@605
12.17.2016
5:35
a.m.
Dear Mr.
Dohle:
As often
happens, I am so busy I’m writing a reply before I read your e-mail response.
Since I last wrote, I called CBC during regular business hours and they would
not answer the phone! So, like Charlie Hughes, now you get a story.
When I
was rubbing shoulders with actors, actresses, TV producers, and rich guys, there
was a pair of women from the Philippines who would come in a public computer
lab every week. And, every week they would ask “What is your shoe size?” Every
time I said, “Eleven.” They never brought any shoes! The guy who did I
nicknamed “Frank, the Shoeman” because he did bring three pair. His daughters
were successful women, and his wife worked at Disney. All of Frank’s stories were heard, yet I never got his last
name! I was stuck there so long; all of Frank’s shoes fell apart.
Another
detail about the Filipino women is they were apparently “caregivers” for a
nutty as hell man who also used the public computer. When I sized-up this guy,
my joke was, “I think they are doing more than clean the house.” (As with
caregiver & prostitute). Anything goes out there, Jim! As Dick Nixon said,
just don’t get caught. I do have a last name for Chuck Morsa. Chuck would proposition old ladies in a manner that
would have him expelled from junior high, but not the “senior center of the
stars.” Tax prep help? Chuck was the one yelling, “I’m not paying those crooks!
I won my case! The judge saw it my way! I made two and a half million, didn’t
pay a dime!” [A photo of the administrator in charge of this NutHouse is
attached]. I owe her a dinner as soon as I prove what the late Diana Ortuno
said was true. [Diana was an administrator at a Lutheran agency].
I may
have finally gotten in touch with some Lindenwood people who might help. “Help”
is a ride to the bank. “Help” is driving your car to get a damn driver’s
license. “Help” is maybe giving someone half my princely pension deposit to
sleep in the basement and temporarily have an address. Most people who have never experienced
housing instability don’t understand how important this is. A Post Office box
won’t do for ObamaCare or a Passport.
Political
liberals always say, in the face of a Reagan or George W. Bush, “I’m moving to
Canada!” Nobody has yet explained my ejection from Canada in 2008 when the
chief border guard said, “Now Mister Hughes, don’t go buying-up Canada.” He was
joking? I think not. Further, my news for frustrated liberals is, they don’t want you up there. My dream
was to go to Mexico, stay in one of Trump’s luxury hotels, and curse his name
all day long.
Good
looking women are not going to be seduced with this line: “Hey baby,
want to see my letters from John McCain?” Why would he be my senate “buddy?” Senator
McCain missed the aircraft carrier deck with two jets that sank. My California
joke was, “Those jets are expensive.” So is the F-35; a big wasteful mess that
should have been cancelled in about 2008. Call “Trent” at McCain’s office.
He’ll remember me, even if nobody in Charlie’s St. Louis does.
Merry
Christmas,
William
C. Hughes
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