The Governor Of Florida Was Mean To My Dad

I heard on the news tonight that the governor of Florida, Charlie Crist, skipped the Superbowl to survey the damage in parts of Florida that were hit by a recent tornado. I was shocked. I didn't realize that Charlie had gone that far in Florida politics. He didn't go to the Superbowl because of the tornado. He didn't go because he's gay and hates sports as much as I do. Why am I outing him? Because he screwed over my Dad. And I'm not a big fan of my Dad, now deceased. Dad was not the best or kindest father on the planet but that's another post altogether. But I am a fan of gay people and to quote my out gay friend Alan, "while Crist is less anti-gay than many, he opposes gays all day long and then wants to fuck them all night; enough of the hypocrisy." And it's not such a big secret in Florida that Charlie is gay. Except maybe to Charlie. Even Jeb and George W. know he's gay.

That is our building above. It was in the downtown part of St. Petersburg, now a haven for yuppies and according to state statistics, the place to where an ever-increasing number of Texan Richie Riches migrate. Charlie was my Dad's tenant. Dad owned two condos in that building and Charlie rented out 1409 for over ten years. Dad loved Charlie, which was discouraging since he was a Republican and Dad contributed to every campaign he ran, even though we were Democrats. After Dad died, I went through all his papers and found letters from him addressed to Charlie, giving the reasons for the hikes in rent every year. Dad was always specific in his demands, the water went up, the refrigerator needed to be replaced. Always specific.

But I also found papers from Charlie to Dad where Charlie said he couldn't afford the rent hikes. He needed to keep two residences because he was the attorney general at that time and had to have two apartments, one in the capitol where he attorney generaled and one in our building. Like that was our problem. My father acquiesced and stopped raising the rent. I begged Dad to at least raise the rent $20 a month, a nothing, a pittance, but Dad didn't, he felt sorry for Charlie because he couldn't 'afford it.' Fuck that. A rent is a rent is a rent. I didn't get to be a rich kid by ignoring that logic.

After Dad died at the age of 89 and I took over the estate, I invited Charlie over one night to discuss the matter and told him that I felt that he had used my father. I said that my Dad was old and Charlie had taken advantage of my Dad's fondness for him. He demurred and didn't offer any argument. I raised his rent. He told me he couldn't afford to pay anymore than he was paying. I evicted him. I am SO not my Dad. Buh Bye.

I sold two of my Dad's condos. The first was 1409, the one that Charlie rented. The second was the big one, the one Dad and his fourth wife lived in. During one open house for the big apartment, Charlie and his stinking filthy richer-than-we-were father came by to look at it. They didn't buy it. Soon after, Charlie's father bought him a condo on the other side of our building, with an ocean view, which cost more than ours. What is totally sick is that my Dad would be so happy that Charlie made it to the Governor's office, even though he lied to him about how much money he had.

Charlie did send lovely flowers when Dad died. Maybe from all the money he saved on rent.

End of chat.