"He's just like the other Bill"

Bill Veeck

03.27.2017

Ms. Blum –

You dare to ask “What’s up?” in a text while I was in a grocery store I shunned as a state employee? My late mother, who I believe was tortured, driven “crazy,” and then murdered would say this: “Chicken’s butt; ten cents a slice.”

After paying for a money order going to a motel I do not want to stay at, I met a young man sitting outside. I talked to him briefly because he had that newly popular look thanks to Obama’s voodoo economics. (Meaning he looked in “millennial transition” a.k.a. HOMELESS).

He had a story, as all drifting from job to job, out of focus youth do. Apparently he knows a rich guy in California who will allow him to stay in his Huntington Beach house. I said, “Okay, I’ve got a movie producer who would offer a deal if I ever get there.”

He gave me a twitter address that turned out to be real. He’s from St. Louis, and he looked far better in the twitter photo. Perhaps a bad complexion does mean “Too much meth.” In California, I thought not. One thing is for sure. If he calls from anywhere but the state where I am on a lifelong mission to put Jerry Brown in the slammer, he cannot stay in this motel room.

Wayward females cannot enter the room. The housekeepers may enter the room with the greatest of trepidation. You once wrote me an e-mail in your clipped manner that said. “Cool! Radio show!”

That was WGN, and it is now a kooky Christian station. Liz Brown is where? Oh, she moved to Chicago. Chuck Norman, the owner, died. Charlie Hughes died. Many are dying in California who knew “William.” Here, I am known as “Bill.” And, in keeping with one of few FCC Third Class licenses on the KCLC bulletin board, I pitched another radio show to some ABC guys who are likely more worried about some meaningless crap trending on the Yahoo page.

Back when I believe the Culver Hughes guys shot a LASER at a Pentagon satellite from mine, it was Paul Grundhauser having a shit fit over how to turn the radio station back on. Finally I said, “Paul, I’m going back to the dorm.” In my hand was a piece of teletype paper that said:

THIS IS NOT A TEST

All hail North Korea!

May the fearless sort of communist leader vanquish money-grubbing shits with a lucky shot!

Hail, hail, North Korea!

(The Berkeley leftist hates everything, so why not put her out of her misery)

Go, go North Korea!

(The rich studio Jew cares for no one but himself. Take him to hell)

Money-grubbing motherfuckers still panning for gold with an I-pod, eh?

Pray for our North Korean heroes and their brave rocket scientists!

3,2,1,…Let’s have a “blast,” right Pam?

(The Boeing missile shield does not work, dear. Sad it is I know what does). 

_Bill