You need some help.
TO: Academics, Advocates, & Progressives
FROM: William C. Hughes
DATE: 07/23/2018
RE: Fascism and Don Trump
My advice, if you read this, is to get off what I
call Satan’s Internet and talk to some very conservative people. They like
stuff like auto racing, professional wrestling, gambling, betting on NFL
football, and they seem to like guns a lot. Many of them do not use any drugs
except caffeine in their coffee never purchased at Starbucks, and the nicotine
might come from icky chewing tobacco or snuff. This is because they are often
engaged in an activity called “working.” This is sometimes done in places where
you have to use your hands for things like baling hay and feeding livestock.
Or, perhaps they work at a drab factory with an old picnic bench out back to
smoke a cigarette outside.
You see, Donald J. Trump promised them better jobs,
lower taxes, and that America would be “Great again.” To some extent, the
president is delivering on his promises, despite what a circus the White House
has become. Unless you want a very conservative Supreme Court, a U.S. Senate
short on Democrats, and a perpetually “Red” House of Representatives, you’d
better go talk to some of those people who think you are lazy socialist hippies
and drug addicts who inherited lots of money and started some irrelevant
website while on a left-wing mission of some kind. My prediction? Trump wins
handily in 2020, because you don’t have, as a Palm Beach Democrat said, “A
younger version of Bernie,” nor do you have another Bill Clinton, who won in
1992 because of Ross Perot. Clinton stayed v. Bob Dole because he balanced the
budget and decreased the national debt. Additionally, Bob is too blunt, like
me, and one of my favorite American politicians. For me, Dole is right up there
with Eugene Debs, a socialist who boasted about it and might have won the
presidency, if not for the spies, intrusive cops, well paid thugs, and dirty
soldiers your government has among you.
True Stories From Bill’s Life
2007-2013
Drug Dealers Down the Block: My full report on
this will surely be ignored by Prosecuting Attorney Bob McCulloch. As for
Secret Service man Bob McCullough, at least his name meets the approval of Bill
Gates’ spell-checker, as does Hughes, Humphrey, Kennedy, and Johnson; mere
“friends of the family” back when Spencer Tracy’s coat was heavier than me as I
toted it up granny’s steps. Show me Hepburn and I’d “Get it.” When is it time
to get out of your near a state of technologic anarchy police state? Beats me.
As I joke too often, “Better call China.”
The JAG House: It is not often I plan to sign a
lease, but the landlord has been called to legal duty in Afghanistan during a
war. That was a first, for sure. I called his wife, who hedged about what hubby
was doing over there, and when I might sign a lease. Impatient with rent I
perceived as too high, I inquired of the landlord next door, who as with Mr.
Rayman, had his “For Rent” sign knocked down often. It would be years before
I’d discern this is brainless “Zombie Code” for, “We’d like to knock you down.”
Exactly $1010.00 later, my “stuff’ came up the other back steps. As for the
maneuvers of female military spies over there, I later came up with the terms.
A “pda” was already imparted to me as a “Public Display of Affection,” by my
Kelly Girl, and this was Iowa Girl’s deal out front on St. Rita Avenue. My
neighbor Andrea too. Many times, as boyfriend went to work at Washington
University to be arrested much later, I’d say, “Come back up to your apartment
and get it on!” (Sex on the sidewalk? We prudes don’t want to see it). All of
these antics went unnoticed, but the meter maid was on time to ticket the
Hughes chariot every time. “California Girl” had the show stopper clothes and
the walk that almost got a “Hey baby!” even out of Mr. Celibate, but she
was…too short. It pains me to this day, because I too am a sucker for the short
skirt and cowboy boots. Every day, there she was for a maneuver later labeled a
“Pop Out.” How did she know when notoriously tardy Hughes was departing?
Military “secret?” Not any more, spies.
As for Mr. JAG’s role at the notorious prison with
the dogs and pyramids of naked prisoners, if his extramarital girlfriend was
incorrectly fingered as Filipino, and is instead from…Thailand? Well, Bill
Hughes awaits the War Crimes trials in that plastic box at The Hague. Some of my best “friends” were on black site
prison duty, and more of the greedy torture Queens were placed at the “Global
Center,” I’ve surmised. I may wonder for longer if it’s 30 years, life, or the
painless needle for you pieces of shit. Is this Central Intelligence Agency
murder racket both here and overseas why the U.S. never declares war? Too many
lawyers, too many killers on the payroll, folks. Get it? Next time Uncle Sam is
pissed at an attack upon the “Homeland,” I recommend a full Congress vote on
the response. In that event, your murder becomes a “casualty,” Pammy.
