Three Shades of Brown:

"So who are you voting for this year?"

"Not sure. I kinda feel that whoever wins, I lose."

I've said before that try to keep politics out of my writing. My success at this has been spotty. If you've read this for a while, you'd be correct to assume that I am on the progressive side. I consider myself a feminist, I do my best not to be racist, and give people a fair shake regardless of their background. I don't always succeed, and when it comes to matter of class and education, I can be downright arrogant, if not completely conceited.

All that being said, I try not to let it colour the way I approach people. Success varies. 

Tonight I'm going to edge close to the perilous edge of political debate. Tonight, I want to talk about the Sweden Democrats and their sympathisers. 

For those of you already well versed in Swedish political history, skip ahead. There's stories below. For the rest of you, here's a little background. 

The Sweden Democrats (SD) are a nationalistic, socially conservative party that has had a place in Swedish Parliament for the past eight years. Their rise to power went hand in hand with an increased anxiety among the Swedish populace about immigration, how the government handled it, and how well they were integrated in society. The Swedish public identified a problem, and SD offered a solution. Whether the problem was real, or the solution was the correct one is highly debatable. Be it as it may, they've been playing Littlefinger in the Swedish parliament for the past eight years.

SD grew out of the BSS-movement. BSS stands for 'Bevara Sverige Svenskt' (Keep Sweden Swedish), a movement that grew out of the neo-nazi movement. Rather than go into detail about the movement's aims and policy (that stuff can be easily googled. I urge you to check out several sources, as bias is very high), I will post a picture of some campaign material they used back in the 1990's. 

Translation below.

On the left, a general image. Note the slogan and the party behind it. 

On the right, two different fliers, top and bottom.

Top: 

"Sweden, wake up!

Problem: Mass immigration.

Consequence: Poverty

Solution: Repatriation. 

Bottom:

Warning! 

To Swedish girls! 

Avoid unprotected intercourse with negroes who carry deadly AIDS!

Preferably: Do not desecrate your race, Your Sweden, Your family and relatives.

Only have abortions in an emergency.

Keep Sweden Swedish.

Charming, right? 

Well, since then, SD cleaned up their act. They got nicer suits, and they changed their rhetoric to nicer words. If you look through their party programme and their list of policies, and values, you'll find that very little has changed. Their list of principles espouse an idea of a nebulous "Swedish nation", which is distinct from say, a "Jewish" or a "Sami" nation. It also speaks of every 'nation' or ethnicity having a kind of inherited 'essence' which is completely independent of culture or nurture. They are also one of few political parties in Sweden who want to limit abortion rights. 

What they haven't done is to make up with their Nazi roots and officially distancing themselves from them. They're pretty fucking mealy-mouthed about the whole deal. Now, all political parties without exception have skeletons in the closet (let's be honest, the 20th century was an absolute quagmire when it came to maintaining humanist moral values), but most of them have admitted this, and distanced themselves from their dirty pasts. Even the Left Party, which used to be the Swedish communist party (but distanced themselves when they realised that the Soviet Union wasn't all that great). This, I believe, is the bare minimum required for a party to be treated with any amount of respect. 

In recent years, they have also shown to be quite simpatico with other far right movements in Europe and the US, such as the alt-right, the Hungarian Jobik party, the french Front Nationale,  among others. They have repeatedly allowed former (?) members of the Nazi movement to represent them, and while they espouse a doctrine of zero-tolerance for racism, it is quite remarkable how many of their party members regularly get excommunicated for being racist. 

I'm not here to point too much of a finger here, but for a non-racist party, they sure do attract a lot of racist people. 

This is not going to become a discussion on the growing movement of far-right nationalist politics in Europe. In fact, it is not even going to be a discussion about SD itself. I've given this background, it is all verifiable (however, I will admit that it could very well be my Zionist overlords who have brainwashed me into writing this, so if you buy into that particular conspiracy I expect you to take whatever I say with a grain of kosher salt). I also happily admit that I'm biased as all hell in this issue. 

