard of, but that’s just because he was elected after they’d turned off my tv. Senator Robertson was a crusader, kind of like Buck. They’d actually been friends back in college, or at least knew each other. Either way, they knew each other well enough to have a couple of beers together sometimes, and they’d kept in touch since they’d graduated.

“So, I read up on this case,” Robertson said. “Mr. Lawson, it’s disgusting, and horrific, but the fact is that they have a case for the injunction.  However…I’m fairly certain that I can work up some support for an addition to the current law they used in court to get the injunction. I can’t be any more specific than that right now, but it would add some kind of clause about duration. Obviously, there’s extenuating circumstances here. What you’ve been through…I can’t even imagine how hellish this has all been.”

“Want me to tell you?” I said, dryly.

“Some other time. I can’t talk for long, but I can tell you that I promise to do everything in my power to help.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, I’m not gonna forget. This is a B.F.D., Mr. Lawson. Don’t get cynical on me.”

“He does that a lot, senator,” Stevens said, smiling pointedly at me.

I made a mental note to give her the finger for that when I finally had a hand to do it with. The senator continued, ignoring what she said.

“Well, he’s kind of entitled to be. I mean, hell, I’d start wondering about the basic nature of people if I were in his position. You see all these people living their lives, and they see other people suffering, and they don’t do a goddamned thing to help. They’re too focused on going about their daily lives, and they don’t stop to raise holy hell when somebody stops them and tells them how things are. It disgusts me, just thinking about how indifferent people are. All they do is tuck their heads under their wings and pretend it isn’t raining shit on them. And what does that get them? It gets them covered in shit.”

I decided, right then, that I liked this guy. Sure, he was a politician, and not to be trusted, but even so, a lot of politicians are not to be trusted. That doesn’t mean they aren’t trustworthy. Okay, yeah, that doesn’t sound right, but fuck it. The point is, he was all right.

Dr Stevens wasn’t quite convinced. She laid into him just a little. “So,” she asked, “Why haven’t you done anything about this before, if you’re so familiar with his story? You act all self righteous, but I feel like you’re putting on a show here, to make yourself look good or something.” The senator didn’t answer right away. I think he was caught off guard. The look on Buck’s face when she said that…I can only imagine he must have had that look on his face when he realized his wife was about to beat the shit out of him. Senator Robertson said to her, “You know, you’re right. I’m being kind of a hypocrite here, going on about injustice, but the fact is that you can’t do everything at once; sometimes you have to be reminded about things, and sometimes you need to be reminded with a brick to the head, and sometimes you have to be reminded with a slap to the face. And sometimes you need to be reminded by having somebody beat the shit out of you when you’re tied up.”

Buck’s face turned red. He looked over at Stevens, and said, “How many people did you tell?”

I laughed my ass off at that. The senator said “What the hell is that noise?” Dr Stevens said, “That’s what it sounds like when Mr. Lawson laughs.” “Jesus,” said Robertson.

I cut in. “Listen, I appreciate the platitudes, Senator. But, I don’t want you saying shit about what you’re going to do for me unless you think you can make it happen.”

The senator didn’t answer. Dr Stevens said to him, “The point is, we need to know what we have to work with, in terms of getting him out of that jar.” Buck still looked like God had just shit in his mouth. Even so, he tried to keep his composure. He was a lawyer, after all…though I imagine being in a court room and being next to your wife with people that knew she kicked your ass after catching you with another woman are two entirely different kinds of stress. I wouldn’t know. I never cheated on my wife, and if she’d found out about it, she would have put my head up on a stick in the front yard. Proudly.

Buck finally snapped out of it. “Senator,” he said, “What are the chances we can get Brandenhoff to agree to a concession here? Without it needing to go to court?” Senator Robertson said, “Not much. They’re playing for time. The longer they wait, the bigger a hole they dig for them, so they’re trying to pretend this will go away. They don’t want to make any kind of agreement, because it’ll essentially be admitting guilt. Especially since they were the ones who got the court order, they’ll be doing everything possible to not agree to anything.”

“So, we’re going to have to be prepared for a fight then.”


Dr Stevens and her husband looked at each other. Then they glanced over at me. “The good news is,” said Robertson, “Mr. Lawson has one hell of a pain and suffering claim on his hands. He’ll never have to work again, for starters–” I smiled inwardly. I was really starting to like this guy now. “—And,” he said, “If it turns out that they ARE responsible, and they hid that information…well, hell, the law says that the money from the fines they’d get hit with for withholding information, be it knowingly or unknowingly, regarding their liability, goes straight to Mr. Lawson as well.”

“Call me Sam,” I said.

“Sam,” the senator said to me, “Brandenhoff actually isn’t trying to screw you. They’re a company. They’re protecting themselves. Granted, what they’ve done is morally reprehensible and unethical, but it’s not against the law. That’s what makes it hard to fight. For all we know, it was just a flaw in the electrical wiring that caused the crash. They might not have any liability at all, and therefore owe you nothing. That’s the thing you have to be careful of if you go to court with this thing.” “Yeah,” I said, “and why is the investigation into the crash still ongoing?”

“That’s an issue I plan to take up with the FAA as soon as possible. I’ll tell you this; a lot of people in Congress listen to what I have to say. It’s one of the advantages of being an independent moderate. I listen to both sides, and give everyone as much respect as they earn. If someone acts like they’re full of shit, I say it to them, publically. It’s one of the reasons I’m so well known. And, generally, the majority agrees with me when I say it.”

Buck said, “It’s true, Sam. He’s got a tattoo on his ass that says ‘cut the shit’.”

I thought to myself that a tattoo on his ass that said cut the shit could be taken in a couple of ways, and most of them couldn’t be talked about in front of children. Robertson ignored Buck, and went on. He said, “If I come to the leaders of the parties that have the biggest numbers about either amending the law, they’ll listen. One alternative would be to have a hearing about it to put pressure on Brandenhoff. Might also bring in the manufacturers of the plane and the pod. Personally, I’m in favor of the latter option. Makes for bigger press, and a bigger embarrassment for all parties involved, though as I understand it, Martin-Raytheon did try to provide some kind of relief to you.”

“Yeah they did,” I said. “They have even offered to pay for the procedure and all medical expenses. Apparently the CEO, Tom Edwards, his mom was a brain case for about a month because of a shooting incident.” Robertson said, “I heard about that. They were actually able to clone her body successfully without any growth faults.” “Yeah,” I said, “Luckily. Imagine having a new mom but she’s the same mom, right?”

“Well, this is all very nice,” said Buck, “But this is all just hypothetical. When do I get to sue somebody?”