Slitting the Finkel Dingelaker

If this blog really goes anywhere, I'd like the American people to know that as the not-so-secret grandson of Howard Hughes, I have lived half of my life in "psy-op," which typically includes every intel community attempt to make it seem like some sort of war, insurrection, revolution, or coup is in the horizon. (I arrive at the half of my adult life stat by taking the length of the psy-ops and an equal amount of time for recovery). The illegal spooks are really pulling out all of the stops lately, because as I said on the .net months ago, we are metaphorically fighting on the bank steps over trillions. These people are so dirty, I'm about to call for a new OPEC oil embargo, because $9.99 for a gallon of 87 octane will build more windmills than any damn "carbon trading" scheme.

I am presently sitting before a public computer in a public place--just another homeless chump in search of heat, light, and a place to change the world. A few months ago, it was a Barack Obama look-alike going in & out the drive-through at McDonald's in a gold SUV. Flaw? He sure looked the part, but was (ha, ha) a bit too light skinned. Those dum-dums even went to such detail as to have the SUV slow down on southbound Moorpark and be joined by a configuration of vehicles just like the Bushman used when Hughes inspected the empty highway corridor before the King came. Do "they" let you do that? No, they don't. In Thousand Oaks, they formed a little motorcade and went really slow like the President of the United States just had a Big Mac attack with Hughes smoking out front. California morons soon swarmed-in to order a batch of Chicken McNuggets, and let me tell you Arnold, I'll be out here 80 years old with a tiny little backpack I call the "hitman model," then all 1947 National Security Act farts will be long dead.

Slits. Open utility boxes. Open diaper changing stations. Open sprinkler valves. Open electrical panels. Open trash dumpsters. On the latter, have evil Thousand Oaks "city fathers" considered a young child might climb in the unlocked trash dumpster area and die. Don't blame me for that, or your absurd coup-plotting and assassination cabals. What does the "black hole cunt" want? M-O-N-E-Y, and if you think I thought the video on WPTV-Ft. Lauderdale of Biden's plane and her coming down behind Joe was real, I've got a new political party for you called People for the Real Deal.

I'm sick of this crap, and you could not do it in Syria, North Korea, or Libya, but you are all bloodthirsty whores and do it to me here in the good old USA. Look-up's on Soldier Boy's Internet told me the host of Biden's 10.29.09 "luncheon" (spy code word) made his money from real estate. How's that audio holding up from about 1995 of me telling the big spy cunt to take the exam for a real estate license and "get real." No, no, no, the CIA "fake marriage" hubby got kicked out in favor of Ziad Jarrah, who had just hit town in Brooklyn. By the way, I think he is (gasp) a "good guy" and still, as Navy grandma would say, "Out there running around."

I loved the lit ambulances in Angela (first name of my last W-2/W-4 boss) Sachitano's (SAC-hit-A-no's) Ft. Lauderdale report, and I can't wait for the spy "cover story" on a "fundraiser" when there's no election in the offing. Ambulances? I've seen my share of presidents and wannabees close-up and I ain't never seen no ambulances. Is somebody getting shot, Pamela? How did you like my 1981 U. of Wisconsin paper on how maybe we should get a little more parliamentary when butt-ugly governance turns into double butt-ugly black juju. Impeachment is awfully slow when they've taken your job and your house, but one aide was correct when he suggested maybe it's better I'm homeless right now. Whatever you say, as long as I can hold off the tree rats and the CHP continues to chase off bad guys.

I simply can't keep up with this kind of video garbage, where I'm so important they were pointing the video camera through a chain link fence at the vice president just like my unfamous photo of the family jet I didn't know I had. And, why didn't I take a photo of my restored Gulfstream when it was sitting right in front of me in New Hampshire? Blame it on "shock," I guess, but now, those plausibly deniable asses are in trouble, right boys? Why should I worry about such a ship of fools? No cash is ever going in the "slit," and momma warned of it with one sentence: "Stop the world, I want to get off." Zzzzzzzz...excuse me, psy-op also involves sleep deprivation, but I'm doing okay on that when I'm not suffering from homeless hypothermia. Does Joe Biden know Tony Blair, back when Hughes was a news hawk, slid off the runway in Ft. Lauderdale flying commercial on American as PM. Sneaky, sneaky, Tony, but I caught 'ya.

Aaargh! Go ahead and overfly enemy metropolises, but don't drop any bombs, please. Today, an old spooky one stopped by to say, "Just get home, and you'll get it." Get what? This gov'ment is so nuts I'm afraid they'll give me a three-day weekend to rest up from three years, three months of torture after the dirt dumps on the president and Biden, then they'll try and Gerald Ford 2.0 me.

Just remember, the California official state word is "No."