Night Court

You can’t script a movie better than this:

“Joe’s truck, I presume.”

“Where’d you get the bike?”

“Someone left it here.”

GOT A BIRTH RECORD?

Clinton's guy retired.
Now, it's Trump's guy.
REPEAT AFTER ME:
"What is he talking about?"

"My plans now include going to see New Hampshire Secretary of State Bill Gardner later this year to either embarrass Trump of kick Bernie’s ass badly. You could help with this if not in a correctional facility. It was June of 2008 when Gardner said 'Good luck' with heading to California, and most of the shameful crap after that I blame squarely on Barack Obama. Where is he from? Even Donald J. Trump gave up on figuring that out!"

"Let's go to Starbucks for a Brain Scan"

"Here is the theory no Regional Manager wants to hear. My maternal grandmother died in 1971, and I here allege she was the only person who gave a shit about me, much like Howard Hughes, Jr. and Annette. This is also the same year a corporate history for STARBUCKS begins in Seattle. That may be, but I am alleging it was funded with 'black money' by a certain family I will here call 'Scully' as a nod to the X-File fans who follow me around like the kooks they are."

BREAD Co.

Kerry O. is also quick with the big retraction.
Pan_era was sold for more meth money?
I would not know.
Ask Beth.

Brian, she is an actress accustomed to sleeping with rich guys, and I just discovered a Walgreens clerk screwed me out of $8.38, because I AM THE MONEY and I am very good with keeping track of money. May I quote Jeff Yates, a Cornell-trained engineer? He once said:

"Just have your buddy pick up the phone, call a cab, and reserve a room."

On the "torture lot" in Thousand Oaks I said, "I don't have a buddy."

STUCK: No star, no bucks

Management team sleeping in the Seattle rain yet?

02.19.2019

Ms. Fink –

Today at the library, I was allowed to, as daddy used to say, “scan” Fortune, The Economist, The American Prospect, The Nation, and The New Republic.

Entirely consistent with this, I continue to bash blacks and Jews as if on board with the worst of the nativist, gun toting, rabid Trump supporters.

“Keep ‘em guessing” said momma, who I’ve told you had no “Manic Depression.” It was too many cigarettes and cups of coffee, plus Charlie could be really annoying with his Shakespearean cheapness.

Cough-cough---go to jail.

Bill

>After I decided not to kill someone and later be acquitted, I took a look at Aviation Week and Air & Space. The latter is still searching for E.T. whereas I want my souvenir Pan Am bag (March, 2019 p. 34). 

Best in the West

Back to this Best Western?
I would be nuts if I did that.

This one is so “Hard to get” I have failed to seduce her into your Loop store twice.  Meanwhile, I await a call from the younger one who is, “Hard to handle.” The latter once brought me a large coffee from Saint Louis Bread Company. You should know a Hughes trait is to be “tenacious.” This has been over the size of a U.S. Navy boat, an oil bit, and who stole RKO’s screenplay.  It’s also in progress over getting my first damn dollar. Only I have to threaten stirring-up a nuclear war to maybe receive my inheritance. It’s so large, many thought they could keep what they took, be it billions or a backpack.

 

Sal's Army

02-16-2019

Mr. Curnow:

I am not an attorney like everyone else named “Hughes,” but suddenly I think the “temple” next door to the west from your 10740 Page Avenue was there before yours opened in 1975. If the two have been collaborating on some of the unlawful activities I have observed, this is worse than I think. The temple is called the “Overland Occidental Masonic Lodge.” Their phone number is disconnected? If I were a government employee at any level I’d ask, “When did that happen?”

I happened to notice one day early in my detention there that the building was used for some type of meeting because he parking lot was full. Most of the time, it looks abandoned. As a man related to the oil money without question I joke around using the expression, “Masons and Mormons” for cult-like organizations, which flourish in the United States when I think they are often up to no good and are very difficult to penetrate if someone is “spying” on them, lawfully or not.

10770 Page Avenue is the address, and I further think that if the Salvation Army has hackers, a recent hack of my android and the e-mail to you may have been engineered by the Masons. I don’t think much of them and I am allowed to research this old cult on the Internet. If they are somehow directing the disappearance or murder of shelter residents next door, the joke is: “I’m not Wesley Bell; I’m not even the same color.” 

Thanks,

William C. Hughes

More Cops on Dope

The Rabbi won't help and neither would she.
"Missed her by that much," in ATLANTA.

02/06/2019

Dear Officer Hind Legget:

Now that we have established I am not “mental” under the statute (RSMO 632) I worked with as basically a “Mental Health Cop” and extension of the Circuit Courts, I am not fussing with the Windows 7 search box. This feature does not work like “friend of the writer” Vista XP that finds everything via a search term. What I want to find NOW can’t be found due nutty Artificial Intelligence (AI) programming put on the laptop you saw yesterday. True it is that the Compaq’s old White House role was to shoot missiles off drones at alleged bad guys. I don’t think all of them were that bad, which explains a woman I am sure was a former Iranian president’s daughter giving me a New York film school hat in Los Angeles.

