“A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing” –
That’s a quote from some philosopher playwright dude going by the name of George Bernard Shaw. My best friend, Harry Perzigian who passed away two years ago was fond of pulling magical quotes from out of his ass echoed by historical figures. He always had books lying around his Brentwood apartment full of famous quotations and famous sayings to go along with his other books of famous classical composers, The Revolutionary War, and Frank Zappa biographies.
So why use that particular quote?
Because last year’s predecessor Harry Perzigian memorial blog, “One Mourning Later in the Extraordinary Afterlife of Harry Perzigian” absolutely hands down FAILED IN ITS’ FUCKING MISSION to ignite any cultural or internet message board awareness. Even though the blog entry is the most popular read blog on this site with a close to a thousand reads and is in the top links you see when you google Harry Perzigian, but it’s a hollow fucking victory because I think it’s the same goddamn people, perhaps mostly family who are constantly logging on just to make it look shiny and bright as wallpaper on their laptop screens.
Who the fuck wants that noise? Where are the press? Where’s the calls I got to field from the LA Times? TMZ (even though Harry’s widely publicized courtroom drama skirmishes with Carroll O’Connor was before their time), or the goddamn LA Weekly? WHY the blow off from actors such as Todd Bridges, Dean Cain, Minka Kelly, or Jeff Fahey? WHY aren’t they asking me questions about a person who caused just as much historical criminal hysteria in Hollywood in the same era as much as OJ Simpson once did?
I just don’t fucking get it.
So let’s divert my attention to his fucking fucked up family instead.
Particularly, the younger brother who others and I suspect put Harry on this downward spiral path to begin with – going back to the mid-eighties when he was introducing Harry to Las Vegas area pill peddlers.
Harry’s siblings; two sisters and one older brother have had equal successes with their lives and careers. One sister has been a hotel manager up north near the San Jose area, another sister lives here locally (within a earshot from where I work now) managing her own yoga exercise studio, and the older brother has had a very lucrative career writing sitcoms such as the Jeffersons, The Golden Girls and One Day at a Time – even moved out to Russia a few years back briefly to help develop foreign versions of these shows. Never met the guy, maybe spoken to him once or twice briefly on the phone, but Harry always spoke highly of him.
However, the younger brother sometimes crept in and out like as if a sack of shit suddenly grew legs. He was a smarmy one. He’s spent most of his life bilking people out of millions of dollars as he attained a trophy life, bought one of Debbie Reynolds’ old houses and then cuts and runs when the heat comes on. And as far as I can tell, he’s still doing the same thing as he’s been doing when Harry forced me to work for him back in the spring and early summer of ’09: opening and shutting down boiler room operations.
I had no choice but to work for the snake shortly after I moved in Harry’s Brentwood area condominium. When I moved in, getting away from the havoc wreaked in the battle between me and amateur porn actress Rikki Lixxx was priority one – because dudes from the Mexican Mafia had me marked because I ruined one of their meal tickets. I didn’t really feel the need to stick around the Van Nuys/Sherman Oaks border area of Hazeltine Hellmouth. So once, the enemy was vanquished, Harry offered me to stay as a roommate since he had kicked his longtime female companion for ten years. Seeing as how my position at Sony Pictures Television as Syndication Marketing Coordinator of such shows as Seinfeld, King of Queens, Judge David Young, and barter movie packages was housed at an office for me in the Westwood area, yeah, I took up on the offer – but no more than two weeks moving in, I got notice to pack up my office, because the studio wasn’t picking up on my contract. I originally thought, no problem, the unemployment claim I file should smooth things over, right?
Wrong. Even though I was gainfully employed by Sony for two years, it seems that when I had filed that claim, there was an old blemish on my previous filing record from a company that I shined (a two-week assignment at a Hostess food packaging outlet in Burbank, believe it or not.) on to take the Sony position without ample warning that I was going to quit. So talk about your past coming back to bite you back on the ass. What followed was a few months to reinstate myself by taking it to a hearing to plead my case (which went a little like this: ‘your honor, what would you do when you’re faced with the dilemma of two prosperous career choices? Do you take either A) filing vendor invoices for eight hours a day, pausing for an hour each other to help out a bunch of undocumented worker package fruit pies in excruciating painful looking wrappers for $11 an hour or B). Do you follow your own destiny fulfilling your lifelong dream of working in the entertainment industry reporting media news sources on how well your syndicated shows are doing in the ratings for $5.00 more dollars an hour?
Let’s see; $11 an hour looking like a schlep brown-nosing your way through boxes of Ring Dings or $16 an hour with very own penthouse office that you can sneak a call girl past and pull her panties down while banging her complete with a 24 story window panoramic view of all of West LA and Santa Monica (and if you squint real closely, you can perhaps glimpse Catalina Island) along while ravishing in a delightful career change.
Not much of a contest, right?
Towards the end of June 2009, I was awarded back my benefits plus any of the weeks I may have missed and got them back in time for the San Diego Comic Con that took place, plus I cashed in my Warner Bros 401k to put out my last ever Deposit Man comic book, Deposit Man: Playgod Act II and managed somehow to pay back Harry any rent I owed.
