Saturday, August 31, 2013

I've Lost the Event Timer a.k.a. Dollar Tree watch, Samsung phone

As my murdered mom said, "What a handsome devil." Grandpa Howard, not Issa.

Quoting astronauts? Against the California Code!
I, William Charles Hughes, have lost my last shed of patience with this lawless crap, and I'm normally a very patient man.
The F-18, no doubt against a regulation helmet says what?
"Could you watch my stuff while I kill this asshole in front of a deputy?"
Obama resign yet?

Watergate II or WWIII?
Never up to me.

NASA, thanks for the new audio.
They made it back?
How bad is it?
So bad they are laughing--like I do often.

"Liftoff, rotgut."

"Man, oh man."
"If that's not a CIA underachiever."

HOLD ON! This is not space travel lingo. What the file contains, NSA, is the equivalent of the CAB-1 type "Black Box" audio I listen to, and you are at a barbecue drinking Miller/Coors? Enjoy your holiday, and be sure to destroy the labor movement even more, as I rejoiced at being allowed to have a bowel movement in Garcetti's train station, even with no toilet paper in my stall. Yes, the homeless man knows to always have some in a big, crazed, dirty, winter coat during the LA summer. Go to hell! Eat fresh excrement and die! Do I ever love California under sick in the head Democrats, and I used to be one of them. Someone is coming for me--not "The cops."

Due to some Apollo Command Module "spy talk," I now wonder what the hell was going on. Dick Nixon is there. It's supposedly a lighting strike. Is there anything wrong at all? Fake a crisis? Fake a fire on the Moon? Why? It's all about me, baby! And, I've got nothing better to do than play the recording again. You want something of me? Sorry, you can eat fresh, hot, plutonium, soldier/spy/slut. Frankly, my dear, I'd rather sit on the ground floor of my Irish hotel than get elected and nuke your asses. The House of Commons AKG microphone is open to me? Why was Winston Churchill in Missouri, of all places? Many of my family public records are there. {Livingston, MO--Memphis, MO} I almost attended Westminster College? NOT AMUSING. YOUR DAY TO DIE? I'M OUT IN SIX WEEKS, MOTHERFUCKER!! YOU STAY DEAD. No greater righteous "trouble" in the history of Western Civ. "Beavis" won't be in London, but if he showed, I'd not be concerned. HIs signature line? "Aw, quit fucking with William." Like Lord of the Flies. Ready to get nuked?

"Here comes two."
"I think that finally got the ISS to low voltage."

GOT ESP? There is no International Space Station yet (ISS), but as I often say, "They're plotters & planners." And I blew that sucker up in a screenplay? Let's see if I can find it. As a guy I called "Lowell, Massachusetts" said, "If only I could find the right bag," and Sean is a man of many bags? I really did work for the mental health dept. I was not the patient. To "prove it," I called Dr. A. Ready?

"What does your husband do?"
"He's in the Marines."
"He's stationed in San Diego."
"That's a long commute." 


Friday, August 30, 2013

"Uh oh," New NASA Audio for Post #114


May I shampoo my hair in the news van?
It's all about WATER.

"What the hell was that?"
"I lost a whole lot of stuff."
"Mark one bravo."
"We had a whole bunch of busses drop out."
"What do we got?"
"I can't see. There's something wrong."


"I can't find the Post Office."
"My BMW will overheat in downtown traffic."
"I am God, and space aliens invaded my fuel injectors."

They made it to the moon. Did not return.
Grandpa Howard's phone rang.
This is where "We did not really travel to the Moon" rumors started.
Typically, for me, I've had the "clincher"on my gifted IBM for a long time.
Why does Conrad yell, "There's my crater!"
It's not in the photo of the LEM supposedly on the Moon.
I await my bucket of saved for Bill Hughes Studio City "moon dust."


"We have something really big, drunk tank."
"Throw the busses, Frito."
"You got  a fox runnin' over here?"

Time out! Allow me to explain,  CA kooks.
Why is there more audio available? NASA knows I have no postage stamp, or patience remaining for all of this crazed bullcrap. Joke? "Who needs FOIA requests when your name is HUGHES." No news van yet? BrainJacked! I call it "oppositeland," when my NASA contact said, "We've heard all that before" but not from me, Howard Hughes' grandson.

"We had cardiac arrests down here too, Pete."
"There wasn't any time for that up here."

