Saturday, December 31, 2016

Melissa Maxxed-Out on KSHE? Cynthia's Got Them Out-Foxed

Happy New Year, Audrey!

07-14-2015


William C. Hughes
216 Nagel Avenue
St. Louis, MO  63111


Federal Communications Commission
445 12th Street SW
Washington, D.C.  20554


Dear Commissioners:

As I told Mr. Beck on the phone yesterday (See attached letter to Emmis Broadcasting), I heard Howard Stern as a young guy on a New York City radio station before he was “big-time” and said, “That guy is funny.” Am I showing my age? The situation at that juncture was a car radio in an out of gas Cadillac stopped in a New York borough. Back then, there was a “pay phone.” Back then, I was allowed to shout, curse, and say, “How the hell did you run out of gas in a shitty neighborhood? We are going to get mugged and killed!”

This did not occur, but I was later accused of being “paranoid” after hearing an explicit Greenwich Village death threat in some stupid hippie boutique. The tradition has continued with St. Louis black males on Metrobuses specifying the caliber of firearms they intend to use to shoot me with. As my supervisor at Cornell University said, “This is not okay,” which brings me to 105.7 in St. Louis, known locally as “The Point,” and KSHE 94.7, “The Rock of St. Louis.”

A. VIOLENT LYRICS

I did not marry Tipper Gore$, but I am allowed to object when I hear songs about a “Pocket full of shells,” and I’m afraid the recording artist played too often on KPNT is not referring to pasta. Killing – killing – killing. Why not glorify it in movies and on the radio, then wonder why the silver Mustang moron shot people in Chattanooga before I could finish this letter. You would think JOHN BECK, the manager KPNT DJ youth refer to as “The boss” would have more discretion. Playlist? The content of the songs may be legal, and we’ve covered all this previously regarding Hollywood, but that was way before the shooter can call his buddies on a pod very quickly. Get it? I’m almost sorry I do.

B. RACIST A.M. CHATTER

Race relations in St. Louis? May I have a generic Excedrin®? FCC, I am white, have worked with many “Persons of color” and speak poorly of them in the privacy of my home, not on the radio. How can these idiots on “The Rizzo Show” not be fired immediately? I almost worked in radio, like airline captain, movie director, record producer, lawyer, and…what stopped the DJ job? 1. A high voice like Howard Hughes; 2. I flubbed the news copy every time, and 3. My engineering skills were appreciated only by the Sports Department, many of whom went on to places like ESPN, not me. The real reason? My step-grandfather said this of the radio business: “That’s a nice racket.” Before that, my sound engineering mentor said, “The Mafia decides what goes in that jukebox.” I understood, and planned on a PhD in Political Science that never happened. Given I know the business, after they were terminated, one jock would say, “Dude, I’ve already got a shift in Detroit.” And the other? “Sold the house yesterday,” because they know how it works. So do I.

C. MY SEX LIFE IS ON THE RADIO

To paraphrase a shady intelligence operative, “I like sex as well as the next guy,” but if the morning show morons are putting real cheaters on the air and the wife, husband, or trisexual transgendered life partner hears it, a crime of passion is a distinct possibility, don’t you agree? This complainant has been blessed with long tours of duty in Wisconsin, New York, and California, but take it from a St. Louis person when I note generations of undercover cops in this area have sprung to action when someone in a bar says, “Could you whack my wife for a small fee?” The local paper changes only the names and dates when the guy is arrested. 

D. BROADCASTS OF REFERENCE

Here, as an experienced mental health professional, I’m inventing new terms, so bear with me. This allegation is mainly against KSHE’s LERN COLVIN and veteran who should know better, JOHN ULETT. The chatter begins as joking, but then, like a pot smoker up too late, a “message” is delivered via a song title, lyric, or my least favorite method, a number. For example, the classic song of the day on KSHE is rated by listeners using numbers, and text message sending kooks mentioned on the air have some way too interesting “handles.” For example, this simulated content could cause a mass murder-suicide. It would go like this: “Mister Machine Gun gave ‘Look that Kills’ a ten, Lern. Well John, B-52 Cowboy gave it a five.” And? Some meth freak thinks it’s a “Message from God” and heads to the police station with his illegal weaponry he’s been collecting for the end of the world, confederate uprising, or the return of Comet Kahotek. Get it? This is dangerous, Commissioners!     

D. DIRECT “SPOOKY SPEECH” TO IDIOTS WHO MIGHT HAVE GUNS
It is a fact KSHE DJ “Lern” spoke to the complainer named Hughes at length when he was standing around “Homeless” at the corner of Main & Cesar Chavez. KLOS? Their LA staffers Jordan and Sami were good A.M. company until Sami tuned surly and said, (of Lern Colvin), “Why would a DJ drive you anywhere?” Maybe because I’m the wealthiest son of a bitch on Earth, but when that is legally established, I’ll sit in an ornate EU hotel room, like Howard Hughes. All are welcome to come up the fire escape stairs and be shot by bodyguards who speak choppy English. U.S. government-sponsored torture and terror since 2002? Enough!