The hat was stolen in Los Angles last year like all of my screenplays from the first damn keystroke. The fake Secret Service present when the hat was gifted in 2013? As I often say, “Arrests, please.” What does this have to do with Clayton? Here is the account of my 2014 drugging at the Starbucks where you dropped by. The furniture is arranged differently, and after reporting this IN WRITING to the manager and calling the Starbucks 800 twice, I gave them a deadline to call about forking over some MONEY out of court.

Meanwhile, I seem to be unwelcome at the courthouse down the street where a spooky janitor once said, “Hurry up and wait.” Baker Hughes and the Hughes Medical Institute were not on my mind back then, my Clayton neighbors were. One worked at a “secret” prison in Afghanistan, and on the other side I chatted with the U.S. Air Force man. “Car talk” it was amid spying, illegal break-in’s, and constant attempts on my life. Perhaps you’d like to pull my letter to Chief Byrne, which I am sure made perfect sense, as did the licensed, bonded, locksmith who confirmed the illegal entries and—ha ha!—was hired again in 2016 at the Nagel “Drug House.”

The “trouble” at this Starbucks began with an allegation from a heavy set white female who looked like a St. Charles housewife who accused me of being a “bum” and wanting a refill price without paying the larger cost first. Thus began my practice of saving Starbucks receipts. At the time I was paying $350 to a slum lord mobster for rent, and thus had a City of St. Louis address I’d like to forget. I was told “Sign the lease or else” by a supposed “friend.” This still strikes me as ILLEGAL, as with when he stole a copy of my book on national security. Want to know what the men from every defense company in USA said outside LA? Sorry, some of it was and is secret.

On the “drugging day” I guess to be mid-December, 2014 I did not see the usual “Man on the Apple computer” and don’t ask me what he is always doing in addition to staring at me. Nor was my old coworker LAURA CROSS eating a frosty Starbucks treat on the south side of the store while staring at a man on the north side. Laura was from Texas, I was told at BJC Behavioral Health. She married a black man also from Texas and went home. What was she doing in the 2 N. Central Starbucks? Unknown.

The drugged coffee came from a Verona pot and was served by a short white female with shaggy dishwater blond hair. I usually go for the dark roast, but it was maybe a third cup, so I asked for the lighter blend. It tasted odd, and as has happened too many times, thank God I did not drink the entire cup.

Previously, I had been bold enough to introduce myself to a presumed Disney executive who was conducting a meeting with two other people about the fate of one of their radio stations. Anyone I’ve ever known can tell you I am not a “ladies man,” but this one with dark hair and two-tone leather pants was irresistible. I got a firm handshake and an amusing, “Where am I?” from her. I said, “You are in Clayton, Missouri. I used to live here.”

Later, she walked past and declared, “You will be knocked out!” This was back when punks were punching each other in the U. City Loop as some sort of “game,” and that is what I thought she had joked about. What happened was I awoke the next day unable to move for about 45 minutes. I remained calm and eventually pulled myself up off the 216 Nagel floor. THAT is what she had referred to—a timed release tranquilizer of some kind would be my guess, and more of it would have killed me, I am sure. I HAVE NO REMOTELY SIMILAR MEDICAL PROBLEM, be it documented or not.

A few days later as an alleged “friend” transported me to a CRICKET store on South Grand, I saw this woman again jogging north on the west side of the street. She looked at me on the passenger side of the SUV as we passed to communicate, “You are in deep doo doo.” This day’s attire was red shorts and the mandatory dark sunglasses. I am sure it was the same person. I took that as a warning, and what has happened since? Down to the gutter and a homeless shelter where half of the “residents” could not name the current Vice President. Yes, the man I e-mail worked for Joe Biden, so never say I don’t look for work. I said, “Get me some bifocals, and I’d put the hair in a ponytail” as WHITE HOUSE PRESS SECRETARY. I can’t do the job? I can’t get an e-mail out most days, I’ve been so attacked electronically and threatened physically. The expression is, “I’m gonna beat your ass” and the other is, “I’m gonna bust your head.” My, it would be nice to have some NAMES for those bastards.

Thanks,

William Charles Hughes

>>AGAIN, before I could get this e-mail out, early this morning [02/06/19] someone said, “I’m goin’ to knock the shit out of him.” On the other side of Anarchy Avenue, I am allowed to call my former employer and say, “How can I get this big fat predatory queer to Farmington where he belongs?” I know a psychiatrist there who will be happy to “help” him.