Pekka Ruokonen: Finnish Patriot? #1 - A triptych of heroism
This alleged and unproven story is allegedly just my alleged opinion of alleged events that I allegedly have several folders to back up my alleged opinion and alleged account of what might have allegedly happened and is still, allegedly happening to me, more or less…completely if completely allegedly so. But, as it is a work of my alleged opinion, it is, a completely unproven matter of hearsay.
But…
Before we begin this story.
My issues with the fraud that Pekka Ruokonen had been, was still committing against me were ongoing at this point.The context of this this email is a broken lock and the delivery of new keys. However, Pekka Ruokonen begins this email with the line
Lakimiehet ovat roistoja
Roughly translated that meansLawyers are crooks or directly, through Google, lawyers are bad guys.Remember this, they are Pekka’s own words and they are the legend for this journey.
As my then current landlord had me unknowingly in a tax fraud-scam and when forced to give me rent receipts, told me, if asked, she’d tell the government I had never paid. She then gave me under a month to move out, at Christmas. But that is a story for another day.
The need to find a place had been urgent.
I met Pekka Ruokonen on the 23rd of December.
I think the first thing he said to me was,
“You’re Irish. I like the Irish. They drink. Whisky, I like Irish whisky…”
and something I did not quite understand about singing, dancing - and vague that might have been about the IRA but that I choose to dissonance out. Travelling and being Irish, people tend to tumble out with keywords and you just have to smile and nod, assume the bumble and bumble on.
I followed Pekka in through the side gate and into the apartment.
After many months of searching, the apartment seemed almost too good to be true.
It was, of course, too good to be true.
All lawyers are crooks, remember? The man said so himself.
I knew nothing about Pekka Ruokonen upon our first meeting. I would not discover he was an attorney of some thirty or forty years and named partner in some of Finland’s largest law firms until later.
With the veneer of a smiling older man, Pekka’s constant bursts of chuckling were off-putting but you become so desperate for a home, the inner monologue becomes “Ride it out, ride it out…”
He made it very clear he speaks little to no English. Very little.
His conversation veered into smuggling and getting Polish women to fuck you for a cup of coffee.
Inside you wince, but outside, you want a home.
The sort of toxic fragile masculinity riven with homophobia and eternal emotionless thirteen year old blank-eyed (“the devil’s eyes”) want and take societal norm that infects Ireland like a poisonous mushroom means you don’t blink. You’ve occasionally availed of it as a blanket duck and cover don’t have the energy roll through the social scene so it’s more ignorable.
In a marginal, I’m really sick of men way.
A phoned friend will come across the street after work to see if it is too good to be true.
We wait awkwardly. Pekka sets himself at an initial odd frame as he seems to slip back and forth with references to a past smuggling. It is confusing, but not intimidating.
With a quick look around, she whispers that I should take it.
Though there is the short formality of important questions.
Pekka Ruokonen was asked in Finnish and English, a number of times;
A) Is any pipe construction planned?
B) Is any construction or renovation to the building planned at all?
C) Is there any construction coming at all, anything. Shops anything.
The answer was no. Strenuously no.
Lakimiehet ovat roistoja.
The first warning signs all was not what it seemed should have been the discovery that most of the appliances were broken. Either vandalised or the product of some Evil Dead madness.
The seal for the dishwasher was expertly cut, an egg jammed into the filter. Broken safety glass, nails, buttons, sand, worryingly large clumps of hair in the washing machine and drains. Suspicious black brown stains in the freezer and below the fridge. Signs the front door had been crowbarred or forced open.
I’m told by Pekka Ruokonen that the previous tenant was mad.
That he put nails everywhere and called it art…
A short while later; a request for him to replace the broken doorbell is ignored, instead I am reluctantly hassled to take it apart with him and while doing a small repair he makes a point of showing how ringing the bell is like digitally stimulating a woman. Leering with exaggerated fingering. The repair works long enough for him to leave.
Shortly after moving in, construction begins in the basement.
They are building a flamenco dancehall.
The ventilation tower outside my window will be mechanised. This is the beginning of the torture.
All of this will later be shown to be illegal. Done without permit. And later, to the best of my knowledge, without any asbestos tests or provision for the asbestos in the walls.
Repeated complaints about the ventilation will lead to a couple of men ripping the top off again to shove blue foam inside.
