Rodentia Giganticus

"Call me any name you want, but don't call me a rodent."

- "VHS/DVD Man"

"Don't stand around out here, they'll follow us for sure."

- T.O. Bus Rider

"I should be dead and long gone because of you."

- T.O. Bus Driver 2

"Good job!"

- T.O. Bus Driver 4

There are spy rodents, and there are super-value sized rodents who stare at me as they drive through the drive-through to load up on fries fried in grease that McDonald's claimed several years back is not so bad for you. Back in 2006, my lovely Obamaland assistant told me of a docu-movie where a guy tried to live on Big Macs and almost died. Not surprising, but Hughes is fair and balanced. For example, a nasty spy handed me a McChicken sandwich about a week ago, and I think that may have meant something to spies. What I noticed was the "Slowest McDonald's in the USA" took a long time to serve-up the sandwich, and when I did not fear another poisoning and ate it, it was pretty good. The seasoning was right, but as with all American fast food, and English fish & chips, it must be hot.

Hot it is in the McDonald's (you all know where it is) though the air temperature may be cold. In fact, all public buildings where Hughes treads tend to keep it verrry cold. I think this is an Arnoldland message about a spy out "in the cold," but I'm not wasting my breath hollering about how I am not a spy--instead, I'm writing-up police reports on crimes committed against me in the State of California, so the spies can go to jail where they belong.

"Move all drug boys out of the prison, and put in the spygirls!" Oh Lord, the media is not ready for this out of a viable third-party candidate. What worries me is, there are so many illegal spies and Maf-IA out here, if I make president some day, I will be forced to build new prisons, and frankly, this would be a waste of money. But, maybe not. Another Hughes slogan? "This is the showdown between spies and the law!" For added effect, I may shout, "This is not Watergate!," "I am not Howard!" or, "I'm running for president, and you can't stop it!"

Why just the other day, I was completing a streetcorner serenade on the president thing, and our CHP boys drove by. Guess what? No yellow card police contact report, no tap on the brake lights to pass "secret code;" why no, they just went North on Highway 23, which might mean something to spies, but not me. Don't I encourage California spies to use their debit card when ordering Chicken McNuggets? Yes I do, because that is, to my limited knowledge, the only Bush spyin' program the judge (Here come da' judge!) let stand. Yep, it's a big data-mining project, kind of like the Glomar Explorer.

Are you all excited about how I'm going to ask the CIA for a copy of the Glomar contract? The last time I filed a FOIA with the Central Intelligence Agency, they said I needed to prove who I am, which did not make sense at the time, but I was a about a year away from nailing the "Howard thing," so I thought they were being jerks. Alas! Maybe not, because AmGen follies may have created many me's, and CIA was looking after the "boss"? Hardly, but I like fairy tales, don't you? Hey Robert Baer, why not write another CIA lie or two for Time before I acquire Time Warner? Are Time Warner and DirecTV trucks really swarming around Hughes? Maybe the drivers know more than the CEO and COO, eh?

Spied-on since childhood, I know there is a special kind of spy I've termed Rodentia Giganticus, and I am going to try and send one to jail. Why, I just saw him this morning in the Goebel Senior Adult Center, carrying a little black plastic bag. (I think this means something to spies). And, I see him at the library, Von's, Ralph's, McDonald's, the Dollar Tree---EVERYWHERE. Lawyer I'm not, but I think this is called STALKING, and it's about time to do something about it, because you cannot do this to Bill Gates, Brad Pitt, or Donald Trump. Oh no, they will put your ass in jail. I believe it was in high school when I coined the expression "The Bill Hughes Exception," and it really holds water, now that I know who I am.

Vermin of this magnitude will never introduce themselves, not even give you a first name, but they will flaunt the fact they are following you everywhere. The behavior that is going to spell "curtains" for this particular rodent is his extremely bad habit of conferring with other spies right in front of me. William Hughes is a tolerant man, and having been spied-upon so much, I generally don't give a f---, but consultation with probable Army Men or Navy Scum bosses must come to mean jail time in the present tense, and if I get there, guess what ? Annapolis, West Point, and the E.T.-chasin' Air Force Academy are closing, as "we" will shut-down their "culture of death" that now has bombs going off in the Pakistani U.N. OFFICE (right after I wrote them a letter), the Pakistani POLICE STATION (as I am writing reports for the T.O. police), and the Pakistani marketplace (when I was run-off from Janss "Marketplace" for no reason, and I am very much aware what the "Fresh Market" was up to. Axel Rose, I encourage you to barbecue some more steaks on the hotel balcony, and make it a Hilton property, will 'ya?