Vandals & Cops: This is my fault? Every time I
locked my cars, someone went in them. Every time I left my apartment, someone
went in it. This is no “free country.” This is fascism, pure and simple, and
unless you can buy some security or buy the fallacy of “privacy,” anyone
with sufficient technological skill can find out anything about you. The cops
don’t know where the suspect went? Impossible, and a big lie. The sooner you
admit Big Brother arrived on his 1984 schedule, the better. You won’t admit it?
Maybe I’m a Shiite in England with a girlfriend from Tehran, if Drug Thugs want to behave like that. USA is
the world’s policeman? No, Uncle Sam is a drug dealer to this planet. Name the
nation that consumes more illicit drugs. The French smoke like chimneys and
live longer, so why not ban smoking cigarettes in your own house? Meanwhile, gun
manufacturers and their customers have nothing to fear from a toothless FBI and
USDOJ. Want a list of Homeland Terror acts? Here they are:
>My new Ford Focus had three punctured and
flattened tires.
>Two Focus radio antennas were stolen.
>A Ford hubcap was stolen.
>The car door was scratched—“Not too bad” according
to a female NaziCop.
>The CD player was repeatedly attacked to skip.
>The radio/CD player was repeatedly turned off
remotely
>The ABS brakes were turned off remotely
repeatedly. Long skids, no impact many times. You just don’t drive as well as
Hughes, soldier. The Pentagon has been studying the jacking up of onboard car
computers long enough. It’s way past time to levitate the Pentagon, or cut off
their money.
>The Nissan fuel line was loosened in an attempt
to burn up the car. Failure, soldier.
>A spark plug was hammered down into the engine
block. Fuel injector I was told by FRANKLIN SPECIALISTS. Even a chat with
Charlie Hughes can’t fix that nuttiness. I’m a “dirty fan?” You are a Nazi
cunt, okay?
>The car was later, I believe, restored and given
away. Is it time for the Sony Records civil war yet? I can shoot as well as the
next Sunni guy.
>My expensive CD player worked, the Sony
products, both audio and DVD skipped.
>Play the same album on the Comet turntable?
Some bug-thug clipped off the stylus (A “needle” to old Negroes with James
Brown albums).
>The snipping of the stylus solidified my relocation
plans, only to be tortured further at TONY ARMANO’s “30 Center” in Concord. Bill
Gardner arrested yet? Not yet? I’m just not a very good Democrat, am I?
>Penske? You mean that Pennsylvania target out
the window of my Gripen? Aw, shucks, that carries the wrong kind of missile.
Saab knows this, but do you?
The way I see it, liberals, the rest of the world
is fixin’ to fight a two-front war against the USA, Russia, and their white
male autocratic leadership. China Girl #1 chews gum with the best of them, and
you did not “stare down” her soldier-hubby, did you? This got Hughes slammed
against a wall by big China Girl #2. So hot! But with two over six foot tall
African-American bodyguards , I could not go to where I just about saw as we
chatted on the floor. “Tina” and I talked it over several times on that floor
too, and if she’s with the Secret Service “Deletion Team,” what’s the worry? I
have none, how about you? When you run with those people, don’t ever ask where her
boyfriend went. The Los Angeles River is not much, but eaten by rats is a
byproduct of the same event as with becoming dinner for Ventura coyotes, I must
conclude. No human skulls to be found by the mayor’s beautification workers? All
EPA staff should know the River Des Peres used to smell like shit, and I know because
that was the olfactory sign for a sleepy Bill as a kid that we were almost home
from the Missouri state capital. Momma Margaret said, “Charlie, they really
ought to do something about that,” and MSD* did. Today, it just looks, but does
not smell like what my baseball coach called a “sewer crik.” Margaret Mary was
nuts? No, she was the pants in our family until being tortured by Russians, and
later murdered, like the rest of my family. I’d say your nation needs a little tweaking
on covert killing, or you can dispute all of the facts I’d have assembled by now if not held prisoner by wealthy left
wing kooks for two years. Waiting for a redistributive revolution? Not gonna
happen, kids. (They sure don’t look like what they are, Vern).
