I blog, therefore I am {In Israel?}

Never saw much of these public servants until I returned in 2008 and drove past 420 and went up the hill. Same old Ivy League punk-drunks up in College Town. How well I remember delivering books in 1985 and asking, "Where is the [1956] triangle?" Mr. Johnson? Way too many of those!

May 24, 2015

William C. Hughes

216 Nagel Avenue

St. Louis, MO  63111

Police Department

City of Omaha

505 South 15^th Street

Omaha, NE  68102

Dear Cops:

First off, I thought you might want to know that one of the most common Microsoft “hacks” is to move text scrolled way down the page so you think, “Shit! It disappeared!” No, it didn’t.  Holy cow! What’s that at the bottom of this letter? It’s called a “screenplay.” You see, the actors do not make up lines as they go along, but if you are really famous and pissed-off at the director, you might be allowed to do that. If you hated alleged daddy Howard Hughes, Jr., you may well try to mess-up the movie. In that event, Howard might require you to do the scene over and over again, because you are both drunk and under contract. Movie deal? Book Deal? I don’t have any, and I don’t want drug deals, so I’m seeking a Canadian passport, leaving the USA, and never coming back.

Got a problem with that? I’ve got a big problem with “blazing cop guns” all over your nation. 100-plus gunshots and a judge can’t tell which cop shot the black folks? Bullshit! Where is my old business associate who donated this computer upon which I type, and after a friend’s funeral at dinner said, “Well Bill, how many people are trying to kill you today?” My reply that should have been in “The Media” 7-8 years ago? “They have to take a number and wait in line.” Cops looking to kill me? Of course, and it helps to know who they are, because that’s a crime! (Even when I’m the intended victim).

I can’t get a Canadian passport? It has nothing to do with the allegation I was born there, and much to do with having been tortured and dispossessed under Mr. Obama’s supervision. How about this fact? I cannot show you a photo of my late mother Margaret Mary. Father Charles Edward? Not one photo. A photo of myself that is not an I.D. photo? None. Not one. That’s more than a little weird. Further, as I said to a rotten Mafia spy regarding just about with DNA certainty daddy Howard, “He wasn’t nuts, just a little weird.”

With no internet, no satellite dish, no cable TV, no friends, no postal mail, and no family that gives a hoot, my news comes only from ABC and CBS radio. Remember the 1970’s? You are a young cop? There were hijackings, bombings, abductions, Brinks truck robberies, B-52’s raining down death on the Vietnamese people daily, and plenty of cops were killed. The Led Zeppelin concert was beyond my means at a pricey $7.00, $8.00 and $9.00 for the big rock show, as I recall. Long ago, we “Ho hummed” our way into the 1980’s as most assumed lifestyles shockingly like mom & dad.

More free intellectual-political material is enclosed in the form of a letter I wrote to former Governor Sarah Palin asserting it’s time to take guns away from cops first. Your dead female cop? Very much alive if anybody had ever listened to Charles Evans Hughes’ relative--me. He lost the presidency due to cheating, and when they asked him to try again, he said, “Sorry, I’m too old.” Howard Junior? “Sorry, I don’t have time.” Now? Too late for this Hughes, buddy, and did you say “telephone?” I’m sure mine will work fine in Israel.

Most sincerely,

William Hughes

    

INT. UNDERGROUND INSTALLATION - CONTINUOUS

Military and civilian personnel pull canvas covers off consoles of electronics. Margaret wanders into the scene looking bewildered. She sets down a stack of briefing books.

MARGARET

This stuff is vintage seventies and eighties. What good is it?

USAF UNIFORM
Not much--but we'll light it up.

MARGARET
What's going to work?

USAF UNIFORM
Maybe what we brought with us.
(raises his voice)

Get to the ventilation panel! Before we all suffocate, please.

MARGARET
I could get lucky and have a heart attack.

A large Status Screen lights.

CIVILIAN SPOOK
Shuttle goin' up! Big surprise!