"Okay, we're all organized up here again."
"I think we've lost our number one bulge, and it's dripping all over the place. We'll have to check it later."
[I had noted droplets and mist outside the window previously. This is not good. It's fuel. Now we have more audio, MIT cowpokes]
"I was thinking about how we were going to get that thing, because it was just dripping."
"Standby five minutes."
"Continue, I've never seen that before."
"I got a little, uh, vibration, and that's why I'm checking the lock here and minding my own business...all the pressures"
[He's about to abort the mission. I don't think they would have survived that. No "lifeboat" ready, right nasa bright boys? Soon, they'd buddy-up with Ruskies. I do not wonder why].

"Okay, Pete".
"All the pressures."
"How are the pressures?"
"What pressures?"
"The tank pressures."
"Tank pressure's dead."
"I gotta get. I gotta get organized. What time is it?"

I'm not disclosing which tank is dead until the news van rolls-up. Aw, tell them, Hughes!
Oops, we're out out of re-entry gas. Might as well go to the moon and die. The rocket burn & voyage there audio, please. What a mess of a space program the USA had! (Back when we tried to go someplace).
Didn't look that way on TV?
As my spookies say, "Looks can be deceiving."
Have a nice Labor Day weekend.
I won't.

Tower Theater on N. Grand in St. Louis? Deep Sixed!

The KLOS studios have no rest room? Frank Zappa & Todd's Utopia? Not tonight. 

What does it mean, Dave? Sorry I know.
Hello? 310-AFF? I'll pay cash.
What? Cash. At the door, ninny!

My stories are no good?

"Two nuns had me cornered. 'Billy, the president has been shot. Go striaght home. Do not stop anywhere, no matter what. Do not talk to anyone. If anyone offers you a ride, don't get in the  car'."

It's called a "sequel," Bullock. What's a Panavision? Mafia! Mafia! Problem? They can't count that high. I walked home from school? Charlie was irresponsible? You did not see the "suits." I did. All the way home. I thought nothing of it. 40 more years of suits & coiled headphone wires? Didn't press the issue? Maybe there is something wrong with me. Shy? Not with beanballs served-up. May I speak to Bob Gibson before he dies on me too?   


SOUND: BEEPS at an increased rate.

Stabilizing. I almost don't believe it.

Wanna get spooked? Couldn't kill him. Here's your next president.

Shut up!


I can count the cash, girls.

Suggested by the oh so caught vampire movie director in sweat pants. Dollar Tree. Aisle 2. I got the joke in real-time, Rachel.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

August, 1969 RMN Witnesses Dead? Charlie's dead? Trust no one!!

Make up your minds, girls. I'm running for POTUS? No sweat. I win. Shittiest job on Earth. Ask Michelle Obama. 10 second commercials--because your brains are burnt-out, not mine.

The running gag is, the car, van, RV, bus won't start, and...

When lame duck Obama's limo pulls-up, now I know who is opening the hood.

Don't be.

Smashmouth or Shhhhh!???

Welcome to Schizodementiatown, USA.
The symptoms?
No public phones.
No public restrooms.
No public sector?

How to scare Hughes:
--Tell me I can't be governor of Missouri.
--Beat-up a black guy.
--Have a black guy threaten to beat me up over advocating for the black guy.
--Offer to interview me for a Sociology class I should be teaching.
--Did you follow that?

Where is this going?

"CHP, could you turn-on the goddamn cherries and drive fast to St. Louis before we all get blown-up by a motherf--king terrorist? Is this too much to ask?"

[They will treasure the audio]

Could you all shut up! {I will, too. Really, I will.}

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

"Bill, why 'ya never coming back to the U.S.?"

See the date on that sucker?

The following comment was just posted on California Healthline in regards to the article:
Inmates' Attorneys Call for More Oversight of Prison Mental Care

06/20/13 - William Hughes
Sad it is that bureaucrats calculate the cost of a human life. Did I read "one inmate per week?" Holy Toledo! To this former Missouri mental health bureaucrat and heir to all property in California, Texas, and elsewhere with my name on it (HUGHES), I allege with a great deal of experience that if the Governor reported "no convincing evidence" of improvement, they are dying at the same rate. Release them prematurely? Not a good idea, and this liberal has been mugged often in California, yet espouses the same principles. Your problem(s) out here? Too many cops, too many ticky-tacky laws, and no mental health system. To the sociopath, this is both an invitation and waving a red cape at the bull. As an old St. Louis associate said, "You f--- with the bull, you get the horns."


All fixed, gigabyte fascists! Dinner? That would be a Payday Bar, Deputies. So healthy!

Chinatown? St. Louis, I'm rumbling in the real one--not a movie, and I am not ashamed to say the whores love me. In 2009 they said what? "Warren Beatty? We've never heard of him." An hour from Hollywood. I thought, "Why are you playing me like that?" I found out later--per usual.