No. Tonight, I'm going to tell you three stories about three different fares, each of them unique, but all had in common that they were sympathetic to SD.

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Star-crossed lovers.

Remember that time I discovered that the Swedish police occasionally employs apes? Well, as I was in the process of telling the officers who did what and where (while I did my best to hide my face in the most ridiculous way possible), a drunken party dude sidled up to the car.

"Hey... hey, are you busy?"

One of the officers stepped between him and the car. "Step back sir. You're interfering with police business."

"But I was only asking if he was available..."

"He is not." 

I looked the guy in the eyes (as well as I could, through my shades) and said: "Once they're done, I'll take you wherever you need to go."

The guy accepted this and stepped back. The police finished their business, concluded that they could do jack-shit about the situation and let me go. The guy got into my cab. 

"Sorry about that," I said, while removing my disguise. "I just witnessed an assault and a mugging. The cops wanted me to point out the perpetrators. And I didn't want them to see my face."

"Who, the cops?"

"No, the perps."

"Oh,... Yeah, that makes sense. I wanna go to Seed Grove."

"In that case, I'll take you there."

I was in no mood to drive anyone at all. I wanted to go home, I wanted to curl up in a ball and wait for the anxiety to pass. I was sick to my stomach of work. However, this fare would allow me to fulfil my quota for the the night. And besides, I needed the distraction.

"You'll have to excuse me," I said. "I'm a little shaken up. How are you?"

"Oh... You don't wanna know."

"Actually, I do," I said. "I would very much like to know. I'd like to get my mind off the past fifteen minutes."

"All right then," he said. "Things are kinda shitty."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I was on a date tonight."

"Didn't go well?"

"Oh, it went great," he said. "We really hit it off. She was so pretty, so smart... But... You know... She's VP-K."

"VP-K?" 

"Left Party Communist."

"Is she a time-traveller?"

"No, no... but you know, you can change a name, but that doesn't mean you change your nature. And the problem is that I'm a Sweden Democrat. Like, totally."

"That's one way to look at it," I said. "But yeah, I can see where you two might've hit a snag."

"Yeah, no shit," he said with another sigh. "And it sucks. You know, she called me a racist. Weird thing is, she put up some very convincing arguments to that point."

"Really?" I was amazed. Was I witnessing somebody dealing with a personal epiphany?

"Yeah," he said. Then he smiled triumphantly. "But I have a major argument against her. Pity I didn't use it. You see, I have this friend. He provides me with cheap cigarettes smuggled in from Russia. And I offered her a pack, and she accepted it and when I said I could hook her up, she said yes. So you know, that makes her a tax evader. Total hypocrite!"

Nope! 

"Yeah," I said said slowly. "You could've totally shown her there..."

"I know, right?" he said. "So, what are you voting for this year?"

"I'll be honest with you," I said. "I've not decided, but I'm leaning towards whatever party that's going to offer the best checks and balances against SD's influence."

He looked at me with disappointed eyes. "Uh huh, so you think I'm a racist too, huh?"

"I don't," I said. "I don't know you, and I didn't hear her arguments. I have no idea why you chose to vote for SD. Your reasons could have nothing to do with racism. I'm not here to judge you. All I'm saying is that I can't in good faith support a party that grew out of the neo-nazi movement and hasn't made any amends or official statement about it."

"Yet!" he said. 

"Dude, they've had eight years to distance themselves from that," I said. "Plenty of opportunity. If they haven't done it by now, would they ever?"

"Well what about VPK? When did they distance themselves from their communist past?" 

"I don't know," I said honestly. 

"I'll tell you: When the soviet union fell. And they'd been in the parliament for years before that."

I later found out that it was a lot earlier. In fact, they did it in the 1950's. The party split between those who still espoused communism (and they are still around, officially calling themselves communist) and those who didn't.