As the Finnish law appears to state; ventilation units need to be X away from a dwelling and require easily accessible monitoring equipment. Finnish law, especially health and safety is at such a confusion that no one can tell me if this law is enforced or not or even if it has changed. Funnily enough, Finnish law will also state that before each renovation, a building must conduct asbestos checks.
Luckily, Helsinki Health & Safety representative, Anne Hernesmaa will be on hand to tell me that these laws apply to everywhere in Finland except inside my apartment. Like a prison in the Negative Zone.
While the ventilation is bad - the illegal flamenco school that comes makes the apartment an unimaginable hellhole.
Prolonged Low Frequency Noise and vibration exposure is strange and the effect it has with cortisol confusing. You drift in and out of it like being trapped in some sort of nightmare space where anxiety is a constant. As thoughts jelly from the stress, concrete decision making becomes difficult.
I quit and resumed and quit and resumed smoking with fervour - walking, sitting or standing outside the apartment I rented regardless of the weather until whenever the illegal Flamenco ran, and it often, ran later than it was supposed to.
At first Pekka Ruokonen played the confused old man, citing Timo Hagner as a known criminal, the board impossible to reach and nothing is his fault.
I have little response to this except to keep trying to phrase it like a particularly warped postcard from Uncle Travelling Matt.
Dear Boober,Were the strange occasional barking susurrus they stole from lo-fi recordings of rocks communicating with moose over ham radio not difficult enough to deal with. It is with some surprise that I discover the silly snow creatures use negligence as a form of acceptable excuse.Although, it appears to only apply to a certain type of the silly snow creatures.Law-yers.I think they call themselves. As I may have mentioned in my postcards, the silly creatures, not just the snow ones, are governed by invisible guidelines called La-aws.Here in Mooseville, they appear to have written the La-aws very carefully whereby silly snow creatures who are also law-yers can have other law-yers ignore when they break guidelines or La-aws.Section 8 - Right to bring charges (769/1990) (1) The public prosecutor may not bring charges for petty fraud or the misuse of a position of trust unless the injured party has reported it for the bringing of charg-es. (441/2011) (2) However, the report of the offence for the bringing of charges is not necessary for the misuse of a position of trust if a specially important public interest re-quires that charges be brought, or if the management of the affairs is based on law or the order of an authority, or if the offence was committed by an advocate or other person who is subject to public supervision in his or her functions or is in a comparable position, or if the offence is directed at a corporation, foundation or other legal person subject to public supervision in those operations which are subject to the public supervision. (317/1994)Mooseville continues to be a strange and often confusing place nephew Boober. It takes some adjustment. I think some new immi-grants must have arrived to the dwelling I live in, as the evenings are often filled with incoherent screaming.
In an interesting point of double-play, Pekka will discover this and attempt to blackmail the building via email. Threatening to report the building board unless they do something about the illegal dance school. On paper, on the surface, it is blackmail, but it is more likely theatrics for me.
Here we have Pekka threatening to report the school to the authorities for the illegal flamenco school. Pretty sure there’s something in the Bar Association about rule of law and upholding the rule of law and it had been going on a long time at this stage. But, Pekka is content to blackmail and threaten.
Here we have Pekka saying if he has to pay anything to me or anyone for the illegal flamenco school that is clearly causing a disturbance to the tenants he'll sue the building board.This sounds reasonable doesn't it? Until we get to the part where Pekka vigorously denies it is causing a disturbance and fights the matter tooth and nail, but we'll get into that later.For now in the story...Pekka Ruokonen is taking no shit about the illegal flamenco school causing disturbance to the tenants.
The definition of blackmail, for the Bar Association & other lawyers and Helsinki Poliisi likely going to be reading this;
blackmail
noun
1.
the action, treated as a criminal offence, of demanding money from someone in return for not revealing compromising information which one has about them.
We can take it that blackmail may also mean goods and or services that may or may not have a monetary value.
The building board, ever so sneaky that they are, with the, to quote Pekka Ruokonen, “shady” fellow Timo Hagner, simply lodged an improperly filled construction plan. When this was refused due to being improperly filled out, the, to quote Pekka Ruokonen, “shady” fellow Timo Hagner appears to have somehow, confirmed the go-ahead of the construction with a city construction official. There is no explanation for this. Just that the documents state something along the lines that Hagner has spoken with Petri Blahblah or Anti Soandso or whomever and they have said the building will get the construction permission once they resubmit the documentation.
