Another update on the grant foundation center and Sylvie Ditman

Sylvie is most likely the alias of a lass named Patty Patchrint. She and her boyfriend (the lad who called and threatened to kill me) run the Grant Foundation Center, pitching themselves to government agencies as trainers. The two live in L.A., not far from the Hacienda Heights hangout of Suvadepa (spelling?) Patchrint, who at 58 is probably Patty's proud pappa.

They then hire a schmuck (that could be you!) a week ahead of time and throw him/her/it into the classroom. Mass student dissatisfaction ensues over matters like lacking coursebooks. Its all very South Korea-i. By the time the students vented on the aforementioned schmuck, Patty and her loverboy are off to the next town. The grant foundation center used to be called the ICI- institute on communications something something.

They either pitch themselves to government agencies as people who know all about getting stimulus moolah: or at least they say they pitch themselves to government agencies. Its possible that no government body has ever heard of them.

A few more words about the grant foundation center and sylvie ditman

I won a default judgment against them in small claims court here in nyc. Three default judgements would mean the ability to sue again, this time for triple damages. Just sayin'.

If you want to get in touch, make a paypal contribution. It can be a nominal amount: the sum is not the point- the point is to leave behind an email address that only I can see.

Thoughts?

teaching is totally hardcore

So you think of teachers, you think "old lady in a sweater singing about cows." But hopefully this blog has taught you, my faithful reader(s?) better than that! Remember how incredibly useful the Korean mob was for enforcing my contract in Ansan? America is a slightly more evolved place of course: here, we sue.

Yes, I find myself being a litigious soul. Not just down south (hearing 8/31) but in nyc as well. Especially since that time that the grant foundation center (1 800 343 9073) and a lass who called herself Sylvie Ditman decided to hire me for a course, and then not pay me. Sylvie, whose # is available on request, rather prudently blocks my caller ID now, which is strange since she was the one who claimed that the check has been mailed. Of course, I did go through that phase where I simply redialed her # hours on end, back when she was going through the phase of ignoring my calls.

After making the rounds and reporting them to everyone under the sun, I could see my efforts bear fruit when, on August 5 2009, I received a phone call from (213) 804 3626, a Los Angeles phone number, at 6:34 PM EST on August 5 2009. Now, LA is also, by coincidence, Ms. Ditman's hometown. Just sayin'....

The called was a male, with no trace of an accent or any
other ethnic markers. His voice was distorted, possibly with a voice synthesizer. He said "next threat you make you gonna die." I took this to the NYPD's 115th precinct,
who said he would have to call three times in order for this to be called a criminal act. Pressed harder on the issue, NY's finest asked me "is your phone number really important to you?"

Coming this fall, I am slated to probe the minds of infants with the help of EEG's. Perhaps lab ratting will be a less arduous endeavor.

Worrying for the first time

You know that saying from Machiavelli that if you shoot the king, you better kill the king? Well for the first time in a year I am wondering if I can kill the king.

So as my Malaysian, Budapestian and Parisian friends can attest, nothing ever really goes away

I have said before that living in NY cramps my blogging style even if I may live in the most intimate/isolated place on earth, where people see each other every day and still leave you be. [A funny combo by the way.] That does not mean that nothing is happening. I am on summer break before starting CUNY where my GPA bounced back to 3.7 after being down in the 2.5 range in Louisiana. Funny that. Speaking of which, the hearing with the lovely Ms. L and her fetching attorney/pet whale went well- for me. I quite enjoyed hearing Ms. L's dulcet tones as she affirmed, under oath, that we never emailed each other and than have her read those emails into the record. The pet whale did not enjoy the proceedings quite as much, likely because that was the first time she truly grasped what an outstanding clusterfuck was coming her way. She gave it a try, mumbling that I must have made those emails up from scratch, a good argument that would have been better if she hadn't been the one to forward me some of those emails in the first place.

Email is awesome. Email is terrible. Emails never really go away. When Obama wanted to fill his White House with hopeful folks he asked all of them to give a list of any bulleting board/internet chat/message board comments they ever posted. Has he gone mad? What if Eric Holder got wasted on seventy proof liquor and posted on hunkylawyers.orgy that he was looking for an albino benefactor with a seven foot long schlong?

Of course that's how men are: entirely visual. That doesn't mean that men just want boobs tho. I have known many women with big boobs who weren't worth a bucket of warm spit. We just want to get a handle on who we're dealing with. But going back to email (hey its an Asiatown blog: if you can't deal with discussing boobs, spit, psychology and email in one sentence you really should leave), it sticks around somewhere out there, for ever. Just like blogs. So when I logged onto this thing for the first time in forever and a day, I noticed that people from Asia and Europe were still checking out my old blog at http://asiatown77.blogspot.com

And so you should. It's masterful if I may say so. Plus it will keep you occupied as I, asiatown the non reintegrated one, sits back and watches rats tear each other apart over the possibility, albeit a remote one, of maybe getting cheese outside of a cage again sometime.

No, but really

So a quick work/life/etc update for the millions who want to know. (More like jillions I am sure.)

Stocks: pretty good actually

School: scored an A for the fall term. Funny how I had As before and after Louisiana...

Suit: After a prof told me that JackDa didn't like my schnoz I filed some papers asking for all their emails- including ones which I saved on my server. Funny how they told the court that the emails don't exist when i saved them. Court date at the end of the month. Should be fun. ("Mrs. L, you wrote that no emails exist between us. Would you please look at these 18 emails?")

Work: What the hell is that? No in seriousness, I am doing some editing stuff and co wrote some linguistics stuff for a prof here in NY.

Passover: excellent. Got home at 3 aM stuffed with some delicious apple thingies. (I am quite Kosher nu?)

Travels: The University of Iowa accepted the paper I wrote for JackDa as a poster (all failing papers get that treatment ya know) and paid for my flight so I'll be in Iowa City for three days, starting Thursday. Never been to Iowa City and I think its time.

I can feel it coming on

It started yesterday. I was talking on the phone with a reporter down in Louisiana (yes, that's still going on) when he mentioned that he'll definitely be in touch once he is done covering the latest news down there which was a) a gang rape and b) a mother who sold her kid for $175 and a parakeet. I think it was the parakeet part that got to me. Then I was emailing with someone and the talk turned to family which naturally made me think of how my cousins and their dad got together to steal from my grandmother's bank account while she was dying. (my aunt, rest in peace, had phenomenally shitty taste in men.)

And today being a generally dark, windy, cold, shitty day just made things worse. It is the urge to crawl into bed, turn out the lights, and finish of a quart of Jack Daniels. This is why I never drink.