The Fairy Tale of the Village That Died

Once upon a time, in a land called Civil Rights Litigation 101, there stood a cheerful little municipality known as the Village of Delhi.

It had streets and sidewalks, a water system and a clerk, a police department and a seal. It attended lawsuits from time to time, as municipalities often do.

One day, the Village was sued through its Mayor.

"Do not worry," said Professor Hornbook to the law students. "A suit against a public official in his official capacity is simply another way of suing the governmental entity."

The students nodded.

"That is easy."

And everyone lived according to that rule for many years.

Then, one spring morning, the Former Mayor was rumored to have departed this world.

The Village sighed.

"Poor fellow," it said. "Somebody needs to step into his shoes in this lawsuit - as Professor Hornbook said - in his individual capacity".

But before the Village could do anything like that, a Learned Attorney Heinel arrived carrying a Motion to Substitute.

She proclaimed,

"The Former Mayor, in his official capacity, shall be replaced by two Trustees from Florida."

The Village blinked.

"Excuse me," it asked politely. "Official capacity? Isn't that... me?"

"Details," replied the Learned Attorney.

The motion reached the Great Castle of Justice Baker.

It arrived from Learned Attorney Heinel.  It conveniently arrived with a Proposed Order and an attached Schedule A with a new caption.  Such respect! - happily thought The Wise Judge Baker.  

So The Wise Judge Baker spoke the ancient judicial words:

"Motion granted" - and signed the Proposed Order without looking.

Lightning flashed.

Thunder rolled.

A pigeon fainted.

At that very instant, something extraordinary happened.

The Village of Delhi looked down at its own feet.

They were disappearing.

"My streets!"

Poof.

"My sidewalks!"

Poof.

"My municipal corporation!"

Poof.

"My taxpayers!"

"Still here," replied the taxpayers.

"But... who am I?"

No one answered.

Meanwhile, two bewildered young women in Florida received a parchment.

It read:

Congratulations.

You are now the Village of Delhi.

One looked at the other.

"I thought we were trustees."

"So did I."

"Do villages usually live in Florida?"

"I don't think so."

Back in the Kingdom of Civil Rights Litigation 101, the law students opened their hornbooks.

The first sentence still read:

"A suit against a public official in his official capacity is a suit against the governmental entity."

The second sentence now read:

"See also: The Curious Death of the Village of Delhi."

The students scratched their heads.

One timidly raised a hand.

"Professor... if the Village did not die..."

"Yes?"

"...who exactly was substituted?"

The Professor quietly closed the book.

"I believe," he said, "that is a question for the appellate courts."

And somewhere, in a quiet cemetery reserved exclusively for municipal corporations, a small granite monument appeared.

It read:

HERE LIES

THE VILLAGE OF DELHI

Municipal Corporation

Cause of Death:
Official-Capacity Substitution

Survived by:
Two Florida Trustees

And the taxpayers lived perplexedly ever after.

I haven't, in a long time, read something so hilariously stupid as (1) the notice of motion filed by the taxpayer (including myself) paid attorney Courtney Heinel, fully rubber-stamped by a long-time judge Christopher Baker.

The attorney sought substitution of the allegedly dead (no admissible evidence on record) former Village of Delhi Mayor Sridhar Samudrala in a lawsuit where I am a plaintiff.

In individual AND OFFICIAL capacity.

Here is how a federal court recently ruled about official capacity claims against individual Delaware County Defendants and the County:

Now, the attorney in question is also municipal counsel for the Village of Delhi guiding the village with her wisdom - at taxpayer expense.

Here is how Attorney Heinel who is practicing law for 10 years,

 advertises herself on the website of her law firm:

And here is the Chemung County Supreme Court Justice Christopher P. Baker 

who endorsed Heinel's crazy nonsense wholesale - a judge who has been admitted to practice law 30 years ago

and who has been a law clerk for a judge or a judge in his own right for 26 years, according to the judge's official biography

Follow me - you won't see this kind of craziness often.

