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Deep Pipes

Appropriate for Easter, too!

 

Lindenwood College, BA, St Charles, MO, 1979

Theatre Major & Literature Minor

Dear Mr. Pipes –

See the attached e-mail to Ms. Claudia Stedelin, as I continue to battle local critters I call “DrugThugs” …excuse me, I’m trying to erase any trace of Ms. Lord’s e-mail to nihilist, elitist, Hollywood scum-buckets in need of drug rehab.

The Ayatollah Hughes will now climb the Easter prayer tower and call “The Church of the Mushroom Cloud” to solemn meditation and self-flagellation. Our spiritual leader, much like the Mormons, has found a golden flash drive in the desert containing indecipherable symbols. She will speak to these prophesies for all lapsed Catholics and guilty as hell Jews who wish to worship in peace. Pay no attention to our former Islamic State converts who patrol the neighborhood.  

We shall be operating tax-free like the Church of Scientology every Saturday morning at 10 a.m.

Praise Abraham!

A.W.C. Hughes

Nihilist Nations

What's the point? You don't have one, Emmis lunkheads.

04-17-2017

Mr. Curran –

After what took place the evening of April 15, the topic is your transit system, and I’d better have an uninterrupted hour to present to the County Executive, John Nations, and a “token” African American. I’m stating fact right now. The black against white racism on your system could, as they say when threatening gun violence, “Knock a guy down.”

Let’s cover the Black Dodge Charger full of Black Guys quickly.

I was returning from getting another check for my Indian extortionists at the Wayside when intuition said, “Get off at Rothman” (Westbound #21). The next thought was “I don’t want to walk up the hill.” Last time I overrode intuition, the “Smoking Stalker” was at the stop, I called the Shrewsbury cops, and was treated rudely. Selling dope, officer?

Pauline Saputo reported she tells her Meramec Community College stalkers to “Get back in the car.” Like the cop I’m not, I mutter “Get out of the car.” (And show me your hands). No gun violence in this town? What planet are you on? At the Sunset Lanes stop, I saw a woman in front of the door holding a phone. A husky white male was striding purposefully toward me. When he paused to stare at my five Shop n Save bags, I said, “Get in the car.” I took several steps backward as he gawked.

I then heard a car, looked over my shoulder, and there could have been the drive-by shooting, and Howard Hughes’ son is dead, as my corrupt, sickening family would like. Instead, the four black gentlemen pulled in the bowling alley, backed into a parking spot and sat there. My husky while male got in a late model car and departed. Only then did I cross the street and get behind a Budget rental truck like the Saint Louis County cops taught me in about 1995. Speaking of those lazy lawmen, a cop drove west as the Charger sat there, lights on with nobody exiting the car. I’m “paranoid?”

Let’s go back to Tony Mafia’s house on Michigan Avenue where I was struck and knocked to the concrete by an irate black man holding five Schnucks bags as four African-American males drove by in a black Yukon. No gunshots, just a bruised butt. I asked the guy why he hit me and I believe it was to pawn a scooter and buy drugs. Interestingly, he would not come in, or even go near Tony’s house as I retrieved the scooter which was found abandoned in an alley.

Yes, your community, both city and county, is becoming a hellhole of drugs and crime. Argue with me and I will ask when the last time you fellows have been on a bus at 10 p.m. and I am not talking about a sporting event or holiday celebration. By the way, the Clayton cops need to come clean on the vandals who systematically damaged my cars, both of which are no longer my property. Bullcrap! Do not run to statue books to justify the crimes or I’ll join the “White House Fence Hopper” crew. My rational communication to Trump and McCain is not to be ignored. As a New York City cop said to me, “We’ll deal with that when you get here.” With no vehicle and no driver’s license, that could take up more of my precious time.

Outside Los Angeles, a man named Willis said, “William, lay down the law” and his first name was not Bruce. Time to hand Nations a homeless brown bag lunch and suggest he resign. When is the meeting, because after this garbage, if you ring my phone, you will be counseled by the police to refrain from unwanted “outreach.” The Hollywood cliché is “Don’t call us, we’ll call you” and KMOX is getting the movie producer’s address. If they say, “Try Craig’s List” I’ll spend the rest of my life in federal court right here. Enemies cannot win a single case. So, let’s meet, because I will walk to Wal Mart rather than ride on your “crazy bus” one more time. A final story finds me in the Clayton Straubs during 2015. One butcher said to the other “What is he still doing here?” The second butcher replied, “It’s some sort of political problem.” Indeed, and it will be resolved—soon.