The Schoolyard Cop Stop: Early in my
California dreaming, I stopped to rest near an Elks Club, and I’d swear I saw a
newly unemployed Vice President drive by in a Buick Century. Farther up on the
left, I pondered what the rent might be. To the right, there was a grade
school. Mind readers, it went like this. “Oh
Jesus, two cop cars. They can’t possibly be here because of…me?” Oh yes they were going to hassle
me, Arnold. I hasten to add it got much worse under that bald-headed tidy
Democrat thug Jerry Brown. In the “Master Planned Community,” they see you,
they call 911. Not too “liberal” to this lifetime liberal. Was there an offense? A violation of the
fucked up beyond human comprehension “California Code?” No, it’s just blatant
harassment. Mr. E. Coke Dealer, who lives up in the hills receives no such
attention. These crack heads with badges and guns looked at the valid Missouri
I.D. and again I said, “The number is my Social (Security Number); what more do
you want?” Oh, he wanted my birthday—AGAIN. Once more, what I call “The Cop
Computer in the Sky” reported via a female voice that Hughes is a lawful man.
Why not fuck with him and try to make it otherwise? At the conclusion of this
one, I told them where I was headed, if this could be allowed, supposedly in
the USA. “We don’t care where you go or what you do” was the verbatim
totalitarian statement that day. Has anyone heard of “doublespeak?” I guess
Camilla Harris does not know her cops talk it.
If I had some money, I’d start a recall drive on that bitch. Sounding
like a Democrat? Yes, if you’d ever clean up your act. Is that Eugene McCarthy
or Hubert Humphrey I hear thrashing about in their grave? Bobby Kennedy rests
in peace, thanks to LA mafia.
The Dobermans Again Cop Stop: The Doberman dog
became a theme for me as they were thrice released to bark, growl, and then
scratch me in Clayton, Missouri. A family renting an apartment across an athletic
field from mine had label tape on the mailbox that said “BLUM.” Has Richard
divorced Diane Feinstein yet, or will it be vice versa? One time with the Blum
girl, we saw a Doberman on his hind legs that I’d swear in any court was taller
than me. I said, “Nice doggie” and then bought this lass a drink. I was told I
was an ineffectual wimp, not a “real man” at all. Then the guards from Russia
were told I could stay two weeks. I was compared to Harvey Pekar, which is not
a bad thing, if you saw him in one of those “stare downs” with Dave Letterman.
My CA “sin” this time was to threaten to kick one of two snarling Dobermans in
the chops. Apparently the Blum-Chump had forgotten his leashes that day. I
believe I also yelled, “Get your fucking dogs off me!” with a witness named
MIKE LEIGHT. Later, about six cops searched my bags and suggested I get out of
town with expired credit cards that were later stolen. Has the Axel Rose “civil
war” started yet? When it does, be sure to bring me a crate of assault rifles and
a big seller in Syria white Toyota pickup truck. This was, liberals, the second
complete search of my property with no weapon and no skill to use one. I did,
however say, “Ben I need a new way to kill a guy quick.” After another martial
arts demonstration he said, “He’ll bleed out internally and go down quick.” I
said, “Thanks, Ben.”
The Starved but Still Alive Cop Stop: As I
accurately recall, my California Food Stamp (Advantage) card had over $700 on
it because someone had hit me in the head and I could not travel to a grocery
store. If not for a woman who passed on marrying an Iranian man, I would have
starved. The first trip to Vons, I got out to Janss Road, did a little victory
dance in the street, returned to the sidewalk, and noticed something very odd.
A few dozen cars exited a parking lot where there was absolutely nothing going
on. No “paranoid process” here as they all jerked their heads to look at me.
About 75 yards west from that spot, here came two police sedans and an SUV. I
was questions by several deputies, including one who in my professional opinion
was on cocaine. Why did I think that? He was talking too fast, and kind of
effusive if not downright euphoric as he explained a 911 call on me for walking
along a public street thusly: “They just like to call us!” Do you ever explain
to a pack of cops you are going to the grocery store? I told them I was down to
my last fruit pie and they may have thought the food item was “secret code”
they are so nuts. And, the county gives them guns that can kill you! Nothing
was mentioned about the little jig in the street that lasted no more than 15
seconds, but it seems someone is always watching
you in Thousand Oaks if you are on foot.
Dancing Deputies Cop Stop #1: Do we all know who
Mark Levin is on “The Left?” I enjoyed Mark’s show and know Rush would never
put me on-air, but another neocon in Texas did. Out in front of the Dollar Tree,
my VC famous only Mark Levin impression was in progress with not a soul nearby
when…here comes three cop cars. These public servants stated no reason to be
there, did not look at an I.D., and started dancing.