Jack? I think he shadowed me, back before my car was intentionally wrecked. Yes, I heard  some gossip about Mr. Nicholson's neighbors. Not related to HH? Who the hell are you?

Jane Fonda? Did I ever like Klute. Where is my Sony DVD player, Sony? No movie deal. CEH "Mental Note" = buy a movie studio, stupid.

See me in Austin door-crashing AFF to rant about the excess of "spy crap" on your Mind Control Screen. The TX GOP will love it! 
I enjoyed Point of No Return. 
The Fonda cell phone number?
It was all legal on 11019.
You leaving yet, sir?
Cops here yet?

Monday, August 26, 2013

Car Wash 40 Years Later? Got $5?

INSPIRED BY A HOMELESS FEMALE STREET BATTLE. kabc, it is called an "idea." My Political Science professor said? 

"Mister Hughes, ideas are dangerous things."

Gerald Ford was there? Whew! Now, ask her name and I'll punch your lights out, break my right hand, and where is my goddamn ObamaCare, Mr. Democrat? My murdered momma said? "Hit them with your left hand! Give 'em a solid uppercut," etc. etc. etc. Mom spied for State?

Kerry, I did not know that. You suck shit. President gone yet? "Fighting Joe" will do fine. Steal the gas station manager's business card yet? Not yet! Back in the MafiaTimeMachine we go, to 1973, when I was 17 years old, the president of something, and homeless meth boys, here is how it went. [Abridged]

"Here ye, hear ye, the Student Council is in order! Where is my Vice President? Absent again, eh? Sally, the minutes please. What do you want? Money for the Pep Club? I hate you dumb jocks. This is on the record. {I can see Donna H. laughing still}. A car wash? Alright, we'll have a car wash."

A few weeks later, I drove past the gas station in my 1968 Chrysler Newport, just like RFK's.  I honked the presidential horn and asked, "How's it going?" The cheerleaders yelled, "Hughes, get a car wash!" I said, "I'm not paying for that," and drove away. On Monday, I inquired, "How much did we make?" The total was $320? $329? In that range. All of it went to the jocks--not a cent in my mandatory Navy Blue pants. They did not forget. Sal Cira, our big Fullback, was going to beat me up? Nope. I said, "Sally and I are riding around on business. I'm not, blah, blah, blah." Sal said, "I know, Hughes" and Biology class proceeded to meet. [The Catholic "B-Track" version. Me? Med school? No way!] 

Moral of the story for Meth Morons: I was treated more like an adult at age 17 than 57. Car wash for the LA Downtown homeless? No wax. No detailing. I will collect studio/agent business cards and 15% No? I'm allowed to call Hilton's Checkers reservation number and ask if Paris is included in that outta sight rack rate. She is? "Put your back into that squeegee, son! Hurry your ass up, too! I need some cash!"

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Snoopy's gone wild!!!

GO DOWN TO MEXICO? ME? It's what my late daddy called a "Bum steer."

SOLDIER SAID IT. DRUG SCUM SAID IT. I say, "Off with their heads!" The drug cartel guys, not you. GOT WEED? I gotta get to Switzerland, where it snows, snows, snows. The guy who said, in 1977, "The powder is awesome!" In prison for 20 years? I did not know that. "Bill, let's go get some pot." "Know where I could get some heroin?" Meet my "friends." They are not what they appear to be. Those were narcs bowing to me? I can't help it. I did not know that. Time to go!

Trouble on MAC Apollo #10 too? GOD DID NOT CREATE THE EARTH IN SEVEN, EXCUSE ME, SIX DAYS. WHO IS THE ENEMY? Gimmie a weapon, and I'll figure it out, Drugboy/Thugboy. Charlie Hughes did not write those books. I do.

Next, and I already told KABC. NASA = Need Another Space Agency: Real Space Program History from Howard's Grandson.

Drugs? The Union Station in LA was like "Drug Station" from 1990 on? Looks that way to me, but mafia(s) need not "Kill Bill," because I cannot prove this in a court of law, and as for the FBI, DEA, etc., they can take a flying dot gov fuck as I go to Europe and fail to return. Mormons? Drugs! Catholics? Drugs! Lutherans? Drugs! With my money? As we said in Thousand Oaks, "I'll fuck you up!" False. All mental health and drug allegations ascribed to me, William Charles Hughes, are false.

Comedy flick? Far from it. I should be good & dead, and despite no crimes committed, worthless Obama .gov troops just watch like bloodsucking niggahs. Reparations? Not on my watch over the Hughes Empire. Davos? I'm J.R., you idiots! Born in 1989? Watch Dallas on You Tube, like I'm going to, after I finish with Apollo 10. Office? I need an office. And a home, U.S. terrorists with tidy mini-mansions and paid on time mortgages.

