Police State = Impotent Police

"Who runs this nation? Civilians!" Sorry, Maf-IA lawyers and E.T.-Chasers, answering my own question does not make me "crazy." Nudging the Hughes boy into a mental health profession was sheer brilliance, maybe instigated from a dark alley in Warsaw, or foggy boulevard in Prague. That has allowed all manner of psychobabbling trash talk to roll off the duck's back. And, unlike Ronnie in 1981, this guy's prepared to duck.

"You're all crazy and I'm not!"is another battle cry, because certainly by the roll-out of the DSM-IV in 1994, mental health had gone to a near total behavioral scheme for sorting out the ones who are locked-up, and as Navy grandma would say, the distressing number still "out there running around."

Schizophrenia
Bipolar Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Today's mobster doesn't even know what these illnesses are. However, just like the ever-popular political "ist" words, they are easy to toss around, are they not? Has Senator McCain's medication been adjusted satisfactorily? I sure hope so. Ah, the compartmentalization of intelligence. Do all of you yahoos out there know Frederick Godwin & Kay Jamison had already let me know there's nothing wrong with me by the end of 1991?

On a related topic, how is it so many European financial institutions have a "91" in their phone and fax numbers. Just "coincidence?" I suppose, or maybe that's when the FOURTH Great Train Robbery occurred and once more the loot was kept from poor William. Previously, 1972 produced the "Adios" from Hughes Aircraft Company, 1979 got me out of the hometown, where there is at least one beer-bellied Hoosier on the South Side who does not know I'm Howard's grandson. Had I stayed, to paraphrase the pothead son of a St. Louis criminal prosecutor, remarking on John Dean, the beans would have been spilled.

For the third stickup, we go real-life spy novel during 1985-86, when bad A-rabs wanted the Jewgirl and Papal Boy bumped-off. It was also a time, regarding that gal's friend, I mused to myself, "If she's a Soviet spy, so what? That has nothing to do with me." Those were the days, when I only thought about the Federal Reserve and not the European Central Bank as well. ECB let the Fed squirm a bit over all of the funky chicken mortgages? Gosh, I'm so glad I worked in banks, and passed my two semester U. of Wisconsin Macroeconomics class. On the latter point, I remember well how the Teaching Assistants surrounded me. I said, "Charts, graphs, formulas, and algebraic type things. Fellahs, I don't think I can pass this class." No way out of that jam, as they said in unison, "Hughes, you WILL pass this class." A slew of "B's" later, I still like that Keynesian remark about how, "In the long run we're all dead."

I guess that makes me a liberal, but look who's giving out free medicine to the unemployed--Pfizer. You never know what those fat corporate Baby Boomers will do next. How about some big-shots tell the policeman to recover all of my stolen stuff? Hasn't happened yet, so lately I alternate between mild-mannered Socratic method and claiming "Hughes is asking the questions around here." One politico irony I'm ever more curious about is how law enforcement agencies can be so seemingly powerless in "The Homeland." Big CIA station in Kabul? The digital archive in the sky must surely know this man said repeatedly in 2002 you need 200,000 or so soldier boys to keep the Taliban at bay, but maybe lots of CIA boys and girls with expensive taste can secure a few square blocks in the Afghan capital for the war lords & drug lord's political bedfellows.

Family expressions. I got a trillion of them, and one was, "Lie down with dogs, and you get up with fleas." When did McGruff the Crime Dog get CIA fleas? I said 1981, with Executive Order 12333 in my book, and next thing I knew, I've got a disappeared M.D. in Thousand Oaks who I was all revved-up to tell why I've got NO GLASSES, NO OFFICE SUPPLIES, NO MR. COFFEE, NO CLOTHES, NO CAR, NO 1400 LP'S, NO 600 CD'S, NO ROOM FULL OF BOOKS ON POLITICS AND BEHAVIORAL HEALTH.

But, the Old Watergate Spooks provide, as with a copy of David Ogelvy's Confessions of an Advertising Man, which I am reading to devise better attack ads upon Republican and Democrats. Third party? Really, it was the sixty-something-ish political party in the USA, but what my ex and I called the "omnipresent they" sure took it seriously, if only "in the black." All I can say to old-school Nazis and liberal fascists is, they sure liked me in Maine, and failed to kill me outside Kennebunkport, so given dues paid in New Hampshire, the strategy will be to march from Bangor down the Atlantic Coast until reaching Florida, because I believe it was December, 2000 when the big CIA girl who is even worse than all that asked me, "Don't you know ALL of our elections in Florida are rigged?"

As Carson often said, "I did not know that," but once so informed, it was a natural progression to demanding presidents land in jail. This is not Howard out here homeless, and this is not Watergate. It is worse. Far worse, with nary a clean cop in sight. So far, anyway.