"The fact still remains that they've officially distanced themselves from that doctrine," I said. "SD has not."

"Yet." 

Before it turned into a debate, I put a lid on things. I made my point, and told him that I simply didn't have the knowledge to further pursue it. We switched topics. He told me he was a seaman, and that he had recently survived a pirate attack off the coast of India. They had managed to scare them off by angrily waving sticks as if they were guns. They had later heard that a Russian ship had been attacked by pirates too, but had utterly destroyed them using actual guns. I really, really wish I remember the details of that story. It would've made for a great entry. 

So. The takeaway from all this was the following: this guy knew and accepted that SD had Nazi roots. This guy was not comfortable with it and hoped in his heart of hearts that one day, once Sweden was awesome again, SD would officially come out and say: 'We're totally not Nazis anymore'. 

I can't help but feel a bit sympathetic. I don't envy him the potential identity crisis he's in for. 

_______________________

To eat humble pie with a side of crayfish.

I was out in Bishop's Yard, one of those heavily segregated areas in this city where crime is common and poverty is rampant. It's one of those areas of town that are hyperbolically known as "no-go zones" internationally. This is my country's legacy these days. I was once told by a very passionate Filipino guy in Washington DC that Sweden was full of no-go zones and rape. So that's what we're about in the eyes of the international community: Abba, Ikea, and no-go zones. It makes a fellow proud to be a Swede. 

Of course, its not only racial minorities living out there. Three fellows hopped into the car. They were off to town for a night of drinking and fun, and I was the lucky fellow who had the privilege of taking them there. They all had shaved heads, which immediately made me think of skinheads. I also reminded myself that I'm a total hypocrite, since I've been shaving my head to the scalp every since I discovered that male-pattern baldness is not a temporary thing. 

They chatted a bit, back and forth. One of them (let's call him Cueball) sighed.

"Guys, I had to eat humble pie with Lisa."

"Yeah, what happened there?"

"Well, you know me..." he said. "I'm shitty at relationships. You remember a while back, the fight we had?"

"Yeah, you stormed out."

"Sure, that was the end of it. But before that, I flipped a table and I screamed and I acted like a fucking idiot, because I can't deal with commitment, you know? I don't know what to fucking do when I'm in a relationship. So I ran out, got drunk and didn't call her for a month."

"We remember. You were a fucking tool," said the guy next to me. Let's call him Baldie.

"Yeah, but we've patched things up," he said. "You know how it is... I had to let that steam out, and then I realised what the fuck I'd just done. So I came crawling back to her, and had to eat a fuckton of humble pie." 

"I bet," said the guy next to him. Let's call him Scalp. "So did she make any demands?"

"Of course she made demands! When you gotta eat humble pie, you gotta accept the demands, you know?" said Cueball. The other guys nodded sagely at this. 

"Yeah," said Scalp. "When you eat humble pie, you gotta accept everything they want. They got you by the balls. Like when Katie told me I couldn't vote for the Sweden Democrats after she took me back after my fuckup."

"That's what Lisa said!" said Cueball. "That, and I had to be more available. More 'present' in the relationship, whatever the fuck that means.

"Yeah... You gotta make that choice; relationship or politics," said Scalp. "Katie said that too. At the same time, I don't know what the fuck that means. Present? I tried buying her flowers, but she just laughed and said: 'This isn't you, Scalp. What are you hiding? Are you cheating on me?' "

"Yeah," said Cueball unhappily. "Same here. I have no fucking clue how to make this work. But I want it to work."

"You could always ask her for flowers," I said. "Setting a precedent. Make flowers a part of the relationship makeup."

"Hey," said Cueball. "That's not a bad idea. What are you voting for, cab man?"

"Dude," said Baldy. "Don't do this. Let's not get into politics."

"Come on guys, we're all on the same page here, right cab man?" 