YOU FUCKED UP BAD, AND CONSEQUENTLY, the rain will fall in Spain, and you may see skinny me on the Greek or French coast, looking plenty rich & eligible, girls. That's after I get my:
- Multivitamin (Dr. Victoria said Centrum or generic)
- 81 mg Aspirin (Running to Ralph's terrorists? Nope.)
- Niacin (For my slightly out of whack cholesterol. You got whacked by mafia? Too bad, as I know nothing of your wicked "drug shit").
- Primrose Oil (For my Royal bowels, and it calms me down a bit, too. Dead yet? Fucked up? Face re-arranged? Tonight, big boy!)

Who has been nice? Iranians. I could not have freed the 1979 hostages as Mr. C.I.A.? Ask H.W., and quit your game playing. Ambassador Hughes? Any sane President would have done that long ago, instead of trapping me in LA through the misuse of my own "George Jetson/Star Trek" technology. My dad called it "Buck Rogers." Same stuff, and no longer new or "secret."

Is it illegal to shout, "Obama is insane! The mayor is big mafia!" No, it is not. Offended? As they say in "VC," you must be getting your "cut." One rotten cop spoils the barrel, and as Russian spy Rosemary said after delivering a Grande Starbucks coffee and Cinnamon Roll, "They sure have enough cops around here."

As nasa Mission Control once said about fake lightning, "Amen!" Hughes in politics snarling stuff like, "I'm a Roman Catholic, and I do not go to church" won't go? The Canadian church group seemed to like it, as did the Dream Center. My transportation? CHP now thinks Alameda is the Freeway, so I'll try 800-TELL-CHP and suggest the cowpokes with a six-shooter were from Disney with a stolen car. Or, from the studio lot. Universal, perhaps? No "State Police" in yellow on the back? As I've said, "I'm not spying, I'm very observant."

Officer Walker? All 90 pounds of her, all the way home. Right Jerry? Her signature line? "This is our lot!" That's when Greg, "Beavis," Bob, Gio, Jordan, Chris, and all the guys allowed them to be there. Future interviewer, it's a long story. As Manic/Movie Mike said long ago, "They will have to make it a mini-series."

So true.


Saturday, August 24, 2013

Belle Neighbors Grass Clippings

CA Number Kooks--it's Post 107

The arguments over---OBAMA RESIGN YET?

"Sorry about that."??? My imminent death? Nope, just more juvenile terrorists with an I-pod. I called the Chicago fbi office from a pay phone, and they had gone home early? Nope, here watching you, not me. Since I lived before in ancient Egypt as a Pharaoh  I know they are excited to be not setting up innocent A-rabs for a change. Real terrorists! We all share in the excitement, as I get ready for my two-week "murder" trial. Hung jury? Literally? Don't get carried away, boys. Death--it's permanent, son.

Back to 1970's #5 Forest Home arguments about bagging the grass, again I won the debate. What my dad, Howard Hughes' son, wanted was mulch, when we had no garden. I said, as a insubordinate teen, "Dad, those fucking bushes are half dead, and Jim could grab a rake, that big lazy ass." Next thing I knew, Jim was raking, and I was no longer carrying big bags of sort of wet grass long distances. The Lucido's know I am right, and where are the photos?


I mow, you rake. It was not rocket science. As for the cleaning #5 gutters debates, I can state Howard's son did in fact kick me in the butt. No cops were called. Lugging railroad ties on "Charlie's Chain Gang?" That's for KABC, if the bastards show. 


Monday, August 19, 2013

I'm Only Running for the Train

(I've already got a job, thanks. It is not rewriting NASA history, Chris, but thanks for the first denial).
Got a stamp?
August 19, 2013

Office of General Counsel
Federal Election Commission
999 E Street NW
Washington, DC  20463

William Charles Hughes
Homeless/No Address
Los Angeles, CA  90012

To Whom it Concerns at the Federal Election Commission:

On the sixtieth anniversary of the founding of USA’s Central Intelligence Agency, I filed a Political Action Committee (C00431841) and funded it with five-thousand dollars ($5,000) of my own money. The “plan” was to clown around as a Democrat candidate in the 2008 New Hampshire Presidential Primary and write a book. Instead, a real-life James Bond movie began, which must end now.

No mental disorder, no drug abuse, no crime committed, no espionage, and every scrap of property I’ve ever owned has been reduced to what sits at my feet in Starbucks—Union Station, Los Angeles. Financial instruments? Still there, I trust, but inaccessible. How many times, to deaf ears have I said, “You cannot access MONEY without a postal mailbox and telephone.” I have neither. My PAC? Again, no postage stamp and the Quarterly Report to inform you of $90 received is now going on two months late.

