Where's THAT Photo? Nazi? Commie? Anarchist?

It is not this photo I owe a nice lady from where? Switzerland! Hubby's from where? Italy! Looks like my 19 year-old fashion model girlfiend is coming this Fall. Stop him! Stop him! Men of LCII, I basically said, "If Berlusconi does it, I can do it too." She agreed, and reported the babes go shopping all day for their fearless leader--at state expense. Did I say I'd economically rescue them? Well, we all know Hughes is "crazy."

Yes, I said I'd show her a Saint Louis photo, but we fell into a "T.O. Time warp," were abducted by an Orange Crush slurping gang of froggy space aliens, and...not really.

Mood disorder? Nope, it's all evil technology--NOT the devil, NOT e.t., NOT the occult, NOT magic. NOT yours; it's all mine. Now, it's:

STORY TIME WITH BORING OLD SUBURBAN HIPPIE BILL:
Bored? It's so bad, I'm perfecting my Jimmy Carter impersonation to scary accuracy. You all heard Dick Nixon behind the Goebel, did you not? Want serious? Want silly? Long I've said, "Y'all don't talk too much." Let's talk about a 911 call if you try to take another pic as I describe a guy I knew only as "The Northrup Man."

Northrup Man walked his mutt about three times a week. He did not, in the Thousand Oaks tradition, "sneak up" on bums at rest. How did the conversation begin? Oh, it's in the soggy journal big bad Sheriff Dean thought he was keeping. He thought wrong. To the best of my recollection, since he was very old, I asked where he had retired from. "Northrup," he said. He got the patented, "I'm William Hughes, call me Bill, and I seem to be Howard's grandson" speech. This quickly got him nicknamed "Diode Man," because both he and I know what that semiconductor is, and does.

No girls should jump or tough guys knock me out over the rest. I say to these wicked domestic terrorists, "I'm allowed to be here. I'm allowed to buy a cup of coffee," etc. With Northrup, it's "I'm allowed to talk about flight control systems on the B-2 Bomber, because my guy designed them." This led to stimulating discussions on what the crpd park is, what the hell the GOEBEL SENIOR ADULT CENTER is, and by God, "we" still don't know. Northrop Man also talked car repair to an associate, and I wondered where mine went. I still do, Jerry Brown. Be that as it may, the culmination of Northup's dog walks made me worry. Oh yes, we talked about how grandpa Howie was not nuts, flew planes, and I don't, etc.

What, Hughes worry? It's another long movie about me moment the director better get right. Nothrup was about to exit around the West End of Goebel, after I'd asked about his gossiping with far younger Defense Industry engineers, and he said, "You're ready, but need...a little more work." I thought, "Dear God, he doesn't mean the president thing." Kooks and "secret agents," I'm now sure he did. This might explain the McDonald's lot you-know-who's providing "security" when I snoozed in Long Beach near the competition's plant gate. Can't see me out there shaking hands? NutCase, be gone!!

The "missing" photo caption from this a.m., Getty Images, AFP, BBC?"

"William Hughes, up and running early in the 2016 presidential field, chats with an LA County Deputy." 

Two LAPD as well? Behind me, positioning phreaks. Right over by the cream & sugar bar, twits. As I joke, "Beavis was not there. Greg the King was absent with leave, and Chris E. was not present," but he'd probably grin at me listening to a German-speaking station in Basel, Switzerland. When they played a Hughes Face Book Friend Jennifer Lopez song, I said, "Something's going on here." Don't ask what.