This is the Notice of Motion to substitute a supposedly dead party filed by attorney Courtney Heinel (remember, 10 years of experience practicing law, Village of Delhi's municipal advisor and litigation counsel), the document number on the public NYSCEF docket is 306.  By clicking the link you will open the document from its official court website.

I will duplicate by publishing a scan before they removed this piece of work:

Here is the proposed order that attorney Heinel helpfully drafted for Judge Baker, NYSCEF Document Number 348, and here is a scan of paragraph 3 in that proposed order:

And here is the link to NYSCEF Document Number 352 - showing that Judge Baker simply rubber-stamped whatever attorney Heinel put in front of him - complete with the crazy substitution clause in paragraph 3.

And this is the Schedule A of the order of substitution - the brand spanking new caption of the case:

Now why do I call this portion of the order of substitution absolutely, batshit crazy.

Even law students know that suing a public official in his official capacity is the equivalent of suing the entity he serves.

In other word, suing Samudrala, as former mayor of the Village of Delhi, in his official capacity is the equivalent of suing the Village of Delhi.  Meaning, if (no competent evidence on record) he died - anybody who could be, theoretically, substituted in his place, could be substituted only in his individual capacity.

So, what the above mental exercise of the 10-year-practicing attorney and a 30-year-practicing judge shows is that Justice Baker, at the request of Attorney Heinel, has made a ruling - an official court ruling - that the Village of Delhi, literally, died - and is substituted in a lawsuit by two young women out of Florida, the former mayor's daughters.

And - how many more rulings like this this judge has generated?  Or will generate over his "career" on the bench?

Why am I writing about this?

It is important for those who are - loosely - spending public money TO PAY ATTENTION WHAT they are putting in front of the court (for Heinel) and WHAT they are signing (for Judge Baker).

And WHO they are contracting with for legal services - this is to Village of Delhi government and taxpayers.

And WHO they are electing to the bench (this is - to Chemung voters of Judge Baker).

JUST IMAGINE an appeal like that hitting the 3rd Department - as it will soon:

I appeal the order of The Hon. Christopher P. Baker who ruled that the Village of Delhi has died...  Well...

On importance of not going to court - on some days

The secretary's voice was not reassuring.

- Sir M, there is associate Timmy McJudgeson on the phone.  It does not seem good.  You need to hear it.

Sir M swore.  That son of a... no, I have no complaints, the father is good to us.  But what did he get into again?

At the same time his second phone line started to flash - incoming call from partner.  Incoming call from another partner.  Another... Another...

- What happened? - barked Sir M. at the secretary - because as much as he wanted to bark at McJudgeson, there are limits on barking...

- So what happened, son? - Sir M. could not go any sweeter.

- My l...  my l... my l...!

Sir M. lost it.  

- I am tired of your goddamn love stories! just go do some work for a change, you useless son of a... - he caught himself.

- MY LAW LICENSE!!!  HE TOOK MY LAW LICENSE!!!

That got Sir M.'s attention.

- Son, stop drinking that early in the morning! Told you many times! Your f... well - there is no excuse!

- LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE!  It is the Brut!  He took my law license!

The Brut... The Brut?  

- Are you talking about The Honorable AI Bruticus TM 1.0?  How did your motion go?

- Remember what he said a week ago at what they called "prepared press conference" when he started:  "I am fair and reasonable.  No more word limits.  Do your best".

 - I did!  I gave him a 2,000 page record and a 5213-page brief!  You know what he did?  He blinked.  He displayed "Thought 4s".

And then he displayed:

Sir M. looked at his phone: 56 missed calls from partners.

He did not start returning calls.

Instead he switched on TV.

"...an average of 42% of the workforce was lost in law firms on the first day The Hon. AI Bruticus was presiding".