I may end up dead, and this letter is found on my donated IBM laptop. Not dead? How am I printing it out? When I arrived in California, I had two Brother laser printers, a Lexmark, and an HP. All gone. Where? I don’t think the FBI much cares. I do. Your political process in the United States? I don’t think I care any more. Why not? Too many days of sitting in the hot California sun dying slowly. Yes, I’ll live to see Barack Obama arrested and prosecuted for this carefully planned torture program run on me because he cannot hide behind Executive Privilege once out of office, or so a hopefully not overturned court decision said a few years back.

I’m a big believer in Administrative Law, and actually thought about becoming an Administrative Law Judge in 1982. Later, my Graduate School at the University of Wisconsin informed me my near 4.0 academic performance was not good enough, and out the door I went to cook clams at Howard Johnson’s. Oh, that memory of mine! Did the same Secret Service agent who handcuffed Sara Jane Moore tell me not to go outside with the smokers at a certain theatre? A defeated by Carter Jerry Ford in a theatre? I sure do get the joke way too late. More? On the fifth anniversary of John Hinckley shooting Ronald Reagan, I saw two guys with suits and wide ties walk in a diner. Who were they? Did a sneaky Reagan say, “He could have been a wide receiver, he ran so fast.” (From the Uzi that was really in my face on March 30, 1986). If I am correct about “Ford’s Theater” and the fifth anniversary Uzi event, that would mean that every president in my lifetime either took a look or was on the phone to someone near me. The long phone call, not in the flesh fellow? James Earl Carter. The rest took a look, and I did not think the limo was from a funeral parlor. I did not know what to make of it, and wondered, as I still do today, what the hell is going on?      

Down to electoral business here, my complaint is against the following politicians and their PACS: George W. Bush, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Barack Obama, Jerry Brown, and in particular, Diane Feinstein. Why the emphasis on Feinstein? She fancies herself an expert on intelligence matters, and I’m reasonably sure I am far too acquainted with one of her relatives, who shall remain unnamed in this communication. I simply cannot seek any federal office with the entire international intelligence apparatus breathing down my neck, and I am squarely blaming these politicians for the “dirty tricks” and mayhem that has plagued my life since may 5, 2008.

I have “Bipolar Affective Disorder?” “Schizophrenia?” “Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?” Oh, so that is why I am sleeping upon filthy Los Angeles streets? Could you read my first book? Several literary agencies and publishers did. How many times have I said, regarding Howard, “Head injury, because grandpa made planes for the Army, and crashed them more than once.” Why was Bill Hughes a plane-watcher? Why do I watch F-22 & Typhoon video? Because I want one. And, the company would probably sell me an unarmed one with some pale bureaucrat’s permission. NASA? Let’s not go there on how from Apollo 11 onward, the name of the game in Houston and Kennedy Space Center was sabotage. Grandpa Howard tried to stop it. He was not responsible for it.

Still no news van? Now, I don’t care either. My political future, if I have time? Maybe governor, of which state I do not know, until someone asks me to run for office. Oddly enough, I’ve been addressed as “Mister  President” dozens of times in California, and if I wanted to be insulting, I’d say they all needed “rehab.” Some ended up there. Some more than once in my five largely wasted California years. I believe it was 1978—same year I bad-mouthed the Space Shuttle design—someone said I’d be accused of thinking I’m the President of the United States. I said, “Why the f--- would I think that?” Thirty-one years later, an angry woman in the Goebel Senior Adult Center said, “I got labeled, too.” When I inquired as what, “Substance abuse” was her two-word answer. I said no more.

My third book? Maybe I’m a prophet; I don’t know until I get the hell out of Los Angeles and find a literary agent. Not to divert from politics, but when four movie production company clues have been dropped lately, that does not buy a coffee refill, but 50 cents does. I’ll now find the photo of Howard Hughes Jr. looking bored while making a movie. Me? I need a pre-production year to supposedly be “depressed” like in 1987. Try to get in my door, and I’ll shoot your ass dead. Clear?

Most sincerely,

William Charles Hughes



DWIGHT EISENHOWER – I was under age 5, but my dad Charles Edward Hughes gave me a thick book about him. I read it. Where is it?

JOHN F. KENNEDY – Waldorf Astoria, Chicago, 1961.

LYNDON BAINES JOHNSON – Our Lady of Good Counsel, Fall, 1968.

RICHARD M. NIXON – St. Louis, Gateway Arch, August, 1969.

GERALD FORD – Lindenwood College, November, 1976.

