Long
ago, adventurous .mil guys traveled to the Moon
I'm a civilian, like Howard.
I am pleased NASA neo-Nazis did not erase lunar descent
statements like: “Plenty
of gas.”
Let’s talk about fighting, and
not Rush Limbaugh. Agreed? Fake GOP patriots, I almost evaded service in
Vietnam by getting killed with a Red Cross on the jeep and would have remained just
as Ernie Hemingway dead. Get it? Okay! “Get that Medic Hughes over here! Shit,
he’s dead!” they would have shouted above the sound of my own fucking
helicopter(s). Right soldier? Right!
“Amazing” discoveries can be
made when you fail to steal my notebooks, and this goes back to a lay teacher
from Argentina in 1966, people. For example, I’ve determined the day after I
wrote a little essay called “Mister President, Let’s Fight,” here’s what
apparently happened. A skinny black male “shadowed” me. Proof? Two
identical bus transfers that expire at the same time, but no one came in the
house, right relatives? Wrong!
Okay, Lexus driving U.S. 40/I-64
excuse-makers, here’s the public transit deal:
- The typically cantankerous Uncle Tom driver will not sell you two.
- I did not buy an “extra” from a 14th Street hustler for the same date/time.
- I did not find & pocket an extra transfer ticket from the filthy bus floor.
Therefore, a moron entered my
house and put it here. Better yet, I saw him both at the bus stop, and on a
previous incarnation at the “We tell motel.” Fortunately, I took the liberty of
jotting down his new black Impala license plate #. Oh baby! Don’t you know no
one cares about the safety of one Bill Hughes? Yes, mom declared me the “Man
of the House” in about 1964, and no, she did not vote for Goldwater, but
Charlie Hughes probably did. Now, let’s say that’s not him in the pic from the convention
floor of the Cow Palace in San Francisco. Under Barry Goldwater’s California banner? Good night, Irene!
The ABC cameraman is a black dude! How “liberal” could they get? Burned-up the
video tape? Of course you did!
(Do
you see how that ‘lil dish debuted very early, AT&T?) I do!
Let’s deny facts all day, shall we? I’d rather not.
A). A guy identified himself as
“Secret Service” and watched the Yoga class, not me.
B). I allege the female was
whacked, and there were plenty of bums supposedly sleeping on the ABC / CHP /
JPL parking lot at the time.
C). Later, I was asked by someone
I recognized from the Go-Go 80’s if I knew where to find some heroin. My exact
response = “No, but some pretty weird stuff goes on this parking lot.”
D). What I called “The Babe Wave”
hit me on that lot, and is likely another compartmentalized, above Top Secret
thing, or possibly a private company is selling the woman in the white
Volvo with an I-Pod on her tanned California leg. She said what? “I’d love to
have you over, but they won’t let me out.” Pardon me? As I often said on the
Left Coast, “This just can’t be legal.” I was distressed by Orwell’s 1984
in high school, but if that’s the way you all want it, I’m allowed to ask,
“What does she cost?”
As a date on New Year’s Eve, son?
Hey, I’m from Saint Louis, and nobody moves that fast around here unless Buddy
Busch finds a Mark McGuire foul ball whizzing toward his drunken face. John Ulett
will back me up on that, unless his radio partner poisoned him and I've yet to read about his demise in the Post.
Granny Army? After going to her corner market, I often asked, “Why do you turn
to the obits first?” And, it’s a real H.W. Bush signature on her Christmas card!
{Insert fast lawyer talk here, like, “Mr. Hughes has
made no representation of a claim to godjillions of dollars, nor did he attend a
Bored of Alderman meeting to yell from the gallery at worthless, spineless, swindling
civic statuary who simply need a good old fashioned Harry Truman…N-word of
sufficient mega-tonnage to…” Internet off yet???}
[Old
dude movies you should rent = Stepford Wives & Westworld]
Yvelaze
Sayvarlebi
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