I beg your pardon!

“Your writing makes no sense.” – A. Koval

As a Labor Day tribute to the people in Southern California who are filthy rich but occupy a job we all could do better, here are passages from the pre-composed e-mail I’ve written lately. Don’t try to guess who the mail is to, because with the nga.mil BrainJack™ technology at max power just in time for “Binary Choice 2016,” most likely no one is going to care what I wrote.

One of the e-mail passages is indeed to Clinton’s staff in my Red State, but they will never allow a Hughes anywhere near her brain trust that needs to endorse a scrapping of ObamaCare, a shitcanning of the Second Amendment, a Guaranteed Annual Income like Dick Nixon was talked out of providing, and my new idea is “means-tested hiring,” meaning if daddy or mommy’s trust fund is boring, you cannot be the manager at Jo Anne Fabrics or Dollar Tree to grab Latino ass and/or tell mildly psychotic white women who live chaste and alone they are doing everything wrong. Sorry, average Americans need a job; your lazy undercover master race Illuminati butt does not.

Did I mention an ass whippin’ for Putin and his IT boys? Maybe they will answer the phone down there at her HQ.

FROM THE E-MAIL BAG:

#1 “What I was recently told by a JEN HAASIS was essentially that I should call BHR and become one of their clients at BARNES JEWISH BEHAVIORAL HEALTH SERVICES. This was after I had given her a “thumbnail” of my entire career, which included serving as the “Gold Standard” for community support work, recoiling from a superior with the same name as the Saint Louis County prosecuting attorney, finding myself turned down for a well-deserved supervisor job, and then more or less propping up an incompetent team leader at 1430 Olive. (She was clueless, by her own admission).”

#2 “My insight provokes strange sights & sounds, like the CHP command SUV driver barking like a dog. I still do not know or care what that means. I am not a dog. I am not a pack animal, but I resemble one after I shop at stores middle-class “Bill the Bureaucrat” passed by in favor of buying deodorant and toothpaste at Dierbergs. My elitist genes said, ‘Those dollar stores are for the clients’.”

#3 “Sir, when a Hughes with ten screenplays starts outlining a Western and ‘Baseball movie,’ he just might be related to Howard Sr. and Rupert Hughes. What does this have to do with your library? I recently e-mailed an anti-nuclear activist regarding declassified information about the Glomar Explorer, a Central Intelligence Agency project my 5th grade nun told us all about, along with how to kill someone quickly with a sharp pencil.”

#4 “I am seeking any information you may be able to disclose on my college advisor and Communications Arts professor Bob White. He was at your university long ago, and also had radio shows in Canton, Ohio. (I am guessing WINW or WHBC). Bob was later at Lindenwood College in St. Charles, Missouri, where I received a B.S. in Political Science (1977).”

#5 “I think someone needs to read my second book manuscript besides my SLU Care doctor, a lawyer in Silver Springs, Maryland and a lawyer in San Diego. Only this man could ‘catch’ the attorneys impersonating literary agencies to receive a copy. Many who knew me at Lindenwood would say, “What took you so long?” This was also a legendary caught spy’s remark to the FBI back when they cared about such matters.”

#6 “Meanwhile, a lawyer who handled my complex civil suit stemming from my work as a state bureaucrat has continued to search for a brave attorney to: 1). Seek justice regarding the crooks who stole my intellectual property; 2). Protect the new creative work; 3). Secure that big movie deal which I honestly think ought to be about Margaret and Charles Hughes, my parents of record. They met at the Federal Records Center. Margaret waved the Mormon .45 at Charlie. The German Lugar in their dresser drawer did not shoot. The cops provided a car battery for my model rocket launches. Gray creepy old men commented on my 40 ft. radio tower. Charles disposed of his leased black Lincoln with this line: ‘I didn’t like it,’ and the gold Impala appeared as a result of this decision.”

Has Your Plane Crashed Yet?

A "psychotic rant" for my neo-Nazi Hungarian diplomats

11.   September 1968

Cap   d’Antibes, France

244

Caravelle   III

Air   France

F-BOHB

6/6 + 90/90

F-BOHB c/n 244 made its first flight on April 10   1968 and was delivered to Air France 9 days later. The plane was named   “Bearn” and crashed just 5 months later.

Let’s see…I could call the Brits and complain. Or, how about a strangely sympathetic Republican Senator? Or, I could beg for money on the web. Bob’s right down the block, and he’s got an old car that might pass inspection. Then, who’s driving to stand in line for the tax waiver. Hmm. Why didn’t you ask Lohan for a damn phone number? It as a set-up to call the cops, wasn’t it? Amy has got to get the screenplay. How? When? You did the right thing. Later, the cops said it was okay, but not. If it were not for Jeff and Dino you’d be dead. Why did the Jeff Bridges Starbucks extent their hours. Go see Steve Hilton and yell. Aw, that won’t work, but he is nearby. How could a Ho Jo cook show up there all of those years later? He was very into cleaning the galley, and when in Westlake he locked the doors to piss off poor Hughes. Was that girl who ran by a robot or some government agent who spends too much time in a health club? There are no cyborgs, but that is the name of a restaurant where Charlie would lunch with old bats who don’t talk too much. Hmmm. How about that gal who wants to stream video and talk it over? If I had read every damn audio magazine that had piled-up I still would not know how. Just make a damn porno flick. That’s what they want, then…I wonder if the FEC file database will work if I override Wilbur’s virus catching program? Nah, then the computer will crash and you’ll have to pay $80 an hour for Hugh to fix it, or you could UPS it to Roger. Hmm, it works and does not crash, you could close the PAC. Who put a virus in a federal download? Maybe they don’t want you to close the PAC at the SS. Why not a new one? What if the cops don’t know about some of this Hughes Aircraft crap? I thought it was like Dick Tracy where they’ve got that stuff already. Can’t call and ask, The fbi cares about sex trafficking? Yeah, it’s a great way to pick up underage girls. At least someone agreed to bring some damn cigs. Hillary and Bernie are running together, I’d bet. Certain defeat because of neocon disgust with ObamaCare and Iraq shit. Maybe I can go to an urgent care place and exaggerate. Barnes? No way. Maybe the imdb 14 day trial will find an agent or producer’s correct address with 10 G of bandwidth on the android thingy. Maybe a VC kook would come here and park an expensive car in front of the house. Aw shit, then I’m a drug dealer for sure, and they’d have weed, which is not quite legal here yet, and then, here come the cops. But, if she left the keys or clicker thing, while she’s in jail, you could ride around like a big-shot in a big Lexus SUV or Mercedes, and…who could lend me a car to get a Driver’s License?