JIMMY CARTER – Amsterdam, The Netherlands (on phone), June, 1977.

RONALD REAGAN – State Diner, Ithaca, NY, March 30, 1986. 

GEORGE H.W. BUSH – Tan Tar A, Lake Ozark, 1991.

BILL CLINTON – Air Force One/Ward 2W Lunch Line, Metropolitan Psychiatric Center, 1999

GEORGE W. BUSH – Opening Day, St. Louis Cardinal Season, 2005/Einstein’s Bagels, 2005/Panera Bread Company, 2006

BARACK OBAMA – Marine One, Thousand Oaks, California, 2011.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Not a Papal Conspiracy

The Pope in Rome is not telling me what to do. I thought we covered that 1960-1963. It did not end well. That said, I think this Pope is better than the last Pope. He resigned? I still can't get over that, and I'm only seen in Mass when it is Christmas, or I'm shaking hands with Grandpa Howard. Sneaky, that paternal Austrian grandma of mine. I can go to the Baptist church if I want. Temple? I know how to read the prayer book, and if I'm one-eighth Jewish, as I suspect, can I march around with the Torah?

We'll discuss this later, with the bus bench that is likely private property.



"NASA? Lock the doors."
"god" is not buying you a satellite, Hooters.
Obama quit yet?
He's making it to the end of his second term?
Kids, in many democracies on this Earth, the new guy has put his/her predecessor in jail.
USA, it is time.
Sorry he's half black.
Next time, we'll look for darker skin. 

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Great Moments in American Politics

"That's not an election, is it?"
"No sir, it's not."


Here at Union Station LA to cough-cough and start a fight?
You will lose.
Apollo 12 upsets you?
The 1916 and 2000 election results keeping you awake?
No, that’s your damn meth/crank/crystal.
Big Drug War coming. Hot! Real hot!!
You lose.

Campaign promise #2: I will find and kill every member of the organization long known as the “Mafia.”
You are terrorists.
[By anyone’s definition]

First I have to get elected.
Make like Abe 2.0.
Tell D.O.J. lawyers to go to hell.
Get a Declaration of War.
And your full name is?


Can you spell it, DrugBoy/ThugBoy?

My Great Uncle won in 1916.
Right Gardner?
My count is 57 votes short in NH.
New York Times in 1916 said 68.
Let’s rock! Recount! Recount! Recount!
Get ready Roberts, John.
Can’t lend you an Excedrin—they stole mine.


p.s. New VC-25A model? Modest vehicle parked next to it. Don’t stare at my wallpaper, or I’ll “Cal the _____” in here. As ROSEMARY said, “They sure have enough cops around here.” 209 Billion on that garbage Endeavor and her sisters, parked where? I want my money back!

From the Sixth Street Digital Toaster: “It’s like a rock with wings. It glides down. Jesus Christ, you can’t even turn the engines back on. What a dumb idea.” – Me, (1978).

Source: The ChuckieTown Laundromat Popular Mechanics. I got briefers, too! They’ve been around a long time.  

Today's Free Clue: "Anna might come over."

It is called an LCSW, but I'd rather beat the stuffing out of Baca. Just for fun.
I tried to get a job there. I really did. Lovely Lisa said, "You need to suck-up to a politician to get it done." I said, "I can do that." NO CRIME WAS COMMITTED, AND THE ILLINOIS STATE POLICE WERE WATCHING. Now I know why.


More later, after I am arrested for something I did not do--like China.
Slogans? "California; it's China's Alaska"
Look alive, Clark Bar!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Like I Need This, Too?

"Richard F. "Dick" Gordon orbited the moon on Apollo 12. Earlier, he helped astronauts learn how to spacewalk."

I fear is trying to tell us something. He didn't make it back, either? Later, he did what? Were you born in 1990? I suspiciously have landed at both of the Space Shuttle's old "ditch points," and I can count my flights on ten fingers. Your options with a fatally damaged Command Module and a LEM that caught fire on the way down are? Land and die. That's all.

I think, because it is still legal, that's why they sound kind of crazy, and the audio after he says the magic word ["fire"] fades out. Not wrong? Don't so much as look at me kookily until Monday morning, or...

Does anybody see this blog? I don't think I'm taking the train after all, NASA..

As bad as the SPENCER hints, those GORDON references.

Far left and far right nutcases? Just because they lie doesn't make me right.
May I go to the moon and see for myself, Pentygon?
Got 50 cents?

MAC Apollo 11, 12, 13, and?

Dear Deceased Dad:

I need another 1987. God help these fools.


"Flight econ, the pressure in 02 tank is all the way down to 297. You better think about getting in the LEM."

