Why not?

"What is he talking about?"
"I'm calling the cops!"
"Nah, let's go into Starbucks and start a fight."

As we said in our St. Louis neighborhood, "You do that."

Like campfires of old, the Hollywood screenwriter is a storyteller, as with female LA NaziCops who will see video of the black dude beat senseless by a stupid Chevron minimum wage, drug-dealing, arrogant, slimy, Hispanic clerk motherfucker who ought to be on the wrong end of a big handgun since they will do nothing about his assault, first degree. Hey, it's Friday! Grandma and the South Side St.L fried cod? Not tonight, girls. Hey, let's call the cops on psychotic security guards on bikes. Make up stories and call 911--California's favorite number. The deputy dawgs know my "Shots fired" standard. Sure they do, and that's why the city sewer guys were making loud POPS yesterday. This goes back to popped paper bags in grade school, December, 1963. I am not the only one who knows this, son. Boston, MA is far away, and don't steal her extension # again, please.

Getting lots of federal funds? I'm not getting any sex, kinky or otherwise, so maybe I'll drop a bag of shit on the Chevron lot from the Dodger game biplane. Why did the guy get "arrested." He gave Hughes a piece of paper. GARCETTI, BETTER GET YOUR ASS TO STARBUCKS BEFORE SOMEBODY GETS KILLED--NOT ME. BUNCH OF SHIT! MOBSTERS! BIG MAFIA! DOPE HOUNDS! CRAZED CHRISTIANS! UFO NUTCASES!  That was not a Dodger ballplayer who said, "Screw 'em" early one morning? I know what I'm seeing, 1120/550/790/94.7.

My 1000 Oaks assessment? "Somebody unplugged you in 1991." [Think H.W.]
Los Angeles racketeers? "Somebody unplugged you in 2006." [Think W.]

BJCBH Point #6 (The rest is personal)
6. It's not the same people I met in the Dome Building with Secret Service Agent R.M.? His business card was bragged about and displayed by me on Ward H/SLPRC 2006-2007. One story only! Last night, I came into the Union Station Starbucks, and when you are Hughes, "they" stand in your way. I said, "I did not bump you intentionally." My gal was at the door looking at ceiling tile, as they tend to do. She was on me immediately. I said, "Where have you been?" The reply? "I was in jail." After an explanation of that adventure, she said, "You should knock them over," and a bag was left with my dinner in it. I cannot disclose the contents, due to what I derisively term "Food Code." I'm so "paranoid," I ate it last night, with no ill effects yet. The inside joke here? She gives the same fake name as a screenplay character of mine who would utter the same lines to SETH, my fictional president. This scares me, but only a little. >>END OF STORY<<

Copying any public documents out there, Koval? Fighting my every keystroke, are we? I'll be "stuck" in Starbucks/Union Station until 10. That's why one of the SS males gave me some MONEY. Pay phone ripped off the pole yet? Not yet? This legal, E. Holder? Who are these mongrels? Could y'all ship some frozen White Castle burgers? Maybe not, as there are no public restrooms in California.