"I tend to vote for minor parties," I said, hoping to God this wouldn't turn into a debate. I was not in the mood for holding my own against three united political opponents. I wanted to get paid and get rid of them. "Whoever wins of the big parties, I feel I lose."

"Damn straight! They fuck you, you know? You shouldn't read the media because..."

Thank God for Baldie. "Dude, enough. We've heard the rant before, we agree, and this guy probably just wants to drive us and get on with the next fare. Besides, I can tell you how to be more 'present' in your relationships."

"Oh yeah?" said Scalp. "Go on."

"It's real simple," said Baldie. "See, take me. I fucking love crayfish. Sometimes, I just want to buy a whole bunch and just gorge. But if I did that, Marie would call me an asshole. But the solution is fucking simple. I go and buy my crayfish, some bread, and a bottle of wine. I don't even have to cook; all I need to do is throw the crayfish in a pot, pour out some wine, slice up the bread, and tell Marie: 'Baby, I thought we could have a romantic shellfish dinner tonight'. She gets hers, I get mine. Minimum effort, maximum effect."

Silence hung in the cab. 

"Are you saying," I said. "that you've found a way to life-hack your relationship?"

"Damn straight." 

I have to admit, I was fucking impressed. I mean, it was kinda low and disingenuous, but an elegant solution nevertheless. The guy had figured out how to be a self-centered asshole while seeming like a caring and loving partner at the same time. While I can't agree with it, I can't help but give credit where it's due.

The conversation went on. Cueball kept trying to get me to check out various youtube channels, all of them alt-right, nationalistic, Jews-control-the-media fare. I politely nodded, and pointed out that I was more worried about mass surveillance and data storage than immigration. 

"There's one thing I really don't like about SD," mused Scalp. "They have a really fucked up policy when it comes to abortion. Really fucks women over, you know."

The others nodded in agreement. 

I've been in this business too long to be horrified by all this. But I learned two very valuable lessons:

For some people, women's rights to health and their bodies are a fair price to pay to keep foreigners away from our shores. The other was that if I ever fail at being a life partner, well... there are quick fixes around that. 

_____________________________

The International perspective.

I found myself down at Hunter Street. My mission: pick up a guy called Henry and take him to Maytown. Not a bad fare at all. So I waited, and suddenly there was a knock on my window. I opened it and there was this black guy. East-African, by the looks of him. Probably Somali, on account of the large Somalian diaspora that lives in this city. Later on it turned out I was correct in my assumption

"Hey, you're the guy who's going to take us to may-town, yeah?" he said in Swedish.

"Is this the guy! Big man, we've been waiting for you!" cried a voice behind him in English. Two other Somali guys came running out of the building. I realised what had happened here. It is not uncommon for non-white people in this city to give a very Swedish- (or at least white) sounding name when ordering a cab. This can be for several reasons, the main one being that they're hoping to get around a perceived bias that cabbies won't pick up someone who doesn't sound like they're Swedish. This is all bullshit of course, since I don't know either the name or the destination of the fare until I have accepted it, and the people in dispatch are in the business of getting as many fares for us as possible. That being said, I understand the concern. It is not unfounded, but with Taxi M at least, it is irrelevant.

So I let them in. I quickly assessed the situation. 'Henry' was raised in Sweden. He spoke to me in Swedish and spoke English with a Swedish/Somali accent. His two friends (cousins it turned out) were raised in England and so spoke the dialect common to black people in England, complete with various Caribbean phrases and pronunciations. And like most groups of Somali customers I've driven, they were loud, animated, and seemingly very aggressive. I've learned that this perceived aggressiveness is partially due to inherent Swedish anxiety about foreigners, and in part because swedes tend to be reserved and low-key in their communication, as opposed to most of the rest of the world. So with my prejudices firmly in check (or at the very least, acknowledged and carefully sorted away), I turned on the meter.