Folks, Ron Howard left a few things out. 

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Back! Back off!! [I did not know this]

"Wilson narrowly won the election, defeating Republican candidate Charles Evans Hughes. As governor of New York from 1907 to 1910, Hughes had a progressive record strikingly similar to Wilson's as governor of New Jersey. Theodore Roosevelt would comment that the only thing different between Hughes and Wilson was a shave. However, Hughes had to try to hold together a coalition of conservative Taft supporters and progressive Roosevelt partisans and so his campaign never seemed to take a definite form. Wilson ran on his record and ignored Hughes, reserving his attacks for Roosevelt. When asked why he did not attack Hughes directly, Wilson told a friend to "Never murder a man who is committing suicide."[100]
The result was exceptionally close and the outcome was in doubt for several days. The vote came down to several close states. Wilson won California by 3,773 votes out of almost a million votes cast and New Hampshire by 54 votes. Hughes won Minnesota by 393 votes out of over 358,000. In the final count, Wilson had 277 electoral votes vs. Hughes's 254. Wilson was able to win by picking up many votes that had gone to Teddy Roosevelt or Eugene V. Debs in 1912."[101]

Gather Around and Stare

The St. Louis courthouse I need to be in is named after the guy on the left. The fellow on the right died before I could talk to him again. This pissed me off--BAD. 

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Jamestown, NY? Why not yell my name again?

Hillary Clinton For President
1900 M Street NW, Suite 500
Washington, DC  20036

Dear Ms. Moskwa:
Somebody needs to be knocked out of the 2016 race NOW. The President of the United States needs to resign now. I have no legal troubles whatsoever, and hundreds of punks and provocateurs trying to create some. YOU WILL FAIL.I am tired of being TORTURED brutally in California with no end in sight. If it comes to it, I will surely roll a homeless shopping cart up to a consulate if this continues. I'm leaving the Swiss Consulate? No, I would not, corrupt cop/dirty deputy.    

C-O-U-R-T. The speakers are Spendor? Altec? AR?

The guy is not yelling Obama's name? Yes, he is.
The song?
Civil War

Warner Brothers was here.
As my future security wonk says, "That has nothing to do with me," and it didn't, right Union Station management?

How long ago was it that I got the official WB lyrics sheet?
It does NOT say,
"If only Bill Hughes and your're brother's my friend, all we need is the..."

Another band besides REO has been clught yelling out my name on stage. They are all talking about a differenct person.

No, I'm going to be in recording studio editing the tasty lick from a .38 Special song for a PAC commercial and guess what?


Bill Hughes (William)?

Free psychotherapy.
Free crisis intervention.
Free how to fix California's very broken mental health system.
Free A-B ads?
[That's corporate, not public. That's where I stop talking]


As with Christina A.'s song I put in my screenplay, she'd get paid, not laid, although...
And, I'm allowed to watch her dance, and kids, you can't do that right away, you must work hard at it, like I did with all of my unpublished/unproduced work. That has to stop.

My gulag joke?
"When they let you out, you've got buddies for life."
[And don't try now. Too late.]


And, you fucked me over so bad, what am I planning?

Who was the guy in Starbucks who, when I motioned happily, said, "You are not waving at me. I'll beat your ass," blah, blah, blah

This is why I say,

What did he do to your history if I ever got there?
I would not attend my successor's inauguration.
My uncles worked for State, and said,
"Take a slow boat to China."

The young Marine would bark:
"Sir, you are no longer President of the United States!"


[But not before I said, "Son, what are you going to do with your life?" Staying in the service? Are you nuts?"
{You do not get the Toys For Tots Marines story here]

Where is the network camera? I'll keep it away. 
And you big, fat, mafia TERRORISTS know how.
Don't you?

EBT Blues

While your Chevron was attacked and destroyed by an angry Lollypalouzi mob, I was discussing the young man's novel, and putting a dart gun the U.S. intelligence community really has in a scene where the great Sandra's line is: "Well, it was a stupid question."

Are we in Austin yet?

Friday, August 2, 2013

Don't 'ya Hate That?

One minute I'm laughing at my screenplay by visualizing the great and thoroughly attainable HILTON-LOHAN-BULLOCK trio uttering my lines, but "they" just had to turn off the Wi-Fi as I sought news from home about an autistic kid stuck in a closet (original thinking in Missouri). has a sore server, I'm there so much in CA captivity. This led to a threat to just listen to airplane crash audio instead of proof script and bash (R) & (D) equally on the Senate server.

