Sunday, May 22, 2016

AC = 117 or...ZAP 220

Looks like BILL HUGHES, but it's not!


Dear “Maddog”:

I have managed to contact a number of Lindenwood people, but it seems no one wants to talk. I do not consider moronic Facebook posts to be communication. B---- S------? Why that big k--- piece of crap has the same type of job and refused to get off his big ass to help me in any way. Seems Mr. A----- quit KSHE abruptly and now works at some “cut-out” company where they think they are “spies” and sell something or other. The KSHE texter has just called the music industry bad names. How about one word? MAFIA.

“Hey kid, we’ll make your record a hit.” MAFIA. Hey buddy, we got a new guitar player for you.” MAFIA. “Hey pal, your tune is now number one.” MAFIA. “Miss D.J., I’ve got some white powder and a download you will like.” MAFIA. This creep is still called the “A&R Guy?” That I would not know, without calling the KLOS kshe where they answer the phone thusly: “Hey, Bill.” Across the hall at KABC, it’s: “Want do you want, Hughes?”

Not related to Howard? “Oh, they just think he’s an entertaining street person.” No, that’s not it. Sometime in 2009, I was washing dishes and listening to KLOS. The woman’s house was a mess. The deal? “Clean up my house, and you can stay here a week.” The KLOS promo featured an audio effect that sounded like a big transformer frying. The deep voice intoned: “K-L-O-S…Los Angles.” I thought, “Jesus, am I ever in the wrong place.”

Back to good old Saint Louis, and the lady who rented that part of a house with a big MAFIA bitch upstairs walked by smiling. She had threatened to run for Congress, and should do just that. What was she doing in St. Louis? Spying. On who? How the fuck would I know? Later, I saw Jill J. walking up Delmar in the Loop. She’s the one I went to and said, “You know, this president shit is crazy. These people smoke way too much weed. What do you think?” She said? “You might win.” This happened two more times. I said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” The straight as an arrow JillFace said, “No. No, I’m not.” She’s a grade school teacher by now, because it is five goddamn years since that clowning took place an hour outside of LA (If you drive 80-100, as they routinely do).

I told another attractive female out there she could pick out clothes for me since I am not exactly a dapper dresser. She said? “I can do more than that.” Later, always later, I found out in addition to her family and her boyfriend’s family working at, and being laid off by MGM, there was more. What’s that?

Her grandmother introduced Howard Hughes to Jean Peters, who he would later marry. Ouch! That explained her free coffee at the [Start guessing between Coffee Bean, Starbucks, Pete’s, and Panera]. Bill Hughes likes coffee, as you may recall. T----, many people can play the guitar like Jimi Hendrix, act as well as Hepburn or Tracy, write like a Steinbeck, or dance like the ballet, yet they say, “Fuck it! I’d rather bag groceries at Ralph’s.”

Why do they say that an hour outside of LA? The in-law is a rock star. The neighbor won an Oscar. They don’t care. They say, “Fuck it!” I met a lot of people like that, not pop stars, although what one of them did was: a). Took off her makeup; b). Possibly took some good old LSD; and c). Brought a Galaxy phone for poor old Bill to use. I recall yelling, “Are you people all high? Get the fuck out of here! You! And you! You can stay. Everybody else, outta here!” (I then called a certain Democrat U.S. Senator, and subsequently his staff changed the outgoing voice mail message to make fun of us).

Why? The female in question stands to inherit something, and is going to get screwed, but not. What is the product? Where did you work on C------ Road?


Bill H.

[Standing in line at the airport? We could help you with that]

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