As for KPNT’s resident health nut “Lux,” she texted back to the complainant with remarks that both confirmed Bill Hughes’ “Howard’s a relative” allegation and implied Lern Colvin agreed. This buys lunch? No, it does not. By the way, this Samsung phone is not being stolen or examined by Gestapo-like cops. Shocking it is that Lux would announce her whereabouts on barstools for nutcases to approach. Is she a vice cop on the side? The vice cop who approached this Hughes in California was really from Italy, spoke good English, and here is how it went: Q: “What do you wear while you are working?” A: “Not much.” Need more? See me in Iowa as we all wonder who made Donald Trump’s hairpiece.

But first, here is what each of these women said to an open on-air microphone:

LUX: “It’s a trap!” [216 Nagel Avenue is renown for what?]

LERN: “I’m going to the ‘Kill Bill’ benefit.”^

For an explanation of the latter remark, I fear many lawyers will be involved.


War,


$ This is a political joke, young man. Give the first name of Tipper’s husband, and a free cruise is yours when you call 314-969-DUDE. Audit the contests, please. Is this too much to ask?
^ Beck is not required to keep digital audio of this crap? Perhaps Stalinist regulations are needed. Do I have to write them for you?  
 

The Hughes Family: Experimenting for Centuries

Shoots cannonballs three miles
Howard's "camera plane" was spying on you
An air filtration system so Nazis can't choke Howie in the New Yorker

The U.S. Army's Galaxy Rover 2.0 was cleverly disguised as a Ford Focus

Friday, December 30, 2016

China Shop



December 29, 2016


Dear Governor Holden:

There came to be a time in my life when as an adult child I said to the late Charles E. Hughes, “Dad, you ought to take a shower.” He fancied himself to be always working, and I’d like to know on what. The Local Cartage Association of Greater St. Louis ceased to be a corporation in 1970, I discovered too long ago. Nonetheless, Charles had an office on Hampton Avenue next door to the police association where I got a chilly reception during a brief 2003 lobbying visit on behalf of Chapter 632.

Dad was so unconcerned about his set of statute books, he allowed me to keep the one that covered 632. Today, I wonder if “Charlie” wrote the revised law himself. Missouri’s “modern” mental health legislation rather suspiciously passed right after my U-Haul truck went over the hill to Wisconsin. Then, thanks to two social scientists I quoted in my stolen and never published first book, homeless mentally ill people slept in my driveway as spooks just had to see what was in the Fiat 124 glovebox without taking my insurance card. This garbage, along with Carter’s Cuban “boat people” breaking down the front door is no longer puzzling.

Later in life, while steeped in great drama over our layoff during your one term in office, a state attorney by the name of Jeannie Floh Sierra came in my office, asked where I got the statute book, and she inquired about Charlie’s profession. I did not yet suspect the books were needed for a guy who attained a J.D. but did not practice law, so I simply said, “He needs them for his job.” (Whatever that really was).

Ms. Sierra then came into Dierbergs at Mackenzie point after our layoff and informed me of the DMH attorneys dislike for Dr. Rick Gowdy, who is now the #2 man at the department. Her exact quote was: “Theresa and I hate him. We’re both going to quit” and I gather they did. This is the same Dierbergs where some ass recently walked up to me and threatened to, I presume, break into my motel room and take the very last of my personal property.

Please don’t say I should have called police, because the tactics are always the same. Bang on the door and call out a name, hit Bill Hughes with a purse, knock him against the grocery store shelf, yell and insult poor Bill, make a death threat on the bus and get off at the next stop, etc. etc. etc. Now tell me I can’t run for a congressional seat and whip Clay’s black ass. He is a paralegal by training, I discovered, a mysterious real estate firm he worked for has “vanished” like my family photo albums and hard-earned degrees, plus he is overly fond of bison, in my opinion.

You see, Bill Hughes’ “delusional” camera needs to be at the St. Louis Zoo next year for an “infomercial” where the NFL Films announcer imitator asks, “Been buffaloed by Lacy Clay?” and in their own words constituents speak of the end runs and run-arounds that are so much a part of the fabric of Missouri’s totally corrupt political hierarchy. (Buffalo grazing in the background will not be harmed, PETA). I myself would like to personally operate the camera and wait for a real buffalo to snort or make whatever sound they make. Hey, this stuff costs money! If Clay spent four million, I’d better plan on at least six so he can be put out to pasture with his beloved bison.