Timmy Judgeson sobbed on the loudspeaker:  "my f... f... my f... called him as colleague to colleague.... he took his law license, too!"

Sir M. lost it - again.

"Fired!" - he roared.  

And made an important phone call - to his accountant.  

"Come look at our.... well, at my vaults, bro... Looks like we beat the average.  Looks like it is all mine now".

The Miraculous Healing Story of Sir Marcus Josephus McBridus Snailius of The Chenangus Slimery Castle

 

Marcus Josephus McBridus Snailius, Custos Slimi (known to friends as JM Slime), of the pre-eminent Chenangus Slimery Castle, had a problem.

Every morning he awoke with the same miserable feeling: the goddamn suckers just would-not-leave!  They lived in his head permanently, for decades and decades.

They are like a very big very bad penny coming back and back.  He thought they were gone yesterday.  Guess what - this morning they were back - AGAIN.

Fragments floated through his transparent nautilus shell like annoying little bubbles.

"...maligned defense counsel..."

Bubble.

"...not served..."

Bubble.

"...Judiciary Law § 14..."

Bubble.

"...Baby Hancock..."

Bubble.

"...old hag..." - that one was especially persistent - because of that, and that, and that, and, certainly, THAT - and that, too.  That hag!! - really started to bother J.M. Slime's right eyestalk, and the left one, too.

Buuuuuuuubble.

Marcus J.M. Snailius growled.

"They just keep crawling back..."

The bubbles drifted lazily inside of his shell, refusing to dissolve.

Finally he made it to the Institute of Molluscan Behavioral Therapy.

Doctor Gaston Slug, M.D., Ph.D., F.A.M.P.
(Fellow of the Academy of Molluscan Psychiatry)

looked over his spectacles.

"Recurring intrusive memories?"

Marcus sighed.

"They just wouldn't leave."

Doctor Slug nodded knowingly.

"A classic case."

He opened a thick medical manual.

Treatment of Persistent Molluscan Obsessive Retaliatory Disorder

He raised one eyestalk.

"Step One."

"Drown the memories in slime."

Marcus nodded.

"I've tried."

Doctor Slug made a note.

Insufficient slime.

He calmly turned the page.

"Step Two."

Marcus leaned forward.

Doctor Slug lowered his voice.

"Drown THEM in slime."

Marcus stared.

"Them?"

"The source of the memories."

Marcus's eyestalks slowly brightened.

"...Doctor..."

"...that's brilliant."

Doctor Slug smiled professionally.

"I know."

"Would you like the Deluxe Slime Immersion Package?"

Marcus nodded enthusiastically.

By the time he left the Institute, the transparent refinery inside his shell was working at full capacity.

Fresh memories entered through the intake valve - right into the satisfactory foaming green slime:

Justice - bwomp-ya

RIP bubble.

Out of sight - out of mind.

Fairness - RIP bubble

Notice.  

Service.

Truth.

Integrity.  That one was the easiest to sink, being the tiniest of all.

Finally, after a great deal of delightful RIP-bubbling, hissing and filtering, one perfectly polished pearl floated out of the refinery.

It read:

WHEREAS, upon careful consideration of all relevant circumstances, and in the interests of the orderly administration of justice, fairness and protection of the integrity of judicial process, the Court finds that appropriate relief is warranted; accordingly, and for good cause shown...

Marcus Snailius smiled.

Now it looked official and finally - FINALLY - he can be really-really SLIME-HAPPY!!!!

Sir Snailius was SO VERY HAPPY with the results of the Molluscan Behavioral Therapy - he was completely HEALED - at least for now, before the appellicus and vacaturus insects arrive (maybe they will, maybe they won't - but the RELIEF is here, at least for SOME TIME).

So happy that he gave Dr. Gaston Slug typographically printed orders (100 of them, for now, not to undermine incentives for future therapy bouts, if needed) - saying "I APPROVE ANYTHING THE BEARER OF THIS WANTS" - in gold letters.  With officially slimy, pleasantly glowing - and SMELLING! - signature and stamp.