Additional personnel start activating antiquated technology and piling-up more state of the art gear on top of any level space.

O.S. VOICE
Where's the president?

O.S. VOICE #2
Trying out the handicapped restroom.

A ripple of LAUGHTER.

SETH
I heard that!

Seth motors to the center of confusion.

On a large screen, a Space Shuttle sits. A T-minus time is displayed lower right. It reads 00:42 and decreasing.

SETH
Got audio for this?

A white shirt with sleeves rolled-up TECHIE hands him a headset.

TECHIE
Maybe.

CUT TO:

INT. KENNEDY SPACE CENTER - CONTINUOUS

STAN

Jesus Christ! I got wacky data everywhere! No Houston? No sanity. No way!

Stan confronts the MISSION CONTROLLER.

STAN

Stop this madness right now!

MISSION CONTROLLER

Thirty seconds, Stan.

STAN

You're all nuts!

CUT TO:

INT. SPACE SHUTTLE - CONTINUOUS

RIGHT SEAT ASTRONAUT looks up and around. Then down.

R.S. ASTRONAUT

Not good.

LEFT SEAT COMMANDER slaps on an inboard computer display.

L.S. ASTRONAUT

This little baby says, 'Go!' Right Kennedy?

MISSION CONTROLLER

(filtered)

Right.

CUT TO:

INT. UNDERGROUND INSTALLATION - CONTINUOUS

As the T-Minus Clock hits single digits...

SETH

What are they going to do up there?

DRAB GENERAL

Fix satellites.

O.S. VOICE

Turn up the volume!

KENNEDY SPACE CENTER VOICE

We have ignition...

A huge monitor shows vapor billowing away from the Shuttle, per usual.

KENNEDY SPACE CENTER VOICE

and...

The clouds of vapor stop abruptly.

KENNEDY SPACE CENTER VOICE

We have main engine shutdown.

Vapor clouds dissipate. The Shuttle sits.

CUT TO:

INT. KENNEDY SPACE CENTER - CONTINUOUS

STAN

I told you! I told you assholes! Get them outta there!

CUT TO:

EXT. KENNEDY SPACE CENTER - CONTINUOUS

SOUND: A series of POPS.

Puffs of smoke jet off the solid rocket boosters.

NASA VOICE

(extra dry)

Solid rocket boosters have separated. Evac Plan Alpha.

Like giant matchsticks, the Shuttle's solid rocket boosters slowly fall over on their respective sides and break into pieces.

CUT TO:

INT. UNDERGROUND INSTALLATION - CONTINUOUS

Seth looks over his shoulder at some white shirt, ties loose SPOOKS.

SETH

Wonderful. What's the crew's status?

SPOOK

Sitting on a big bomb.

SETH

Good news?

A younger BUREAUCRAT approaches, leans over, and softly speaks.

BUREAUCRAT

Soyuz ready to launch, sir.

Tack approaches.

TACK

Sir, could we have a political discussion?

SETH

Make it fast. Where's Tina?

TACK

Crying in the restroom.

SETH

That's not good.

CUT TO:

INT. SPACE SHUTTLE - CONTINUOUS

A TECHNICIAN in a fire-retardant suit blows an escape hatch.

FIRE TECH

Get the fuck outta there!

Four ASTRONAUTS rise. The Commander throws down paperwork off his lap.

COMMANDER

If you insist.

CUT TO:

INT. SOYUZ III SPACECRAFT - CONTINUOUS

Two COSMONAUTS sit with binders & manuals in their laps. A hatch stands open. A TECHNICIAN with clipboard appears.

TECHNICIAN
(in Russian)
Hurry up!

COSMONAUT
(in Russian)

You could give me internal power only and quit playing around.

The Cosmonaut angrily flips some switches.

An American ASTRONAUT crowds next to the Technician and peers in.

ASTRONAUT
How's it going?

COSMONAUT #2
Shitty.