Homeless. Helpless. Need a disability check? Can't remember ANNE LENOX's name. Can't remember BRYAN ADAMS' name. Uh oh, can't remember Cardinal Centerfielder JIM EDMONDS' name? "It's not the government, it's not the government.?" Bullshit. Why not try to open the 1989 records administratively, given NO LAWYER WILL EVER HELP, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES (save possibly a felony committed by me, William Charles Hughes, and yes, I sure am William V, too, UK asses). What is this "California" crap? Did I not say it in West Hollywood, tooling around in the "bugged" Ford Focus? What did he say? "Howard was dealing with the same crap in the 1950's." And, may I say Richard Nixon got all of the anti-commie credit? I just did.
Left-Right, Left-Right...hut! hut! Are you people nuts? I am not, but then again, I am running for president. No, the story is not the Hollywood radicals looking at me with saucer eyes as I shook-off a big, bad, arsenic poisoning. [Grandma Navy ESP childhood hint: Arsenic and Old Lace on her B&W TV--more than once, ca nutcase] "How is he still alive?" the looks on their faces said. The joke? "That was a two-Sprite poisoning," and the .mafia boys were indeed in 7-11 buying lottery tickets, because at least they know the Hughes job well. Two shiny pennies were in the car when I took delivery of my now wrecked and who knows where it is Ford from PLAZA FORD in beautiful Maplewood, Missouri, a community where the whole police force comes out when state bureaucrat Hughes calls them. I got a layoff notice? Aw, crap. I'll have to conquer California and prevent them from getting the Rams back.
What happened to NH license plate "LILBRAT"? Does anyone care? Best computer hacker I've ever encountered, and Hughes has been hacked a few thousand times, so look for me to give those kooks at Microsoft & Apple a "bit" of competition (when I get time, and mafia(s), money is not an issue, now is it? KY jelly for your missile going up there butt? Better get some, because I will say the command .illuminati impostor Secret Service don't like). Elected? May I sound "cocksure?" Get me out of 1000 Oaks--I win. Oh no? Dig this, from all places, the Methodist house organ, Sojourners:
"In a time of grave economic crisis and massive government action, the traditional right-wing alarm about 'statism' has gotten out front of the 'traditional values' agenda that would use the power of the state to enforce a code of personal behavior."
Not on my watch, buddy.
and...
"The American Right has always carried this internal contradiction. It's a twin to the American Left's contradiction between libertarian personal ethics and communitarian political economy. But the Right has really risen when it has had a figurehead leader who can turn the contradiction into a unifying paradox."
Congrats, Mr. Collum, as I could not have said that better if the california Cuckoo-Birds got me a suite at the Hilton. That person to which he referred is Gov. Palin? "Hughes Road Kill," she'd be. Can the President of the United States say that? In a word, "No." USPS mail to Gay Head, MA? Stop him! Stop him! (Like a Bond movie, I'm ashamed to say). I had "the moment" last March on a park bench formerly occupied by "Special Forces Mike." It goes like this, nutcases. "Oh shit! What if they really stick me in there?"
You sit.
You look up at the stars.
You see wars & shit.
Did I start them?
Did a "they" start them?
Do "we" win them?
What if "we" don't? Yuk. Not me. Oh, not me.
zzzzzap
Nah, it's all parades and clowning around.
Peace & prosperity.
Chickens in pot.
People at work.
They all have to come to me.
I don't fly.
LAZIEST PRESIDENT EVER!
Too complicated, drug-dealing dropout? Spies? You're not going there, because you are a f$cking idiot!!!
And now, the story.
Poor homeless Mr. Hughes/William V was sitting in CARL'S JR. (HARDEE'S where I come from), and saw a woman "signing" (begging for money) on "Jeff's Corner." Fully aware of how territorial the ca homeless can be, Hughes thought, "That girl could get in trouble if drunk, girlfriend-beating Jeff sees her." Then, what did I spy? A too clean-cut accomplice in a car. Out loud, because I talk to myself, I said, "Oh Jesus, the Secret Service wants to know who's giving those bums money." I resumed musing. "She's pretty hot. Why don't you come in here, honey?" Lo & behold, the door swung open shortly after my editorial was magically heard, and in strutted SS girlfriend. "Gotta have an opener, like Howard," I thought. I think I said, "Signing? Doesn't Thousand Oaks suck?" and she said, "Hold on, I'll be right back." Into the rest room she went, for either cocaine lines, what I call "Communication with Zoltar," or possibly both--I would not know how your tax dollars are spent--not yet.
Plop. A real woman. A porn star? New headlamps? California gentlemen do not ask what they cost, but they looked, uh, good. Aw, don't you know the SS Ponytail Division had to send a guy to our table to spoil my dreams of a hotel room and Howard-like activities. A friend of who? "Bobby, The Legendary Bobby?" Now I am suspicious, sir. Oh well, good convo is good convo. Long interaction, and I liked the tarted-up limo photos. How "paranoid" am I? For many months, I bragged that my most normal conversation in three years of California homeless was with a porn star. No, it's never them, is it? How long ago was it? Her male buddy got his hair buzzed off, and was staring into the Mafia Billiard Room, as many do. Shit! It was them! Again! Who cares, as I kinda knew it already. As for my one night Carl's coffee agent, she looks nothing like who she said she was, pictured at the top of this blog piece, but I would have.....
Never mind.
when is that NH filing period?
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