Yo From MO

Teacher’s Here

Air Canada, we really need to talk. Meanwhile, as we in the USA wait for the next AR-15 to ring out, let’s work some Missourah “number code” that apparently endorses acts of terror. While I’d really like to be in Wales instead, maybe the .gov types will give me a medal later. Not in the most corrupt state in the Union since the first Civil War. (I’m not enjoying the 2.0 one in progress today). Here’s what “The Media” said:

“Saipov was driving a big rig in Platte County, Missouri in the northwest part of the state when he was ticketed by troopers for failing to maintain the brake system on the tractor trailer. He failed to show up in court for that ticket in April of last year, that`s when the arrest warrant was issued.

After he was taken into custody, his bond was set at $200 dollars which he posted. A new court date was set for November of last year.

Saipov again failed to appear in court and on November 29 of last year, a guilty plea was entered. Saipov was ordered to pay $129.50 for the bad brakes ticket and $70.50 for court costs. He lost all of his bond money.”

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To some Homeland Terrorist types, the number or money amount $200 means, “We like you.” The one to nine ($129) message has me again wondering how Missouri’s Smokey Bear could be in on “Revolution #9,” but it seems he is. “50 Cent” is a rap performer I’ve never heard, and I’ve concluded that was not Nelly at a bus stop after all in 2014. I guess I need some medication.

The court costs from Judge Wampum to me say, “Get back on I-70 and go do something worse in New York, then help the (50) cops.” Amazed I was this man stayed alive. As with every terror act I ask, “Did they kill him?” or take him into custody to have intriguing discussions about why Home Depot and not my beloved Alamo – National.

Yes, I lived on Alamo Avenue and rented from Alamo. It did not mean a damn thing except the rate was lower. I was seen driving kids around in that car, and it was white like daddy’s Impala. As for Charlie Hughes’ 1962 Bel Air, which was also white, there was an explosive in the tire, and I would know because I was sitting over it. We were on the way to see Jack, and don’t dare ask, “Jack who?” His opponent Dick was back to be kicked around some more in 1968, but that still does not explain my handprint on his vehicle. You’d think they would hire me for yelling “Get back!" with such composure.