This is my 1977 Mercury Marquis. This picture was taken in 1994, and the body has sustained some wear and tear that hasn't been repaired: the bottoms of the doors are rusting, and there are bondo patches and brown primer spots all over it now.

This vehicle has over 280,000 miles on it, with the original engine. The secret? For one, its a Ford, and for another, the oil gets changed twice as often as its supposed to be changed.  The entire front steering and suspension has been replaced, and the car is more solid and drives better than most new cars.

I also have a 1983 Ford LTD (Country Squire) station wagon, brown with fake wood trim, with a replaced tailgate, same color scheme, but from a Mercury Grand Marquis, and a small flatbed tilted trailer it tows.

I don't have many pictures of me, certainly no recent ones. I lost a lot of them when the spiritual servitude owing parasite landlord in Minnesota pulled his crap. Hopefully I'll get a newer version to post here soon, but if not then this will have to suffice.

This one was taken in 1994. I'm in the background. I chose this picture because it was the only one I could find that shows the heart tattoo clearly. My hair is short now. That's my younger brother Ray Nelson in the foreground: Don't mind him. He's here, he's there, he's everywhere. He always has to be hogging the spotlight. In this picture I'm sneaking up behind him to put the choke hold on him. He was in the Marines, so don't give me any crap, or I'll either send him or Don Rickles over to your house, depending on what mood I'm in at the time. He's still up in the Twin Cities somewhere. Don't go and bother him, or he will most likely punk you out.

Athena's mother Mariel.

One of Mariel and myself, also from 1994. The details of what Minnesota did, given elsewhere  in the letter to Burlington Northern, are only a part of the story. I and my family have a long and distinguished history of being screwed by the State of Minnesota that goes way back to 1974, when I was 14. If it weren't for criminal malfeasance on Minnesota's part, I would never have met Mariel, and there would be no Athena. As it turned out, I could have been happy spending my days with Mariel and Athena, but further criminal action on a Minnesota government agency's part screwed that up, too.

There were four other separate occasions where I and my family have suffered at the hands of Minnesota government agencies. Click here for a short history.  Every time (of the 100 or so times) I ever tried, although more than one lawyer said I had an open and shut case, not one lawyer was ever interested in seeing justice served.

This is my daughter, Athena Marie Gatzke, in 1994 at age 18.

Where I should have had enough financial resources to be able to send her to a private school, instead, she got to grow up in a housing project. She went through all manner of irritation and suffering she shouldn't have had to.

An offense as bad as this can only be resolved spiritually, by reincarnating the Russian and other toads who were responsible, and making them relive all the suffering that has ever been endured by man, at least once.