The inevitable "inside joke" among spies is that I probably OWN Janss Mall, but again, fair and balanced analysis finds me admitting to a local spy legend that they had good reason to kick me out of the Panera Bread Company, because I only had enough money for their coffee and was eating all of the samples. "Bread" Company? Saint Louis "Bread" Company? Grandma sure did save those bread ties, don't you all know, and so what? Plus, it is a fact she sent me out for luncheon carry-out at an eating establishment with the same name as a restaurant owned by one HOWARD HUGHES, but that's just a coincidence, right? Hey, may I have some allowance money to hire bodyguards so we can go pull the "secret" marriage certificate? Momma used the word "bastard" often enough, but I think it was a case of artistic license. "They" really did try to burn down the Federal Record Center in Overland, Missouri, and so what? Daddy's file was not burnt, like Frank Zappa's weenie sandwich, I was told, but step-grandpa's I suspect went up in smoke. I guess a "Dark Side" arsonist started the fire at the beginning of the alphabet, right?

NOW HEAR THIS...NOW HEAR THIS...None of the Navy/CIA/HH/Romaine Street/Watergate ancient history has anything to do with me forming a new political party and running for president. As I holler to the Oak trees, "Nobody told me nothin'!,"and this is 100% true. Prove otherwise, and Obama will promote you, an envelope full of Ben Franklin cash will be in your mailbox, or both. I said I wanted my states lime green on the plasma screen television my company withheld from Best Buy for 30 years, and now it's a Southern California fashion statement, but I still don't seem to be on TV with Charlie Rose, or some hair-perfect automaton like him.

Those damn spies; when they are "gone" I'm not supposed to know if they are on another "vacation," gone "missing," or dead. Makes no difference to me. Fish or fowl? Military or civilian? When Hughes yells, "That's a damn .mil spook trying to look CIA!" and he shows-up the next day wearing desert fatigues, we have demonstrated again the boy can't spy, but he sure can catch 'em. GOT LAW? GOT ORDER? Still GOT 50 STATES? No job? At home drinking beer? Don't abuse the kids, GET REAL and listen to Hughes. Here is a preview of how I will tell the throng my "secret" for happiness in the USA.

1. Get a job, and do not spy on your coworkers.

2. Save 5-10% of your income.

3. Put money down on your car.

4. Put money down on your house.

5. Buy a Japanese car (Oh, it might be made in Tennessee at a non-union plant, but "So what?" Right UAW? Right!).

6. Change the oil every 3-5 thousand miles (any brand will do).

This is the "key" to happiness in the U.S. And, I will share this with as many as may assemble when the Obama Administration is "finished" trying to catch me peeing in the bushes, as all homeless persons tend to do, and I get to run for president, like Sarah Palin. When are Ms. Palin and I going out on a date? She's married? Really? Does she still act like it? Sorry, this is now my business.

On an entirely different topic, they'd better not write more laws saying the president cannot give his or her Secret Service drones the slip. Not after what I've been through, and I beg your pardon, for this is an American tradition, as is spies kicking their legs as I type, but I swear, I don't know what it means. Yes, "they" analyzed every word of my seven screenplays, and "they" are following the progress of my #8, d.b.a. Poll Numbers. Why, I do not know. Perhaps they are unemployed, like me, or a defense contractor is leaving them envelopes full of cash under a mailbox, a la Robert Hansen--not for me to know, but the policeman ought to do something about this, don't you agree?

So, "they" all know that in a treatment (Soldier Boy, ask the WGA what a "treatment" is), I called for a scene where El Presidente and First lady pull off wigs & masks in an old pickup truck, complete with loud muffler, and drive off into the District of Columbia night to act like normal people. Think I won't do such a thing someday? Think again.