'Henry' didn't like that one bit. "Why does it say 20 sek already? I'm to pay you 20 sek just for standing here? You trying to trick me?"

"No, sir," I said. "20 sek is the starting fee. To compensate for the time I spent driving here. It's standard taxi procedure. If you'd ridden with Taxi G, the fee would be double the amount."

He looked at me suspiciously, but conceded.

One of them, let's call him Brit, heard me speak English and shouted cheerfully: "Where are you from big man? What's your name? You sound American."

"Yeah, can't help that. Too many movies. I lived in England once, but I'm Swedish."

"Oh, Swedish! Not Serbian or nothing like that? Then you gotta be voting for the Sweden Democrats, yeah?"

"Actually no," I said.

"Why not?"

"Because they're kinda Nazi..."

"No, no, man! You can't vote for the Social Democrats! SD are the only ones who can save this country!"

By now I was so stressed out by their loudness (yet very charmed by their demeanour) that I'd taken a wrong turn. In order to immediately get out of trouble, I said to 'Henry': "I fucked up. Let me pause the meter until we're back on the right track."

He gave me a surprised look, and then his suspicions melted away. 

Brit shouted again: "I FUCKING LOVE THE SWEDES! They're so honest! That's how to do it! This country is great, so you have to vote for SD! You can't vote for the fucking Social Democrats!"

"I never said I would..."

"No, man!" he roared happily. "You can't watch TV or read Swedish news. Its all part of the Zionist conspiracy! SD are the only ones who care about Swedish culture!"

"The fuck do you know about Swedish culture, man?" said the other guy in the back. Let's call him English. "You've never been here before."

Brit didn't give a damn.

"Look big man... what's your name?"

"Crabby..."

"All right Babby, listen to me. I'm from Somalia, all right? And we got fucked by the British, we got fucked by the Americans. We couldn't hold onto our culture, and we lost it all. And the same fucking thing is happening in Sweden. The Zionists..."

"Don't fucking spread that poison here, man!" said English. "you don't know shit about this place..."

But Brit wouldn't let up. "You have to protect your culture! And SD are the only ones who want to protect your culture. You have to vote for them!"

I was a bit amazed. 'Henry' laughed at Brit, called him an idiot and told me he was voting for the Liberal party, because he was all about business and moving up in the world and pushing back against racism. 

The rest of the trip was a weird blur. I couldn't keep up. I couldn't even enter the discussion. How could I? I don't get loud or brash when I drive. All I remember are these three cheerful, loud voices, disagreeing violently with each other in the friendliest way I've ever witnessed. 

The thing is, I could kinda see Brit's point. He was arguing from a position of lost culture. And he wasn't wrong insofar that Sweden's population in general isn't deeply in touch with their culture or history. That kinda went out of the window when we as a country took a big step away from nationalism after World War 2. Sweden, being a small country, has hungrily embraced the international sphere on political, economic and cultural levels. And to an extent, we've done it at the cost of many of our own cultural touchstones. So from this guy's perspective, coming from a country which had lost its cultural and political integrity, he wanted to warn me of supporting that very same thing. 

However, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Cultures survive if they are meaningful to their practitioners. While it may be sad, well... The majority of Sweden has either accepted or embraced the fact that the deep and ancient parts of our culture isn't all that important anymore. There's nothing unnatural or wrong about it. But it is a bit sad.

However, he viewed it as a Zionist conspiracy - it was of course the Jews that were behind the 'cultural marxism' and 'globalism' that was destroying cultures worldwide, including Somalia and Sweden. And had we been alone, I would've dismissed him as just another idiot. I kept counting down the seconds until he'd start ranting about George Soros, but thankfully he refrained from that.

Luckily, his cousins 'Henry' and English dismissed him for me. They completely shot him down, and yet it was clear they all loved each other very much, even if none of them really agreed on anything.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. After a lot of trouble with the card reader, mostly due to their complete impatience and/or faulty cards, they finally paid and got out.

