June 22, 2017
Dear Mr. Washburn:
I am now going to borrow a Clint Eastwood line in a war movie when his character says this to a British spy: “I’ve never been more confused in my life.” Same here, after being told the Atomic Homefront movie is sold out in St. Louis, then a woman from the same advocacy group told me to buy a ticket, as if I had not just talked to the producer. Maybe they don’t gossip enough like the housewives in my North County neighborhood. I’m ready to sell movie rights about me because in 1970 I really did flirt with the mayor’s daughter, and then my stepmother alleged I was gay. This is called a “double bind” in psychiatry, I called it bullshit when the neighbor said I’d be arrested for talking to Rene.
Oh, they hate that intact memory!
I have a memory that features the first Paramount Klingon carrying a later stolen by the Sheriff backpack up the steps of a motel. The Sheriff breaks the law, the Sheriff goes to jail. That’s the way I see it, and unlike in Missouri I might even pass the California driver’s test in case the studio driver has a heart attack on U.S. 101.
Trust me, the 21 year old wants to make a movie, the 61 year old does not. The plan is like the that medical joke that goes, “Watch one, do one, teach one.” Maybe if her papers are in order, I can hire the Iranian woman who gave me a film school hat. No? There’s always panhandling in silence with my anti-Obama sign. I skipped law school but surely could have gotten a J.D. as evidenced by the sign not asking for any money. Not many “street people” offer to park the cop car for a gratuity at a famous in their own minds LA Mexican restaurant, but I did.
Extremist of all varieties wanted me on the Los Angeles County Jail bus, but I told the deputy driver early on this was not happening. Odd how nobody has video of that discussion. I am further allowed to think it was a Dodger player who encouraged me to “Have sexual relations with them.” He put it differently, however in using the “F-word.”
Commissioner Kimberly Coon I made one call to her clerk and then I’m holding open the Quick Trip door for police? Even if there is no cause and effect, the problem is that the many crimes I need to report span the nation, but at least the thieving stopped in Saint Louis County, if not vandalism and death threats.
William C. Hughes
Dear Dawn –
An old rule of mine that started with Catholic priests is, “If you curse, then I can curse.” Okay, you call Ben what? I’m going to now say “What’s with this bitch?” and it is one of your people. What did I just say yesterday? Twitter tweets are not an good form of communication. Seems to me I talked to your husband on the phone. Seems to me I talked to you twice on the phone. If you suburban housewives would listen in-person to a fraction of what I’ve been through since I disconnected my A.T.&T. 710 phone in late October 2007 at 911 St. Rita Avenue in Clayton, we could agree to not be smart-asses and do something effective. Now, a smart ass “friend” of mine might say, “Where is Clayton?” I’ve asked this about a Lindenwood female by that name for too long when I saw her with gray hair and the same butt filling her jeans by the Sprouts grocery store in Westlake Village. It wasn’t her? Yes, it was!
What is so important about that? She may have saved a little something and had some kids without my permission, if you heterosexual females get what I mean. Gosh, I’d love to have my photo back of her firstborn who looks nothing like his supposed Ironworker daddy! So, what is the problem with Jan’s tweet?
First, I was just told the show is sold out.
Now, I’m supposed to buy a ticket with no clothes, decent shoes, or “nice” coat and tie to wear at the Press Club in D.C. in order to run my mouth in front of microphones Jerome King said he’d go get. Patty Power over two years ago said she provides free ice water, and Melanie Iardi gave me a tutorial on how you can pay more and put video on the Internet. I recall saying, “Even I know how to upload a U-tube.” And you were just there? Last time I was in D.C. a lady went by on the courthouse steps with a special kind of briefcase we are not discussing.
No, I do not have money for the Tivoli. If Dish Communications and movie publicist Ashley Mariner wants to attend--and I already asked her--she would have to buy the tickets. Get it? I am grateful Ashley straightened me out on who is the publicist and who is the producer, then James Freydberg and you confirmed Rebecca is the filmmaker in the house, as I suspected.
I will not waste my mental health career, nor will I try to rebuild your V-8 engine in the driveway. Do you people believe I told the St. Charles Flying Club owner almost a year ago who I am and he does not argue? $109 to fly the plane, just like daddy’s apartment number downwind from the landfill. This might not be a “coincidence,” because they saw me gawking at the aircraft in Portage Des Sioux. Sorry I figured out why the old TWA ticket office was so fast & efficient for me and why the First Officer so chatty. (Back when they were not “paranoid” about that sacred door)
I will now continue beating my head against the U.S.D.O.J. “wall,” where spies are supposed to toss the file over to criminal prosecutors. If that system I wrote about in my book titled Gangster Nation were functioning properly, you would have at least two movies made by me on a DVD and your shelf by now. Instead, I do things like argue with Florida females, get angry, take a walk by Mohammed Atta’s apartment, then later find out who lived there. I don’t know how I do it!