Lo and behold! The Delta L-1011 went down where on today's date in 1985? I was working at an Ivy League school at that time, with a tall blond across the street where I was tempted to ask, "Are you a narc or Secret Service?" but did not. Because of this particular click, Hughes is now furious about how with an airplane in great distress, dumbass TX Tower keeps practically asking for a Tuna Sandwich headcount. Microburst in a T-storm? Don't think so!

Cosmically, this crunched aircraft is the one I may have flown sneakily over the Atlantic if I were not so HH clueless. No kids, I would not have heard the 1970's/1980's
18:05:49 GPWS Whoop Whoop Pull Up!

And what was that, sir? Bill Hughes always looks for that first sign of trouble in the lame, lying .gov transcript.

18:04:15 CAM-3 Fourteen, green.
18:04:18 CAM-2 There's lightning coming out of that one.
18:04:19 CAM-1 What?

134 dead, eh? The plane hit what? Comcast Man said what? The name of HughesScreenplay #11 is what? I just asked SW Airlines for what? The Dallas phone number they gave me is what? May I not use your phone? Who needs a phone? The martial arts instructor and dance instructor is the same gal? Got a sister? So that's why I can't leave! Good thing I watched Apollo 15 go up before the meth boys got out of their crack hotel beds. They are allowed to charge their phone as well, right Erin?

Back to Delta, I wonder where that Incident Report is for all of my 1977 flying in circles over Atlanta. I had falsely blamed Eastern. You'd think I'd get a clue when I'd hold airliners at the gate and a voice on the other end would say, "Need anything else today, Mister Hughes?" Same line at the TWA office?

Kill me now.
Kill me later. What happened? 
"Who are you?"
And the new New Hampshire Governor's name is?
May I take a vacation? 

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dear Mr. Mafia Mayor

I don't write blog. Pam and Kelly killed me last night. Go to hell, all of you Californians. "Fit for a nuking," I say often, and will continue to say in public or private life. Now that I've made "nice-nice" with the mayor's office, following California Communist Central Committee tradition, the nice bike cop will give me a ticket for sleeping on the sidewalk tonight, but no other creatures will be cited, because they are all high, drunk, and paying for sex with their SSI windfall.


Questions I won't ask in-person:
1. How many times did I mention my Food Stamp card as my only asset, and no one told me the Chevron accepts EBT?
2. Why was I unable to walk a block a few days prior? (No food, no water, malnourished, and the bus drivers lie--a lot. No groceries on their route? Google found three stores).
3. Any other city where a man can ask, "Anybody know where a grocery store is?" dozens of times, an the f--king computer told me it is 3 blocks away? Friendly town, sir! 
4. The pay phone? "Given up," by a homeless woman so ill she was next seen in a wheelchair pushed by her also physically debilitated Vet partner. Sickening. Really sickening. And I am the "bad guy?" Go to hell, sir. 
5. How do you know when Hughes has a near heat stroke? I wanted to be a cop today after being pestered greatly as a kid i.e. "He'd make Sergeant in no time," or "He'd end up a detective." Too late for cop school, but as I finally had $24 worth of junk food I watched one cop get his lunch at the Taco stand, and another at Subway. I was jealous in a not schizophrenic way. I don't know why. Then, when the cop came in the flatbed , we had a scintillating discussion on DUI policies and procedures. Did I mention I'm getting drunk and picking up New Hampshire females this Winter? Don't miss out, N.E. factory girls!
6. Now I'm cursing and carrying on at Michelle Obama too, because...
7. I count seven layers of cops, and how many miles on cop cars per crime stopped in progress, LA City Fathers? They drive around a lot as the mental cases holler in the night. Sometimes I raise my voice too, as with, "You stinky cop! Don't you dare get out of that car!" I'm ashamed of myself, until I win the New Hampshire Primary big, then try to quit and move to Canada. Border closed? Big terror event? I had nothing to do with it, my ESP/STP tells me, as does hard evidence that will be ignored, I am sure. {The Seven Rays/Seven layers of protection: 1. Safety Patrol; 2. Security Guard; 3. Amtrak Cop; 4. Transit Cop; 5. LAPD; 6. LA Deputy; 7. CHP.} Feel safe? The mayor's staff could bring a sleeping bag. No?  


I am not your "brother," but I am sure mine was MURDERED by Mafia.
I am not your "buddy," I'd like to kick your ass but good. Thus, I'll be meeting my new, nasty, kill you fast martial arts instructor. I'm "quick," your thugs have proclaimed, so I might as well save the cost and waiting period of a firearm and kill your big, bald, ignorant lunkhead with my own hands. The Secret Service girls already saved me a Dollar Tree buck by gifting hair ties to ponytail the stringy, increasingly dirty not Rasta Man mess. Got free shampoo at the Hilton?