"Thanks for the ride," said 'Henry', and his cousins hooted something similar. 

"It was a pleasure driving you guys," I said, and added (culturally appropriative that I am): "ah-salaam aleikum". 

'Henry' and English went absolutely wild, clapping me on the shoulder and shouting: "aleikum salaam!" 

They left the cab and Brit leaned in and grinned at me.

"You know why you said that, bruv?" 

"I like to think its because I wanted to show respect to your religion and culture," said I. I was about to add 'I meant no offence, sorry' in a flurry of progressive white anxiety, when Brit shook his head and grinned.

"Its because the social democrats have brainwashed you to accept multiculturalism," he shook my hand and laughed. "Take care of yourself, and vote for SD!" 

______________________________

The Swedish general elections are coming up. I'm undecided as to which party I'm going to vote for, or why. I'll figure that out in time. After all, democracy is worthless if you don't make the effort to figure that shit out. That being said, this summer I got to see three different facets of SD supporters. Two of them confirmed certain stereotypes I have in my mind about the party. And the third one turned my perception completely upside down. 

The fact that SD exists is a tragedy. The extremists that will follow in their wake are a threat to democracy as we know it. And they are part of a wave that is sweeping accross the western world. It is absolutely horrifying. That being said, these three meetings had a weird effect on  me. They humanized the people who vote for SD and their ilk. And while each meeting left me feeling oddly positive, there's a darker side to it. The people who put dangerous political groups into power are not monsters. The scariest thing is, they could be anyone.  By either omission, ignorance, or a misguided sense of civil responsibility, these people, these fellow human beings, with all their flaws and merits, are the ones who drive this political process. It would be easy, if those who vote for SD really were monsters.  We could simply get our torches and pitchforks and drive them into the sea.  But they're not. They are single droplets, who together become a dangerous wave of hatred with the capability to destroy the country.

Let me leave you with this:

Democracy is fragile. So when you go out to vote, make sure you know what you're doing. Understand why you believe what you believe, and understand why your opponents do not share your beliefs. Understand that they have their reasons. Understand that they are as terrified and small as you are. Understand all of that, before you attempt to change someone's mind. People are complicated and messy. Understand that whatever happens, a democracy always gets the government it deserves.

This time, the system works.

"You're a working man and I respect that. We all gotta do what we have to to get along. You drive a cab, and I steal shit."
" Whatever works, huh?"

Longish intro. Story below

I'm a believer in the social contract. My view is that it is in the careful balancing act between individual freedom and social obligations that society can be founded, maintained, and flourish. Thus I don't (with one notable exception ) do fares off the meter. Its not just about staying out of trouble, it is about adding ingredients to the great pie of society, so that I may have a slice whenever I need it.

So let's talk about a group of people who've been popping up a lot lately. I'm talking about the criminal element. The thugs, the scumbags, the crooks and the low-down dirty bastards. The victims, the hungry, the desperate.

Artist's impression.

Because more often than not, most people who want to pay me off the meter are people who, for whatever reason, feel that society has given them nothing and thus are in no mood to give anything to society. The people who say; why the fuck should I slave away like an asshole for one measly slice?  You might remember I've touched on this before.

Every once in a while, I drive honest-to-god outlaws. Sometimes because they need to go somewhere, like anyone. At other times because they're off to do some dirty deed or other. And at times it is because they need someone to pick them up after they've served time in prison. Provided we can establish a rapport, I usually find them fairly sympathetic. and they usually sympathise with me. As in the above quote, most of them get the struggle of low-income work. Some of them think I'm an idiot for paying into a system that, to their mind, doesn't give a fuck about me. Some of them treat it as a personal choice, just as a life of crime is their personal choice. In the cab, I adopt an attitude of to-each-his-own. Outside, I'm pretty horrified.

One more thing before we get to the meat of today's entry. I know, this intro is dragging on. Bear with me.

