CONVOLUTION

About the Book

Bad stuff happens. It’s all around us. Most of us don’t like bad stuff. Let’s get rid of all the bad stuff—then there will be just good stuff and we can all live happily in Utopia. Who’s going to get rid of the bad stuff? Who else? Government! Of course! Just pass laws against bad stuff and it will all go away. Right? Wrong! You know better than that! The United States presently has the greatest percentage of its population behind bars than any country in the history of the world. (Don’t take my word for it—look it up!) Those of us not behind bars should be the happiest people in the world, shouldn’t we? Unfortunately, those behind bars, all the people who put them there and keep them there and all the people who make and administer the laws to do away with bad stuff, are all consumers—their contribution to the economy negative. When we add up all the jail-birds, cops, lawyers, bureaucrats, lazy whiners and politicians, we have more people riding the wagon than pulling it. Raul Sanchez, a poor Mexican peon, was a good guy. He worked hard and, using the meager resources available to him, earned a PhD from Calpoly. Through a convoluted set of events and circumstances, tapping laws meant to delete drugs from the American scene, he sacrificed his noble ideals and used his education and creativity to acquire wealth beyond his wildest dreams. What goes up must come down. In spite of lethal force to insure the profitable status quo, someone in Washington got smart. It didn’t make all the bad stuff go away but it did mitigate it and it did relieve the economic burden of enforcement. Raul? He lost his wealth and more but gained wisdom not part of the university curriculum.

About the Author

Weber High School, Class of 1955—three distinctions describe Gary Ellis—rodeo, wrestling and writing. (Don’t look for the name Ellis in the Golden Spike yearbook—that wasn’t my name then. You figure it out!) After the bulls, broncs and graduation began a labored university curriculum in Physics. College deferment was not in Uncle Sam’s vocabulary in 1959. There were only two options—two years in the infantry or three years doing physics stuff that I’m not suppose to talk about. I can talk about some of the places I toured—usually solo and without a passport--almost every country in Europe along with Greece, Turkey, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Egypt. (Space here doesn’t permit a travel log.) This era ended, thank goodness, with an honorable discharge in 1962. I returned to Utah, where I repaired TV’s, completed a quarter at the University, remarried my ex, with the same dismal consequences, then on to Arizona, where I worked a couple years for IBM. I quit IBM and started climbing towers in 1964. I must like it; I’m still doing it. Oh, there were a few other adventures—a two-week dog sled trip with Paul Shurke, a solo winter climb to the peak of Mt. Elbert, a couple marathons (one of which earned me an impressive trophy), a couple failed businesses (a factory and cycle shop), one moderately successful contracting business (from which I retired after thirty-two years) two unsuccessful bids to our state’s legislature and the completion of two 500+ page manuscripts. (Random House and Knopf didn’t have the same high opinion of them that I did. They were probably right.) My wife, Nancy, and I presently own and operate a boarding stable. Well, here I am writing again and you, dear friend, have the first opportunity to be impressed or offended—and I don’t give a damn which, as long as you buy the book.