And - Sir Snailius then spread his happy story across Chenangus Slimery and beyond... and beyond... for other snailiuses in other slimeries to learn and awe... and awe...

Dr. Slug sold a lot of these testimonials, as book covers for his exciting therapy promotion.

A Message from the Institute of Molluscan Behavioral Therapy

For over two thousand years, the Institute of Molluscan Behavioral Therapy has been the world's leading provider of advanced Slime Immersion Therapy for distinguished members of the gastropod judiciary, prosecution, and administrative bureaucracy.

Have unpleasant memories?

Do irritating blog posts keep floating back into your shell?

Do phrases like

"...maligned defense counsel..."

or

"...not served..."

or 

     "...you should recuse if all you want is drown them in your own slime..."

unexpectedly invade your thoughts?

Do you suffer from recurrent outbreaks of Judiciary Law § 14, default judgments, or persistent old hag syndrome?

You are not alone.

Thousands of highly respected mollusks suffer every day from Persistent Molluscan Obsessive Retaliatory Disorder (PMORD).

Fortunately, modern molluscan science has the answer.

The Deluxe Slime Immersion Package™

Our patented Slime Refinery™ technology gently removes unwanted memories while preserving the appearance of complete judicial objectivity.

Simply feed intrusive thoughts into the transparent refinery.

The system automatically converts them into premium-quality official prose.

Guaranteed output includes such classics as:

WHEREAS...

Upon careful consideration...

In the interests of the orderly administration of justice...

The Court finds...

Accordingly...

No conscience.

No fairness.

No unpleasant recollections.

Just smooth, professional, courtroom-ready language.

Testimonials

"The goddamn suckers just wouldn't leave!"

— Marcus J. M. Snailius, Custos Slimi

After only one Deluxe Slime Immersion Package™, The Most Honorably Slimy Marcus reported:

✔ Dramatically reduced awareness of Justice

✔ Near-complete elimination of Fairness

✔ Successful suppression of Truth

✔ Permanent disappearance of Integrity

Most importantly—

his official prose has never looked better.

On the use of modern courtroom technology

 

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Delaware, there lived a remarkable Baby.

Unlike ordinary babies, Baby Hancock could miss deadlines, forget to serve papers, file second and third motions before answering, wander into procedural corners, and yet never seem to suffer so much as a scraped knee.

For Baby was no ordinary baby.

Baby belonged to the Great House of Hancock - and Hancock, in its turn, belonged to the Greater House of Murphy - and Murphy was - OOOOH, wasn't he!  He was the CHIEF VERY ADMINISTRATIVE JUDGE OF VERY UPSTATE OF NEW YORK.

Now, deep within the Castle of the Sixth District hung an enormous sign, written in flashing crimson letters dropping blood:

JUDGE MURPHY'S ORDERS

PULL BABY OUT OF ALL CORNERS

OR I WILL JUDGE-SEIDEN YOU!

Every judge who entered the castle read the sign.  Every judge was required to put the sign in prominent places in the judge's abode, with appropriate interface connected to Judge Murphy's chambers - to ensure friendly compliance, of course.

Everybody knew what it means to be Judge-Seidened...  Or to be Judge-DeStefanoed, which was essentially the same.

One particular knight of the robe, Sir Christopher Baker, in full compliance with Judge Murphy's standing orders, read the flashing sign every morning before breakfast.  In fact, he ordered custom-made flashing letters, with appropriate remote interface to Judge Murphy's Chambers, and put them on his fridge.

Take the milk out - look at the sign.  The sign will look at you and ensure compliance.

Want a hotdog - look at the sign, and so on.

No nutrition without looking at the sign and without the sign looking at you.

So, the flashing fridge magnet sign worked: it got etched on Sir Baker's brain, as was the intention.  Because - who would want to "or else be Judge-Seidened".  Self-preservation, folks.