William Charles Hughes

FRED

>>Photo stolen by Russian firewall rodents<< 

April 14, 2017

Dear Rep. Wessels –

I think you need a law passed on a phenomenon I observed repeatedly in California. The idiot buys a vehicle that looks like a cop car and installs:

ü  A searchlight.

ü  Several antennas

ü  “Moon” style hubcaps.

ü  A “vehicle pusher” on the front of a Crown Victoria.

ü  A computer in the same place as the police.

Why not add a shotgun, which is also legal, however you are just a creepy stalker or drug dealer, not the police. In California, I actually walked up to a guy engaged in what I call “Lot Sitting” in such a vehicle and asked, “Are you a police officer?” He said, “No” and continued his spying.

Like a psychiatrist’s manual called the DSM, I could write the law myself where if you select 3 of the 5 to “add-on” to your car, you get a ticket and a lecture from the “real” cops. Another great Socratic exchange on the Left Coast was:

“Where did you get the cop car?”

“At an auction.”

The guy was 18 years-old and high as a kite. Maybe he thought he was a cop he was so stoned on legal marijuana. Good thing I’m not at Trump’s desk or he would have a draft card by now.

Have a nice day,

William C. Hughes, MSW

Former DMH Central Office MHC I

LSS~LCCC Mandy

Mr. Gallear "lost control" and killed his wife Mandy.
I merely ducked when objects were thrown at me.

Got intrusive "Dirty Little Creatures" in your vicinity?
Make them happy with a portion of your e-mail!

 

While there, it might also be wise to file a Will with documents now on-hand that prove my alleged daddy, Howard Hughes, and Marilyn Monroe were in the same place at the same time. You would think a Hollywood weasel would want to guess along with me about what was going on with that!

Meanwhile, I don’t expect any lawyers to help with a lawsuit against some movie types who think bad video with no plot, guns blazing, and big boobs on display are okay. I’d like to make them illegal, and then we can listen to the ACLU cry out about the right to shoot actors up with absolutely no redeeming social or artistic value to the DVD a 12 year-old will watch to get “self-radicalized” at 18 when he or she can buy a goddamn automatic weapon.

This is bad, not good,

William

 

Jon ~ Janis ~ Jan ~ Jackass

How about a reservation at the Forestry Dept. Homeless Shelter? So mafia!

04-11-2017

Mr. Curry Favor –

How many true stories do I have to relate before someone allows me to speak at a public or closed meeting regarding the troubled Metrolink system? When I heard Charlie Brennan’s interview with John Nations on KMOX yesterday, I called the radio station and was given his producer’s name. I also called “Dolly” at the County Executive’s office and was given your name.

Today, I spoke with Sarah about what Mr. Brennan had said, According to Charlie; the County Executive has called a meeting about the transit system and not invited Mr. Nations. In my vast bureaucratic experience this could lead to Mr. Nations being fired and he sounded audibly nervous about the troubles.

I wondered aloud to Sarah about whether Mr. Brennan wasn’t just “running his mouth,” because I am indeed a native of this community and it was a neighborhood expression to say, “We’re having a meeting, and you are not invited.” Charlie boasted of beating a traffic ticket in Moline Acres, whereas I used one of their real early 1970’s cops to create a 2002 screenplay character. When I returned from showing the script to a person formerly in the movie business, I was issued a ticket by one of your female police officers who did not see the alleged infraction. That went to a traffic law clinic, because you are not raising my insurance rates with that garbage.

Exasperated about years of mystery regarding where my motor vehicles landed—not on the backside of Mars—I told Sarah the following:

1.    I was on a bus when the driver fell asleep and nearly had a head-on collision with a dump truck. After “nodding off,” he yanked our bus to the right and the near miss could have been measured in inches. What would have happened to me in the front of the bus? I’d be dead. (And, there were additional reportable incidents on the same crazed #40 route ride).

2.    I boarded a #73 bus and smelled a very strong scent of marijuana on an African-American bus driver.

3.    Recently, I had the misfortune of seeing this same driver piloting the #21 bus without the “reefer stench,” and he was rude to me. We can speculate in a private meeting about why his attitude is in need of an adjustment. Do you people run drug screens on these drivers? I’d like some answers, please. Mr. Nations has not been fired? He ought to be.