I really am from Saint Louis, so after a few minutes of this, I just walked
away. Later, in “Kurt’s McDonald’s,” I was told, “You could get arrested for that.”
(Meaning terminating the “cop stop” without permission). Feeling “free,”
liberals? I was not. As I dined on the Value Menu and got more creamers for
kicked out of the Navy Darrel, he uttered a choice line as cop “cherries” lit
nearby. Munching on a Fillet o Fish, he said, “We’re hassling the cops, not the
other way around.” I’m here to tell all stringently liberal and politically
correct webmasters in Boston that is a raggedy but powerful “we” out there.
Again, the stolen quote? “They tilted the U.S. to the left, and all the nuts
rolled out to California.” Who wants to govern that? We shall see in
November.
Dancing Deputies Cop Stop #2: Truthful always this
Hughes, so it must be noted this one was actually about computer genius and
hopeless drunk Frank D. Frank had finally been kicked from jail after a six
month stay for a bushel of DUI’s and a whole week or so of sobriety was
witnessed by many. As a big supporter of my old PAC, it was okay for Frank to
sleep on the sidewalk by “Greg’s Homeless Camp” and my coffee drinking post,
but this raises the odds of that busybody 911 call. Sure enough, the two black
& white cars showed, and it was me as “Judd for the Defense” as I noted
Frank causes no problems, except with his liver. Of course the last thing this
male and female deputy combo wanted was Frank back in jail, so after a few
questions, they began to…dance. The
first one for me solo had been like an Irish jig, but the performance with
Frank present were positively ballet. I wondered about the old, fat, sweaty
cops I’ve known, thanked these two dancers with Tasers, and assured them Frank
would do something productive, which I could not say for myself.
In Ventura County, you know you have friends if a
cop won’t issue a fifth DUI when driving nude, and I myself said, “Did you
check the windshield washer fluid reservoir?” as concerned bums tried to find
where the booze was hidden in Frank’s white Ford Explorer I allege was leased for
him by some ass looking for a “revolution” who attended Southern Illinois University.
Why did I think that? I saw the prick drop off Frank’s vehicle, and recognized
him. Edwardsville, IL nuked yet? One of my Political Science professors alleged
space aliens had the architecture contract over there. If he is correct…don’t
worry, it was an airplane in 1987. As for a teenager jumping 12 feet in the
air, we’ll get to that in court. Is Tom Lawless still alive? [That’s a St.
Louis joke, son]. Another? Did my “junk pitches” have some help from Howard?
Another lost career, and you wonder why U.K landscape is the horizon? The few
times anyone got four bases, all pitchers know the pose. You stand there, hands
on hips, looking at where the ball landed. It is a very private moment. Then
they hand you a new ball. I know I’m right about that, and leaving the United
States for my and your own good. Your violent brand of sickness I cannot
cure.
The Stinky Starbucks Cop Stop & Ejection: I am often a Muscovite “schizophrenic” for connecting the dots correctly
and discerning cause/effect—still the hallmark of Nazis and their whiz-bang bag
of expensive toys from Pasadena. You can’t top two Ruskie females in front of a
just closed Westlake Starbucks, can you? One was newly arrived and said to
speak little English. The one with thin cigarettes became “The Russian Cop” her
accent was so thick. I gladly answered all of her cop-like questions, and when
two deputies parked the black & white in what we Midwesterners call a “Fire
Lane” to go in a nearby CVS, as she glanced over her shoulder, the not a movie
line out of me was, “They’re harmless.” I dreamt of sex with the new one and
more questions in a home like they borrow for awful porno videos, but…deputy arrived
the very next day to tell me I can no longer pay Starbucks good money I somehow
had with no “panhandling.” Strangely, I was still allowed in the other stores,
so one bottle of orange juice later, the Blue Bus did indeed stop, unlike the
St. Louis bus driver on crank who passed up three potential passengers while
speeding last night. [#21 eastbound that was to arrive at the Shrewsbury
station at 8:48 p.m.]. Not related to Howie, liberals? On the next attempt, it
was just me and a cop SUV. Good God, they just don’t get it here, do they?
Regarding that Shrewsbury terminus of the Metrolink train, Charlie Hughes had
the same explanation for that as I-170 at I-64. “They couldn’t get the real
estate,” he said with a Benson & Hedges 100 perpetually lit.
