Rubin-Has-No-Life

Among the myriad dupes, shills, fellow travelers and phantom multiple personalities who reside in D-ward is a rather odd fellow who calls himself Rubin, in homage to the mediocre boxer and accomplished violent felon (sextuple murderer, according to some sources) Rubin "Hurricane" Carter. Since the Admou"r is so very enamored of felons, he summarily converted Rubin to Creedmoorer Chassidus, using an WMA to mp3 converter and a catalytic converter along with his standard 110 to 220 volt converter.

For some strange reason, the newly converted Rubin (now called Reivyn), whose name was duly submitted to all welfare offices, signed up for section 8 and disability, and forged on a number of title deeds used for dubious real estate flips, became very attached to the stars of the Creedmoor music industry.

Now, everyone knows that like much in Creedmoor, said stars do not exist. You must understand that the Admou"r takes in over one trillion Estonian forints in welfare cheques, food stamps, SSI, housing subsidies, Medicare and disability per annum. This is supplemented with over three trillion renminbi yuan worth of profits from insurance fraud, arson for hire, cheque kiting, bank fraud, wire fraud, consumer fraud and charity fraud.

And it is for the sake of charity fraud that the Admou"r invented a whole stable of musical entertainers, each of whom occasionally performs for one or more of the Admou"r's fundraisers. Of course, what really happens is that a couple of Creedmoor janitors are paid a couple of cigarettes each to bang pots, pans, drums and stolen auto parts in one of the old treatment rooms which the Admou"r has converted to a stage.

In the meantime, the Admou"r launders money by reassigning subsidy payments or insurance payments from one of his nonexistent personalities to one of these nonexistent performers.

And the king of all of these performers is of course Menivel ben Zimri, or MBZ. MBZ, who exists only in the Creedmoor parallel universe, has had almost a billion Slovenian lira transferred to his slush accounts at the Thirty Second Bank of Vanuatu. And one of MBZ's favorite acts is banging pots and pans to an obscure German Eurovision entry called "Yankel Kahn."

Of course, MBZ, who does not exist, found it very hard to credit the original band, which does exist. Instead, he goes on and on performing his version of the song "Der Admou"r'z a Con", at every pots and pans banging session for every new charity that the Admou"r dreams up.

In the meantime, a less popular act, Pay Tzaddik, is largely ignored, even though their works, such as "Flipped Out Across Boiling Schmaltz" are somewhat original.

But Rubin, you see, is an activist who stands up against every injustice on the planet Mars. So, he sits all day on the Internet, attacking the nonexistent Menivel ben Zimri, and claiming that eleven Moldovan welfare cheques must be transferred to the German band in exchange for use of the tune. As his therapists have reassigned him from basket weaving to Internet therapy, he has even started a blog, called Rubin-Has-No-Life, in which he sounds off like a broken record regarding theft and copying by MBZ. Of course, he cares little that two other multiple personalities are recording MBZ concerts and selling the albums for 100 counterfeit EBT cards a piece!

Needless to say, MBZ and his fan club, consisting of the usual suspects, including Napoleon and George Washington as well as the Admou"r and all of his suborned psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotics, and psychobabblers, are not fazed by Rubin's criticism. So, Rubin goes on and on in his padded cell, tilting at windmills, while all around him, real fraud on a huge scale goes on and on.

Der Hyliger Water-Carrier fin Creedmoor - Introduction

Since Friedcircuits, Dreck and Scheiss are quiet for now, it is not in our best interest to give them any attention whatsoever, since that is what they crave more than anything. Therefore, we will return to the old Creedmoor, with a portrait of Yossele Der Hyliger Water-Carrier.

No Chassidish tale is complete without a simple water-carrier, who through his hard work and uncomplaining nature reaches the highest level of service to Hashem. But the Baal Shem Tov would want and have nothing to do with Creedmoor's holy water-carrier, Anschel Rodriguez.

Anschel Rodriguez was born Anselmo Rodriguez in Canaste de Basura Sagrada, a woebegone and isolated hamlet in Guatemala. At some point, he arrived in the US as a stowaway on the proverbial banana boat, where he hid himself in a shipment of what shippers claimed was "banana powder" from Colombia.

Now, when one inhales too much banana powder of Colombian provenance over an extended period of time, one risks severe brain damage. That is why, when US customs officials opened the crate of banana powder from Medellin, they found a dilapidated, decrepit little man, whose tiny brain, already addled by the malnutrition that was so prevalent in his little village, was now completely obliterated by what had once been an ingredient in Coca-Cola. He was clad in nothing but threadbare boxer shorts, the color of canary feathers in the front and the color of chocolate in the posterior end.

All the gnomelike being could say was "Me llamo Anselmo. Soy de Guatemala. Tengo hambre." (My name is Anselmo. I am from Guatemala. I'm hungry.) According to US law, the undersized stowaway would be eligible for immediate deportation. However, he had no papers, was clearly non compos mentis, and claimed to be from Guatemala although the ship, filled with rotten bananas and enough cocaine to keep all of Harlem fueled for generations, clearly sailed from Medellin or Cali via Panama.

So, the United States of America, and the State of New York, clearly had welcomed a new, nonproductive citizen to its shores. And at the time, the address for addled illegal stowaways with irreversible brain damage was Creedmoor Psychiatric Hospital.

But Creedmoor was not the right place for even the most depraved patient ever since control of its largely empty buildings was ceded, by default, to a spurious self appointed Chassidic rebbe who claimed more personalities than a ton of cocaine has individual grains. As could be expected, an innocent fellow like Anselmo Rodriguez was perfect fodder for Dovid'l Schmoigerman, the Admou"r meCreedmoor, and a perfect cover for yet another harebrained insurance and Federal assistance scam.