This is an amazing skip about in a bureaucracy normally best typified as Terry Gilliam’s Brazil on bad methamphetamine. But, let me tell you, in Mooseville, miracles apparently do happen. I mean, I once knew this insurance broker who was able to measure things he could not see, had never seen, had no instruments to measure with and in one case did not exist.
I have often wondered what documentation they were missing from their application. Much later, when I asked about asbestos tests for the building, these appeared to have been ordered quite some time ago but were now missing and no new ones had apparently been ordered before the current construction or during the construction of the illegal flamenco school.
Which would be unfortunate for all the people of the illegal Flamenco school who did all those renovations. I cannot imagine the trouble it would cause were it to turn out they had done all those renovations and drilling and such without proper precaution against the asbestos that may or may not be in the building.
But, as Pekka Ruokonen has allegedly told me repeatedly, even though, he is bound by law to inform a tenant of changes and construction and the building board is bound by law to inform him so he can inform the-yaddayadda-Circle of Life… Because he never attends meetings or reads any post about the place, this has nothing to do with him and he’s in the clear.
So let’s just treat this as somewhat important if tangential alleged information given to offer the reader a wider scope of the alleged situation.
Armed with Pekka’s assurances, which he allegedly gave often, we went to the tenants rights people.
We were told to take a gentle conciliatory (read: grovelling-ish) response to Pekka. To request, as per Finnish Tenants Rights, the deposit returned and somewhere between 10–15% of the rent for the fraud committed, as per tenants rights.
So we wrote an email…
The response was that Pekka had spoken to the tenants rights lawyer and auxiliary judge. He returned saying she had said a lot of things we had not said, such as it not being contested and that he clearly contested it.
This was odd.
As firstly we had not said the things Pekka said the tenants rights representative said we had said.
Pekka contesting the matter, considering his vociferous public fighting the shady Timo Hagner, the building board and so on…Pekka coming out fighting about it not causing a disturbance whilst trying to say if it was and it was causing a disturbance to tenants…and… you know what? That sentence is too bullshit to even type, you get the idea…fuck it, fuck these people, it’s like droning on the most banal hateful beady-eyed moron evil…
The long and short of that is…the tenants rights person said she did not want to deal with the matter. We’d later find out she was friends with Pekka on Facebook. To the best of my knowledge, no conflict of interest was ever stated.
As I draw this segment to a close, before detailing the racist comments, the further sexualised comments, the shotgun death threats and such. I could skip over my landlord cracking jokes to strange workmen about my ptsd and come to rest on the following.
This following is a conversation Pekka was having with another lawyer. It references me. It would not be the first time or the last that Pekka would show a complete disregard for my privacy or go to bizarre lengths to show me how little he thought of me and that he seemed to want me to know he was ridiculing me elsewhere.
The joke here is that Moses comes down from the mountain to the assembled waiting men and says "I got him down to ten...the bad news is that the contract is still in it...but we can still fuck whores..."To restate, this is not a conversation with me, this is just an email conversation Pekka was having with another lawyer that he forwarded to me. But, we’ll get into that in part 2, currently,
I am reminded of a line from ‘The Mercy Seat’.
“And anyway I told the truth.”
Coming Soon
Part 2!
Still fucking whores after all these years: Pekka Ruokonen, Finnish Patriot? #2 — A triptych of heroism
Notes:
To the Poliisi inevitably reading this
Hey guys!
Hope you are well! Hope you had a great summer!
Hey, when you get a chance, can you tell me how the witchcraft investigation is going? As we clearly need to prove Mikko Koskensyrjä is not a witch before we can pursue his claims of being accused of witchcraft, that’s only logical, right?
Sorry for all the paper work, and the emails, but I am done straight out of fucks. I thought I had some spare, but that was just the plastic the previous fucks came in.
To Pekka, guess you should have killed me like you threatened when you had the chance motherfucker.
Don’t worry, there’s still time! Sure, you know where I live and, sure… didn’t the Poliisi (hey you guys!) decide the court outcome of the death threats case before investigating, so you’d likely only get a slap on the wrist for murder.
metsä vastaa niin kuin sinne huutaaA Finnish proverb, directly translated: "the forest echoes when you yell at it."or "the forest answers the way you yell at it"
Is the forest loud enough for you yet motherfucker?
Where I come from, it was oak that shouted back motherfucker.
How do you like oak fatherfucker?
Is it loud enough for you?
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You can support the struggle through this bigots fraud and death threats and the maybe asbestos poisoning and the rest, if you like, by buying Mooseville99 a ko fi or three or more ;)
Thank you for reading.