4.    This item will not be ignored or I will ask a cop to handcuff me to Sam Dotson’s office door until something is done about rampant drug trafficking in this town. In case you do not know, as I told Sarah, illegal drugs are openly offered at your transit centers. While I jokingly call 14^th & Spruce “The Kit Bond Train Station,” this is not funny. After being offered drugs many times in slang I don’t understand and directing marijuana smokers to nearby stores with rolling papers, a young man clarified matters by asking “Do you want any cocaine?” within earshot of a transit guard.

5.    I further mentioned to Sarah I have dozens of additional accurate reports that Civic Pride and MAC members don’t want to hear. You’d better listen to me, because I spent a career assessing dangerousness for mental health agencies. Therefore, you might want to discuss your hotheaded bus drivers who boast of their guns on the job. Take it from a firearm hater; if you have a mass shooting, it’s going to be the driver, not a bum on the bus. We need to talk—soon.

Guess what? I might need something in return, like a stipend, a paycheck, a per diem, or a lift to a movie producer’s office in LA who has been waiting three years. Please don’t join the ranks of young neo-fascists who would jog under my window and ask, “Got any money?” I may well ask you “Got a printer?” because I am not paying one penny to reproduce my two letters sent to Bi State which received absolutely no response, and those were serious allegations. Could we add somebody shooting an AR-15 at my #8 bus stop? Didn’t I mention we need to talk?

Thanks,

William C. Hughes   

 

The King is Not Coming

Bad movies & butt-ugly politics.

As the late Bobby said, "Welcome to California."

 

04/08/2017

 

 

Mr. King –

 

You people have writers that create films I call “Mafia garbage,” so you should know it is frustrating to mutter this often: “I did not write four books and ten screenplays to sit on hard drives.” From a publisher backing out of a book contract in that banner year of 2001 to the Sheriff of Ventura County California stealing my screenplay in 2012, as the Grateful Dead sang, “What a long strange trip it has been.”

 

The latest literary rock I am throwing in the pond to see if it makes any waves is about people you should know of, like Bill Veeck, Eddie Gaedel, William Wrigley, etc. In my own home town I am told ridiculous things by university archivists like my late dad was on the Board of Alderman. No, but apparently he has a U.S. Navy and a U.S. Army file I can only see with some political muscle that is conspicuously absent. I know both stories, but as with my DNA, it’s all about the documentation.

 

For example, where is the photo of 12 year-old Catholic Youth League hurler Bill Hughes? My catcher was the starting pitcher in high school after they asked me a half-dozen times to try out for the team. Why would that be, WGA West writers? After a “big kid” had swung and missed one of my “junk pitches” by a lot, Pat Hogan came out to the mound and said:

 

“Don’t throw that pitch again.”

 

I said, “Why not?”

 

He said, “I can’t catch it.”

 

And I said, “But he missed it.”

 

There was another strikeout for big Bill Hughes who should have made a good living as a long relief pitcher in MLB. Need I mention I chatted with the Commissioner of Baseball briefly, and you can all start guessing which one. Here’s the pitch!

 

My late dad was in the stands for Eddie’s famous walk. This was confirmed by a friend of his who is likely deceased by now this is all taking so long.

 

Later, he was the Third Base Coach for another of Veeck’s promotions. I heard the whole story from dad’s mouth, and I am sure it was all true. Where are the yellowed newspaper clippings and trophy? Seized by evil relatives.

 

And, if you think anyone at the Post-Dispatch is going to help, call my pal Bill McClellan at (314) 340-8143. Bill’s idea of encouragement was to say, “Just keep doing what you’re doing” in 2014 and not write a column when I’d been a background source for two of them. How can two local radio stations talk cheap talk, when some leftist Hollywood Jew would make a deal, yet nobody will drive me one mile in their car or a rental car when I have the means to pay?

 

This “delusional” movie per my “friends” could potentially involve a few million for a replica of Sportsman’s Park that is later donated to a youth group. I think this happens in Cuba or Guatemala because I am sick of being tortured and tormented over my last name. Don’t you know that Scandinavian tourists are riding around Cuba right now in a rented car when I cannot get out of this motel room no matter who I contact?

 

My idea of a joke—and this is no longer humorous—in California was to say this to a female I trusted:

 

“Where ‘ya from?”

“Cuba.”

The town in Missouri?”

“No, the island.”

 

I WANT OUT OF THE USA. Maybe a movie deal would help. Although, if you put a few zeroes after my bank account balance tomorrow, this does not make a pot of coffee or send anyone on an errand. It’s quite a story. Have you guys heard of airplanes? As has happened dozens of times, but not lately, I’d meet you at the gate.

 

 

Happy editing,

 

 

William C. Hughes