So, whenever Baby wandered into another procedural corner, the royal alarm wirelessly connected to the fridge magnet sign rang multiple bells.  The size of ... "those evening bells .... DOOM DOOM".

So - "Ding! Baby missed another deadline!"

Sir Baker would rush in and gently lift Baby.

"There, there," he would whisper.

Another bell.

"Ding! Baby forgot to serve one of the plaintiffs."

"There, there," Sir Baker would reply, picking up Baby's drooling with a lace perfumed bib embroidered:

**REASONABLE EXCUSES **

and cooing - while casting furtive glances at the fridge magnets with their in-built wireless cameras going right to Judge Murphy's chambers and kitchen -

don't cry, Baby, we will simply adjourn the motion that does not exist and require appearances on it by never-served parties.  BECAUSE - who wants to be Judge-Seidened otherwise?

Another bell.

"Ding! CPLR 3211(e) says only one pre-answer motion!"

Sir Baker frowned.

"The Rulebook clearly needs imagination."

Another bell.

"Ding! Three pre-answer motions!"

Sir Baker looked at the Rulebook.

The Rulebook looked back and shrunk into its own corner.  Sir Baker did not rescue the Rulebook from that corner - why would he?

Nobody threatens anybody to rescue rulebooks out of corners!  

Meanwhile, in the darkest corner of the kingdom crawled the Baby, a/k/a Hancock Estabrook LLP.

Its distinguished counselors trembled behind piles of parchment writings - including baby admissions - labeled:

LAW OFFICE FAILURE

NOT SERVED

DEFAULT

EX PARTE

MISSED DEADLINES

Every few minutes someone would squeak:

"But... we're in another corner!"

Sir Baker would sigh heroically.

"No corner shall contain Baby."

Out would come the royal tow rope.

Out would come another drooling pickup bib.

Out would come another emergency procedural vacuum cleaner.

Sir Baker was a genius.

At amazing speed and with unrelenting vigor he rescued Baby - always! Who would not admire a baby-rescuing hero!

The kingdom did so admire.

It applauded.

One old wizard finally asked:

"Your Honor... if Baby keeps ending up in corners every week... perhaps Baby should simply learn not to crawl - oh, excuse me, walk into corners?  After all, that is what Baby law licenses are for - to learn to walk before stepping in to represent clients?"

The courtroom fell silent.

By that time, under Judge Murphy's standing orders, Sir Baker wore, beneath his judicial robe, at all times, elegant Wireless Loyalty Chains™, remotely connected to Judge Murphy's security cameras and a Gentle Incentive Taser.

The Loyalty Chains communicated directly with Sir Baker's nervous system. Such friendly stimulation was universally recognized throughout the Kingdom as being highly conducive to sound judicial reasoning. Consequently, decisions arrived with astonishing speed.

"Teach Baby?"

Sir Baker gasped.

"Preposterous."

"Baby must be gently rescued at all times. And villains who hurt Baby's precious little feelings must be..."

At that precise moment, another friendly motivational buzz travelled through the Loyalty Chains and into various parts of Sir Baker's anatomy.

"I WILL RESERVE DECISION," Sir Baker suddenly proclaimed, "as to how best to baby Baby in ways no one has ever babied Baby before!"

The Loyalty Chains rewarded him with a delightful full-body Oriental massage.

Quite involuntarily, Sir Baker sighed with bliss:

"Massage is so much better than the taser..." - and got tasered on the spot.  

An urgent procedural update for Delaware County Supreme Court (NY)

I am happy to bring these happy news to court watchers and disabled litigants attending Delaware County Supreme Court sessions.

At the request of Supreme Court Justice Christopher P. Baker, Supervising Judge of the 6th Judicial District, as of today, two significant changes were made to routines of Delaware County Supreme Court:

(1) court watchers of virtual hearings do not need to bother - they will be kept in the virtual lobby during the entire hearing.  Virtual drinks will be offered;

(2) in order to more effectively thwart the Americans with Disabilities Act, all court hearings of Justice Christopher P. Baker in Delaware County Supreme Court will now start at 5:30 a.m. sharp.