The legislative record is poor, Rep. Clay follows the herd like a head of DNC cattle, and I am not detailing the issues his south side office does not care about (Including the rampant firing of assault rifles within the City of Saint Louis). Yes, I voted for his father more than once, and this sort of allegiance to a political party in need of serious repair has me about to sleep upon the streets in a town where some asinine law makes it a crime for “do-gooders” to hand me a tuna sandwich and/or bottle of water.

Perhaps you’d like to hear of my Don Quixote adventure in 1992 as I worked the phone to find a homeless shelter in Saint Louis County. Fact is there still isn’t such a place. Or, perhaps you’d like a walking tour near the city limits to eyeball southwest county businesses that have been shuttered for many years, tried to do the Potemkin village right thing by leaving the lights on after evacuating, or have packed it up and moved to Fenton and Jefferson County. My scorecard finds 5 businesses gone, and one new dental entrepreneur. That would be a commercial score of -4 in an area where the county council member is a union man with a high school education.

Dick Gephardt, I’ve discovered, turned on blue collar providers of his Wheaties and aided a “sellout” whereby aerospace machinists cannot strike. Labor economics fan Bill wonders, as with many things, “Is this legal?” By golly, I’d like to find Dick and ask what he was thinking. I’m not Ira Magaziner or Catherine Sibelius, but I agree with GOP ObamaCare haters that perhaps teacher Bill needs to go to the blackboard with Bernie’s socialist clowns and explain how the health care market is different than unloading cheap Korean cars on people who owe the government $250,000 on their Art History degrees. (Uncle Sam wants his money, kids!).

Did you say “policing?” This Hughes wonders why there was a look-alike Saint Louis County cop for my late dad, and perhaps someone wants to discuss why it was alleged in 2013 I had been breaking in cars to “steal car stereos.” Is this the lawman’s 1970’s joke? I don’t think it is funny at all after the torment I was subjected to in Jerry Brown’s warped paradise called California, and one of my battle cries would be about a pressing need to weed out “impaired cops,” who I would incinerate on the stump as “Cops on dope.” Sir, it is a huge problem, and you can send the latest drug screen results for the local police in an envelope that won’t arrive from a post office that needs to be abolished.

I will be leaving a voice mail at the Aboussie “chop shop,” and fully expect a reply. Circling back to the Mental Health Coordinator layoff that started my slide to briefly sleeping upon Chinatown streets in LA, it never occurred to me to focus on your office, because I incorrectly thought you can reason with Jeff City Republican legislators. Yes, I still recall the blank look on Sarah Steelman’s makeup, and I’m sure nobody has defaced the Thomas Hart Benton murals daddy lectured on extensively in 1969 after hijacking the eighth grade tour bus. The capitol marble is cracked, like Don Trump’s twisted selections for governance? I think not.

By the time dissatisfied mental health professionals got around to the governor’s office they were bluntly shown the door by Matt during his first month in office. I was busy calling Kansas City from a phone that kept cutting me off from the lobbyist that said “Keep up the pressure.” Earlier that day, I had refused to board the Disney Space Shuttle ride that later killed a man, and found my hosts post strategy session by the NASCAR ride. One of them now summarizes feminist-themed news for a New York City publication called Bustle. Why bother to call and hear, “We don’t need any new writers.” [Photo attached].

I’m always,



William Hughes, MSW


Moberly officials mostly mum on Mamtek 

After default on Mamtek bonds, Moberly City Council works to repair credit rating


Thursday, December 29, 2016

Never Tell a Lawyer Anything

The "other William" wonders if they were discussing the "other Ron"
 
12.23.2016


Dear Dawn -

I don’t care if you tell me I’m a “nut” and refuse to chat this weekend. If so, pass my e-mail along to somebody. Anybody! Yesterday, the water was cut-off at my inglorious motel, so I called the cops. (I had been intending to call them about the suspected rip-off artist who either sold me a car or owes me $2,400). The cop’s name was given as “Meyer” or God forbid “Meier.” The latter was the name of an alleged FBI guy many years ago.

Golly, the Internet worked for me to prove there was a Hughes working for every president on your money and I’ve got the photo of Howard Jr. shaking hands with FDR. I was fuzzy on Andrew Jackson until I found an old letter from Daniel Hughes at a fort in Kentucky to Jackson! As best as I can figure with his poor handwriting, in 1818 he was worried both about Cherokee Indians and whether he had screwed up ordering the “provisions.”

Yes, there were Confederate Hughes’ too, but I claim to be related to Union soldier Felix Turner Hughes, which is why a mayor where he is buried invited me to Iowa prior to Christmas, 2014 and I know what goddamn year it is. Helpless “friends,” miscellaneous scumbags, and friendly drug dealers abound. It’s like there is a Star Trek “force field” around the motel. Yet another politician’s staff has invited me to visit—twice—but flapping your arms has never gotten anyone to Philadelphia! Archaleus Hughes got there on a horse.

I do not know what to call this madness.



William Charles Hughes
(“During the Civil War, my family wore blue and gray uniforms.”)