Don't give up the ship.
Last night Dr. Bob asked me why I was doing this Dahlia stuff. I told him I was writing a book and I'd let him look at the manuscript. Like that's gonna happen? This is my book. If he's really interested, he can read this old thing. It's all right here, except what's coming, and that will be epochal in scope.
As interesting as this case is, the international hunt down of the warmongers Bush and Cheney and the rest of the neo-con war criminals will be the next big story, but probably won't happen until they leave office in 2009, or are impeached, removed from office and handed over to the Hauge Tribunal. Solving the Black Dahlia murder isn't enough.
That said, I think that I'm coming very near to wrapping this thing up, and even I can't believe what I found. CFD, Baby! This killer is Count Fuckin' Dracula. The King of Drains. He thought he could take her last drop of blood, but her lifeless body held one last coagulated mass she would give up this last to the pavement. The Perfect Criminal then stepped in it, maring her death tableau with a size six heel print. Squish, little feat, squish.
Sure Betty was tough. As tough as they come. But she was no whore, in life or death. She wouldn't die fast or easy. She deserves justice for, and recognition of her valor in the eternal struggle against human evil. That's why I'm gonna identify this character once and for all. Dead or alive.
Perhaps compassion drove the authorities to bury this case. The post war years brought reaction back into style as part of a generalized post traumatic disorder. The wackier war heros were drawn to this. The Ronald Reagan revolution would represent it's full cultural flowering in 1980's America.
Jo asked me again if I was going to go to L.A. for the birthday party in July. I said didn't think so. My work has not been well recieved at all within the active Dahliaphiles as represented by those who post messages at bethshort.com. In fact I'm being hooted at. I'm not going to L.A. to be mocked and insulted. Still, I have hope for one of those breakthroughs of consciousness that Californians are so justly famous for, and then maybe I'll go and stay on the Queen Mary. Arrah! Ahoy thar matey! Eight bells, and all's swell.
10:24:54 AM 
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