An FBI spokeswoman declined to comment. 

It's Bad

It was the first air-conditioned mall in the USA.
We did not even lock our bikes, dude.

How Bad is It? 03/02/18  Written 3:46 p.m.

It’s so bad, Trump’s spouse is dressing like a widow. It’s so bad, I have not much to say, even if you do want to HELP. g-mail used for the important mail, and outrage over pot story got a “Passport please” e-mail to McCaskill. We can skip the legal action for now.

Twitter is a mess. A****y’s wife is screening all mail, and does not know me from Adam. So what? T&&&& died? No, he is there 2 days a week. May I leave STL? May I leave USA? Getting back on aol to send mail. Carr can’t be serious, and even if he was…Greitens is in “trouble” now. Trump? Worst case; it’s like JFK all over again. Sexual stuff, inner-ring “mafia,” Russians on their ass, both right & left pissed, but economy supposedly good. It’s the same “stew” that got USSS & Mafia to take Jack’s head off.

Where is BOB BUSTER? He retired. Given many NutCases think I have a say on such crap, go e-mail P$$ R$$$$ and crack wise, because I won’t. Passport, please.

DRIVER-LAWYER

LAWYER-DRIVER

The library walked right into the presentation request, and all of HARA-Fullerton is too old—except L^^^^. L^^^^ want to attend, and get me out of here? That’s up to L^^^^. I’m due at Family Dollar to not get killed. N0 speech in #2 except “Call it out” because critter knows anyway. How did that get going? Y##### may care, might not, as that account precedes any more writing about CVS. Governor? Trump?

What’s up?

Uh Oh, Spaghetti O's

Trouble with the MO Lutheran spynod? Me too!

My late dad Charles had the same problem with near misses on parking lots. When several motorists tried to hit him on a Schnucks lot in Afton, he asked me to go to the store for him. I did not understand this in 1998. Now I do, because without question Charles was Howard Hughes’ son, and many people knew this. I was still a skeptic when I would finish my day of community social work by writing a few reports in a Saint Louis Bread Company store near St. Anthony’s Hospital, and then I went to Schnucks.

When I arrived at his Heritage Estates apartment, I asked for no reimbursement. We would sit and talk until late on Friday evenings, and he spun story after story I listened to with interest, when alleged relatives hated the man. Why? Many times the conversation continued until my later vandalized, wrecked, and still missing Nissan 240SX backed up with Charles in the headlights. He’d wave, I’d leave, and I never revisited the “Howard stuff” until 2004.

My photo of his “totaled” Nissan in front of that apartment? I’d sure like to have many arrested and it returned to me soon. This ongoing delay defies all logic and reason. You are welcome to see an e-mail exchange with an ancestry researcher in her 80’s who said, “You are a royal but not related to the oil money.” Royal? Is this why Prince William and Catherine drove by? I said, “I don’t want to see them. Have they not heard of a helicopter? I thought he flies one.” This sort of commentary is spread around when you are “stuck” outside of Los Angeles. Another quote? “I just saw George Kennedy. I thought he was dead.” (He was in a movie called Airport).

 

Dear Al

J. Law? No comment on Streep.

03.04.2018

Mr. Pacino:

Thanks for replying. I saw my dreadfully jammed with junk mail Inbox I had been remiss with checking and then looked at what I’d written to you. There always seems to be a more pressing issue—like my toilet at the Wayside Motel does not flush, or a big thug is stalking me off the bus. Where did my cars go? I’m apparently not allowed to have property in  the USA, despite what the Fifth Amendment may say.

This gave me an idea before writing to a Houston police lieutenant who thanks me for my little updates. Maybe she can help swing the gates of Glenwood Cemetery open and finally prove who I am, instead of enduring another round of talking to aerospace engineers in California public parks. Too much like a “spy movie” for my taste.

How about I do a biblical length deposition with an actual lawyer? Attached you will find my strongest, most impolite appeal for legal assistance. I am a regular reader of Georgetown’s National Security Archive, and have declared myself to be smarter than National Security Agency imminent retiree Admiral Mike Rodgers.

I got my answer on who was in my late dad’s 1966 vacation boat. Not a Secret Service guy; it was, per Christopher Banks at the LBJ Presidential Library, Jack Valenti. (The inventor of movie ratings). No wonder I got into an R-rated movie as a kid every time!

RKO?

Howard Hughes?

I will now talk to the motel wall, instead of watch Mafia sell-out jerks receive Oscars. 

See why they love me in LA?

Good day,

William Hughes

Jews for Jesus

I hope we can start a discussion about how all religious faiths seem perfectly willing to spit upon the panhandler, close the homeless shelter, and force the Medicaid recipient work from his wheelchair. To me, the boxcars full of gypsies headed to detention camps cannot be but a spoiled rotten generation away. Or, maybe I am just an old cynical pensioner named Hughes.  

Good day,

William C. Hughes

And the ATL problem is:

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