But getting from point A of getting laid off from my favorite ever job at Sony to getting to point B of getting to my tidy near $8,000 windfall, I had to work for his scumbag younger sibling for mere shekels at one of his boiler room plants, because every contractor I was involved, all work had dried up in fear that a black president would sink the economy, even echoing its’ unpredictable sentiments through the entertainment field. Maybe some lucky person will randomly see this blog listed during the midst of their google searches for the defunct Dunn Russell & Associates – an old loan modification film that was something aligned with a false financial institution called “Nationwide Loan Services” set up as a dummy corporation.
I heard this place got a lot of great buzz on the Better Business Bureau.
Yeah, Harry’s scumbag younger sibling was leading the charge on these funny outfits that seemed to pop up like wildfire when Freddie and Fannie Mac were giving away land lots during George W Bush’s crappy administration like as if they were a lifetime supply of Hershey’s chocolate kisses to a diabetic. The financial crisis bubble of just approving about any slop with a down payment on a fancy house was reaching its’ boiling point, and as those mortgages were skyrocketing to the rings of Uranus and Bush’s economy was exploding inward from all the money we tossed at a war with a country that we shouldn’t have been in war in the first place, these self processed idiots who had no idea of ever owning a home in the first place were a moist lube meat tenderizer up the poop chute. Foreplay became foreclosure and there I was on Team Dunn Russell being an under the table office assistant minion, wasting away my Excel spreadsheet and entertainment industry research talents photocopying and scanning people’s Social Security numbers and private information for later use in whatever other little future financial rip off brothel he got up his sleeve next time when this scam played itself out. It’s most likely somewhere in Las Vegas somewhere.
Here’s a link to explain it better than me: http://spectator.org/articles/42211/true-origins-financial-crisis
The above picture is the location where all the criminal activity took place. Harry posed as “Harry Paris” – closing these ‘deals’ for his brother. I personally didn’t make any of these calls. I only kept logs of the ‘phone appointments’ and then copied and scanned thousands upon thousand pages of documents as soon as the front door receptionist signed off on them. She was a hot sexy Mexican temptress whose name started with an X, as memory serves me.
I never imagined how far or how much length it took Harry’s scumbag younger sibling to take advantage and bilk these people out of their hard-earned cash or life savings, or give them false hope in relief of the housing crisis.
But people are gullible, especially those in the mid-west who spent most of their lives in park trailers and thought that they had hit the big time when they got a house. Harry’s Scumbag Younger Sibling saw that luring prey to a chump bucket full of small town earthworms.
Here’s a post from one such victim on after Harry’s scumbag younger sibling decided enough was enough when the Obama administration mandated these mindfuck boiler room brothels to be illegal:
Ahhhhh, Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer. Pantyhose caviar dreams and champagne kisses. Yeah, that Frank’s Restaurant and the motel behind it was where me and my San Diego area hottie hashed out our differences both horizontally and missionary after we came up for a Mike & the Mechanics concert at the Universal Amphitheater back in the spring of 1989. She wanted to go because she was a big fan of the opening act, The Escape Club. She kept dancing in the aisle to that big dancing hit, “Wild, Wild West” while hoisting her mini-skirt at me to near nylon ass clad danger levels. How could I not have her punished later at the motel room for her seductive indiscretions? And as you can see in the photo, she looked about ready to take her punishment.
The next morning, Lucille Ball had died.
That wasn’t a punchline, by the way. it’s just how I keep track of historic fact in my head.
Anyway, sorry to drift off that way. Kept that motel thing around the corner from Dunn & Russell a secret from Harry. In fact, I didn’t confine much in my sexual adventures to Harry as much Harry liked to share his. He was one of those guys who was taught that sexual conquest was as competitive as a game of squash. I’m going to hold off on those stories for next year’s tribute story…
Okay, where was I?
As I understand it this is acceptable and done by companies all the time. How does this make you feel? S****** PARZIGAIN needs to be STOPPED and punished ! I have more information if you are interested. I plan on pursuing this crook.
Business Entity Detail
Data is updated weekly and is current as of Friday, March 12, 2010. It is not a complete or certified record of the entity.
Entity Name: NATIONWIDE LOAN SERVICES, INC.
Entity Number: C3262254
Date Filed: 12/02/2009
Entity Address: 16192 COASTAL HWY
Entity City, State, Zip: LEWES DE 19958
Agent for Service of Process: SCUMBAG K PERZIGIAN
Agent Address: 211 N VICTORY BLVD
Agent City, State, Zip: BURBANK CA 91502
* Indicates the information is not contained in the California Secretary of State’s database
“Why don’t you tell everyone about how you were trying to get money out of him as he was delirious and not in his right mind? Pawn scum…”
Poster V for Vendetta is referring to this check that Harry wrote to me a week before he died
A check for me for services rendered as he called it. For his previous year’s battle with the bottle and helping him out with feeding and taking care of his bird, driving him to the doctor’s office, and staying at the house with him when his idiot then untalented uncaring roommate would always cut and run on him. I agreed that half this money would’ve gone out to Australia to Harry’s daughter and his grandchildren – IF HE WOULD DIE– but at the time when he wrote this check, I just laughed at him and flat told him ‘how the fuck are you going to die, when you’re in goddamn better shape than me?’