The Gory Integrity Story

 

Oh, What a Wayne-2: On the Golden Vacuum of Delco, The Patient Shadow, and the Nature of Entwinements

Yesterday, Wayne Putin The First Marshfield - one of the Senior Meals Heros reported here, the quickly retiring butterfly-fearing hero reported here - was booted by the elegant hoof of Tina Mole off Delaware County's Health Committee.

For no apparent reason whatsoever - except for being a hero in the Senior Meals fairy tale:

He is - SURE.

And here is how the tale begins.

Once upon a time, in the poorest county in New York, there lived Tina.

Tina had two brain cells.

One was named Bonacic.

The other was named You Know Who.

For many years the two brain cells lived together peacefully and ruled the county without incident.

Then both began having difficulties at approximately the same time.

This troubled Tina.

Not because the brain cells were important.

But because they happened to be carrying her crown.

The crown immediately developed cracks.

Jewels began falling out.

Tina pretended not to notice.

For many years Tina's principal source of happiness had been a magical Golden Vacuum.

The Vacuum stood in the center of the county.  Nobody remembered where it came from.  Nobody remembered who had switched it on.  Everybody remembered paying for it and to it.  Sometimes this way:

with children.

The Golden Vacuum possessed a remarkable appetite.

It fed upon taxes, penalties, fees, forfeitures (drug forfeitures most especially - such a yummy forfeiture - right, Dick Northrup?).  It also fed, with great satisfaction upon grants.  The Bonacic brain cell helped Tina in feeding the Golden Vacuum on this particular fuel tremendously.

Most of all, it fed upon prosperity of local common folks, and upon their future.

And, as all golden vacuums have it, it had a very interesting specification: the poorer the county became, the hungrier the Vacuum grew.  And, of course, the hungrier the Vacuum grew, the poorer the county became.

This was considered by Tina's two brain cells an example of proper economic development.

Tina rode the Golden Vacuum everywhere and let it grab everything.

At first the villagers found this unusual.

Eventually they became accustomed to it.

People become accustomed to many things.

Eventually, the Vacuum's appetite became so great that it eventually created a vast canyon, like an abyss, beneath itself.  

The abyss quickly became known among villagers as the Delaware Opportunities Chasm.  It was not really of chasm of any kind.  It was... a crack where Tina's cracked crown pieces started to drop-drop-drop, as soon as Tina's two brain cells suffered what was described as status-shrinking phenomenon.

The chasm soon received a name.  It was the Senior Meals Program. And, the possibly contagious butterfly population problem that was becoming increasingly dangerous towards certain dates like November 4 (a date nobody ever remembered).

That was a dangerous name.  Hurting old people while doing interesting stuff with taxpayer money is what Golden Vacuums happily do, but what villagers frown upon.

So, something - or someone - had to go.

And then - Tina connected her emergency thinking resource: her spinal cord.  It did not really think - no spinal cords do - but it FELT really well.  The danger to Golden Vacuum!  

And, as it usually happens to spinal cords in emergencies, Tina's spinal cord instantly produced just two words - BUT WHAT KIND OF WORDS!!!

IRREVOCABLY INTERTWINED.

The spinal cord stretched with satisfaction.

Not because for that particular spinal cord THAT was a familiar state - no wonder it jumped to mind so readily.

Because Tina herself was happily, and for many years, IRREVOCABLY INTERTWINED in a lot of different things.  Like CWC.  Like other little pet non-profits.  Like little and large PILOTs given to ... well, you know.

But Tina's MOST HONORABLE irrevocable intertwinement (like liaise and supervise, supervise and liaise)

was not Wayne Putin The First Marshfield's MOST DISHONORABLE - IRREVOCABLE INTERTWINEMENT!!!