Murders in Brittany’s Neighborhood: Part of the
reason I drifted to the Westlake area was stories like this, then I accumulated
more like the one below by lurking on the LA-Ventura county line. Hughes got
“A’s” in geography and worked at AAA as a “Travel Counselor,” so I know where I
am without a TripTik, thank you. Have you ever turned a corner and –BLINK--found
yourself a half-mile away? It’s technology, not Martians, my liberal friends. This
is why a Hughes Aircraft retiree shouted, “Don’t do it!” from his wheelchair
when I threatened to restart the company in Ojai, CA. As often happened, I was
approached in the night with a “tip,” in this case from a white male in his
early 20’s and his girlfriend, both of whom claimed to have grown up in
Thousand Oaks. We were discussing a nutty equestrian park when the young man
gestured toward a nearby neighborhood and claimed there had been many
unreported murders there. I glanced at the woman who was looking in the same
direction with an expression I cannot describe. Forget the number of
“deletions” not recorded by the county, what I know is that a man I trusted
gave me a pickup truck ride through this neighborhood, and pop star Brittany
Spears later bought a home there. I know she did, because I saw her turn into
this neighborhood. Driving alone and making a right in a big SUV she was for
Spears Sighting #2 with your correspondent on the corner, and for this reason,
as with many others you’d recognize I appreciated the absence of bald security
goons with little headphone wires.
The LA Co. Deputy on Meth Cop Stop & Ejection: Nothing like being stranded at LA’s Union Station to discuss disc v.
drum braking and whether there is still asbestos in the pads. No sooner had
this friendly African-American male conversationalist walked away, I found
myself being screamed at by an LA County deputy. Eyes bulging, throat
constricted, face flushed pink, and as loud as he could scream it was: “What
are you doing here?” No chance for any rational dialog as his two cop pals with
tin stars looked embarrassed. “Get out of here!” he screamed. Lucky for me it
was only about 30 yards to a very public park bench on Cesar Chavez. Was Mr.
Chavez treated like that? Did you say CalExit? My view is that they need to
hurry it up and take the “suicide state” of Oregon with them. Just this morning
on the news, it seems that suicide hotline calls have doubled very quickly. Internet
exposure? No, it’s exposure to everything from microwave energy to particle
beam garbage and whatever field a nasty entrepreneur wants to aim at your skin
or skull. Believe it when I report my skin has been cut many times with no
exposure to a “sharp.” What your dollar hogging military is apparently after is
an armless soldier shot from a satellite, and then he can’t shoot anyone with his
old AK-47. As I said too often, “Does that thing have a higher setting?” Who
makes the gold device that looks like a cell phone and set my t-shirt on fire
from 20 yards away? Gosh, I would not know.
_WCH
*MSD stands for “Metropolitan Sewer District,” and
if one of their employees was deleted, I’ve got all his info right here for
Scotland Yard, not Chief Belmar’s drug dealers in orange & white cop cars.
My also missing Arnold, MO female Sonya ex-cop already knows about it? I sure do
overuse the expression, “That figures.”
###
Dear KFF:
Below you will find my appeal to the local weekly newspaper
in Ithaca that does not know cow dung from a Medicaid regulation, but who they
assign to write is their business. I have detected “resistance” there and among
the Beechtree patient advocates, but oddly not at the corporation that owns 15
nursing facilities. My actor-helper in Los Angeles once said, “I don’t have
time to defecate.” [I cleaned-up that quote, as I could clean-up Mr. Koenig’s
problems if Mr. Steif decided to HIRE me and PAY me].
My problem is, thanks to hijacker bad guys and
confidentiality laws, I doubt my MSW, clinical licenses, or state employment
could be easily verified by faxing releases back & forth. I do have a
tattered Social Security card to wash dishes at the State Diner while named
Hughes and absolutely related to Howard. Seems to me there was a bus stop down
the street from a Kaiser office in Thousand Oaks, CA. Did you enjoy my
documentary about the growing mob of homeless Cali rabble? It never got made! My
script the producer never had a chance to buy? My book about national security?
The one about your corrupt Secret Service? The one about aviation disasters?
The one about long term care and granny soon living on the streets with her
feeding tube clogged thanks to a GOP that swallows Trump’s semen?
I’m not very nice.
Why?
I tell the truth—a rare commodity in the United
States today.
Why not pound on your tablet device all day?
I hear my old state department still boots-up the
computer in a cubicle once daily and checks e-mail only in the office. This
would be a rule if I were ever governor anywhere. Charles E. Hughes was not
governor of New York? [Not my late dad, the other one!]
_Hughes
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