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Todd Blodgett Opinion: Art, Crack Cocaine & Influence-Peddling

Todd Blodgett of Clear Lake Iowa is an accomplished writer and political strategist. He has been the most-popular writer in the history of the Globe Gazette, (which recently closed its headquarters), been published in numerous news publications, and has written a book, “Republican Crackhead.”

New York City art dealer Georges Berges, retained by Hunter Biden to sell his paintings, has signed a shady deal that’s justifiably raising suspicions. Under the terms of the sordid arrangement, Hunter and President Biden and White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki claim that Berges is trustworthy to keep secret the names of individuals who pay up to $500,000 for Biden’s paintings. However, Congressional Republicans who want to see the so-called ethics rules facilitated between the White House and Berges are being stonewalled. Psaki said, “We won’t know who they are, so there’s no scenario where they could provide influence.” Seriously? U.S. Rep. James Comer, the top Republican on the House Oversight Committee, told Berges that, “In other words, you’ll be the only person responsible for rooting out potential sophisticated, foreign disruptive agents’ access to the White House. That’s unacceptable.”

During my seven years as a drug addict in our nation’s capital city, I occasionally encountered cocaine pushers who, despite assuring junkies that their stuff was good, ripped us off. When challenged by cheated addicts who demanded refunds, such dubious dealers became profane and often threatened violence; some would skip the threats and promptly administer the beatdowns. Basically, oversight was nonexistent, with victims rarely getting justice. Circa 2003, in a crack house in S.E. Washington, D.C., a gargantuan drug pusher lied while trying to sell me $1,500 of rock – crack coke. “How do I know,” I asked, “that these five 8-balls are of equal quality to the sample I just smoked?” He replied, “Y’all axin’ a good question, my man. See, if I’se done sells ya some dukey” – ghetto jargon for fake drugs – “I’d hafta quit comin’ round ‘dis here hood. I’d be outta bidness, dude, and ‘dat be fo’ real.” His assurances came to mind recently, when Ms. Psaki promised skeptical journalists that Hunter’s arrangement is legitimate. But, “they’ve outsourced government ethics to an art dealer,” complained Walter Schaub, who, during the Obama-Biden administration, headed the US Office of Government Ethics. Mr. Schaub is correct.

When, following that 2003 drug transaction, it became apparent that the pusher had cheated me, I demanded he return my fifteen C-Notes. He cursed me with a word that rhymes with luck and yelled, “Y’all ain’t gettin’ S**T.” He then pulled a switchblade, flicked it open, and demanded, “Gimme ‘yo cell phone, sucka – right NOW!” As I reached into my pocket, he smiled, confidently, at his girlfriend. But once my loaded, .380 Ruger pocket pistol was aimed their way, his attitude instantly changed. “Toss the knife to the floor – slowly, to your left,” I ordered the thug, “and place your hands on top of your head.” Nodding to the stunned chick, I said, “That goes for you, too, sweetie.” There they stood, with their mouths agape, motionless, like some clueless ‘Jeopardy’ contestants stumped by the Daily Double.

They immediately complied when I warned, “Hands on your head, if you wanna keep ‘em; I don’t miss much at this range.” While another junkie removed the cretin’s wallet and counted out my Benjamins, I said, “you’re quitting your gig, you stupid thief. And if I see you around here again, you’ll be out of business – for real.” For the remaining two years of my addiction, he never reappeared. Rumor had it that he and his baby mama and their child moved to Cleveland, Ohio – where they gave up drug-dealing, became Christians, and started a legitimate hair-weave salon and sold fried chicken via street carts.

Admittedly, my method of meting out justice was as legal as the transaction which impelled the pusher to refund my dough. But it worked, which is what matters. After all, in the absence of any controlling authority, people – even taxpayers – can get ripped off. But what will work with Hunter, and his Pop?

Todd Blodgett is a renowned political writer who is also the author of ‘REPUBLICAN CRACKHEAD’. Mr. Blodgett served on President Reagan’s White House staff from 1985-87, and also worked for the first President Bush. He later worked for the Republican National Committee, and for the FBI. Blodgett lives in Tyler, Texas and Clear Lake, Iowa.

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