You must, after all, understand the difference:  that was - IRREVOCABLE INTERTWINEMENT, and this is, on the other hand, IRREVOCABLE INTERTWINEMENT!!!

Even though the Most Pink Irrevocable Intertwinement was - what they call it - Tina's lived experience, the strain of connecting these two words, 33 years after receiving her associate's degree from SUNY Delhi, and never once after that doing anything brainier than operating the Golden Vacuum - caused such strain to her entire being, that she inadvertently nodded, something she never usually does, and a BIG crown jewel dropped into the Delaware Opportunities Chasm.

CLUNK!

But with the CLUNK! sound another brilliant idea visited Tina - Wayne Putin The First Marshfield may be THE ONE!  THE BRIDGE! THE SOLUTION to the little just-starting chasm problem.

And then - a brilliant idea - imagine the strain! - crossed Tina's two shrinking brain cells: let Wayne Putin the First Marshfield be useful for a change.

After all, he was the one who caused all kinds of attentions from all kinds of unwelcome insects to all kind of Golden Vacuum affairs that otherwise were peacefully intertw... well, existing.

So, the work turning Wayne Putin The First Marshfield into usable infrastructure to bridge the chasm began.

First, Wayne Putin The First Marshfield was forced into retirement from his Town of Hamden Supervisor position - no, no, that could not possibly happen, he simple "did not rerun" after 30 years of sticking to all kinds of government offices, with attendant benefits, like a ... very big leather-clad whiskey-sipping velcro.

Second, he was thrown under the bus of The County Health Committee - but as yet is holding up as Delaware Opportunities Treasurer.  Probably, not for long, too.

And - TADA! - THE BRIDGE was born!

It was not bad to be a bridge.  It was mostly comfortable actually.  

Wayne accepted his new fate with dignity.  And whiskey.  Mostly whiskey.

But, even with Golden Vacuum now secured on the back of Wayne Putin the First Marshfield, Tina's spinal cord did not peacefully relax.

There was that inkling feeling... that little shiver on the back... this little discomfort...

No, not with Tina's sidekick Amy who laid more and more ostrich-size lawsuit eggs.  After all, she did it all the time.

For some reason, Tina had worrying dreams.

In those dreams, she saw a regular school ruler emerging from something dark and amorphous - and attempting to do the unthinkable!  That obnoxious piece of wood was measuring her crown!

Sometimes, Tina even saw in her sleep more than a ruler - something that held that ruler - A SHADOW...

A big, dark SHADOW.

Looming behind her.

Calculating.

Measuring.

Clearly making inroads to the Golden Vacuum.  To the Crown.  To all that was - for so long - SO VERY dear and near to Tina.

And then, intermittently, in some of her other dreams, Tina saw helicopters at a distance, and that no-good guy in US Marshall jacket twirling - no, not pink, not fluffy - regular-issue police handcuffs.  That is with his index finger on one hand.   Tina does not even want to recall what he did with his other finger behind his back.

While ALSO looking at her Golden Vacuum and her Crown.

But, as unsettling as the handcuff guy was, Tina's spinal cord trampled her receding brain cells, it kept screaming to Tina: DO NOT be afraid of handcuffs!  Do not be afraid of turtle auditors!  Do not be afraid of butterfly statisticians!  

Be afraid  - ONLY - ONLY - ONLY - OF THE SHADOW.

The SHADOW is the one who looms close by.

The SHADOW is who is unknown.

The SHADOW is who is getting ready to TAKE.

To TAKE IT ALL.

To take the Golden Vacuum - and its magical money-sucking power.

To take the Golden Cracked Crown.

The great big SHADOW continued to loom, with its Crown-measuring ruler, like it had all the time in the world.

And the tiny-tinier-tinest two voices kept telling her - where there are handcuffs, Tina, there will be no Golden Vacuum anyway...