In my travels (both in the world and on the Internet) I've come across the idea that Sweden (and Scandinavia in general) is soft on crime. After all, if you commit a crime, you damage society. So society should damage you, right? And here's Sweden with its short prison sentences, comfortable cells, and ample opportunity for going on leave - it's a goddamn miracle that we haven't degenerated into a criminal wasteland.

But here's the thing; the philosophy behind the Swedish penal system is the idea that criminals are, by and large, not evil people but people who have for whatever reason chosen to break with society. And if they chose to break with society, they must be given the choice to rejoin it. Not only the choice, but the opportunity. A reason. So there's an idea that the prison system must not only give them the choice, but also the means and motivation to create a good and productive life within the limits and laws of society. Is it perfect? Fuck no. Some people are unrepentant assholes and will abuse the shit out of this leniency. But at the same time, we have fairly low rates of recidivism, internationally speaking.

So the system works sometimes. Here's a story about that.

______________________________

Three years well spent

He wore a dirty baseball cap, hadn't shaven for days, and his skin had that weird, sallow doughiness of somebody whose lost a lot of weight in a decidedly unhealthy way. He asked me about fixing the rate and I explained to him why that wasn't an option. 

"No problem, I get sticking to the straight and narrow. Better in the end, you know. But tell me if you change your mind."

Sometimes conversations can take very sudden turns. I've had conversations that start with the weather, and end with heavy drug use. You never see those shifts in conversation coming - so here I was, chatting away on a very superficial level with this dude. His tone was curt and to the point, the kind of man that never had had much need for a large vocabulary. I got the sense that he, like many denizens of this city's underbelly, made it his business to talk about himself as little as possible. So we chatted about how hot the weather was, how annoying the massive infrastructure project was to drivers of all stripes, and shame about Sweden losing in the World cup.

I can't remember how it happened, but suddenly he told me that he had recently served three years in prison. So I put on my best 'fuck the system man'- face and listened.

"Me and a buddy ran a junkyard. On the side, we bought copper from junkies. We paid them in cash."

"I think I've run in to a couple of your clients then," I said. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, they wanted to make a deal with me so I could help them smuggle copper they'd stolen to some junkyard in Homeridge."

"Oh they got that back there? Good on you that you didn't set anything up with them. Little bastards never keep their promises. I had one guy bring me in a length of cable, from the train. The bolt cutter had melted from the electric charge. They'll steal anything."

"And you paid them."

"Sure. It was good business. But I made a mistake. See, there are ways to get around that shit. Papers you can push the right way, expenses you can write off... And my partner, he was the smart one. He got out while the going was good. He was married to a Nigerian, and he sold his share of the company for a couple of millions. He went with her to Nigeria and opened a bar. Shortly after he left, the tax-department is knocking on my door. They were going to audit me. And me, I didn't have my shit together, so they got me. Three years in prison, man. Two point nine million in fines."

"Shit," I said, quietly thinking that what goes around comes around. 

"Yeah," he said with a rueful grin. "So that was a thing."

"Still, that sounds rough. Three years of your life."

"Actually it wasn't that bad."

"Oh? Comfortable lodgings?"

"Sure, like everyone. No, it wasn't that bad. Because during that time, they got me a psychiatric evaluation. Turns out, I've got ADHD. I've always suspected that something was weird, but I never really thought about looking into it. Never really wanted it. Didn't trust the system, you know?"

"Sure."

"So I got out, and on medication. Got my shit together for real this time. They even wrote off the fines. So life is good. Besides, my partner had it worse."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he said with ghoulish amusement. "Two weeks after he opened his bar, he died in the Ebola epidemic. So he wasn't as smart as he thought he was."

He laughed, and god help me, I couldn't help but laugh with him. Because there's something wrong with me. 

"So the system works, then?"

"Not sure about that," he said. "But it worked fine for me at least."

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