The two biggest mistakes in my life? It's an interrelated "twofer" of NOT doing something illegal, like sell drugs, plus completing the groundwork for closing-down the FBI by telling them about a drug-related murder. I don't watch TV much, but I thought they were supposed to care. Oh, I get it, not when thirty-seven year old plans to "frame Hughes" are hanging in the balance.
This, as I've unfamously said, "Ain't never gonna work," and now the September 28, 2009 edition of cuckoo-bird Steve Forbes rag told me all about how marijuana is pretty much legal. Okay, then please tell me how I've been tortured by every legal definition over a relatively small quantity of high-quality marijuana hidden in the parents 1970's basement. I've told the surveillance gods, and their humanoid manifestations for years that 1/4 of the "good stuff" was pre-ordered a la Sam's Club, 1/4 constituted the sacred hippie stash that was stretched-out, and 1/2 was smoked-up in Irwin Hall on the Lindenwood College campus in St. Charles, Missouri over one academic year. Did you know a 1970's CIA kid dorm party could consume an ounce of pot in one night? As I holler to no one, "These are the facts!" of national security state blackmail attempts that go down with a mighty THUD.
Ah, but hold on, your name is Hughes, so "secret courts" are activated, and apparently people went there to lie, lie, lie--in 1978, 1981, 1986, 1989, 1991, and WOWIE ZOWIE, the one in 1999 might have been legal, because "they" put me on a boat with real-live terrorists. (Don't try this without professional consultation). Even the federal courts, I've discovered, talk in "code," so when the FBI and Justice Department people apologized for "overreaching" in 1985, they were talking about spying on my spouse and I in 1980-82. Then, "they" went in and got more secret court orders. Why?
Not to worry William, because if I make president, there will be a nice atrium where the DOJ "secret court" used to be, and we can all think about how "secret court" should have been an American oxymoron, but with Jimmy Carter's Navy passing the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) a.k.a. "The Get Bill Hughes Act of 1978," I can read between the lines of an old News Bank article that told me in the first year of FISA there were only two orders, that being, no doubt, for myself and my roommate.
Maplewood, Missouri it was. And, I've learned police agencies have long memories too, regarding how NO DRUGS WERE SOLD on Gayola Place, so when twenty-five years later, the supposedly mentally ill Air Force Girl would not come out and play, as she was reportedly "holed-up" with a weapon, the entire police force came out when I called, and I now realize this was because...well, those military intelligence types will kill you, don't you know? "For Sale" sign on the house a few months later? More military spyin' rodents caught by Hughes.
Yes, the "drug frame" goes back and forth in time, like California loonies think I do. In 1972, the "never famous" soundman was approached at a Great American Rock Band in the Suburban Park event and asked something like, "Do you know where I can get some acid?" The response was, "No, and go away, I'm busy." Yet in totalitarian Amerika, some spy family saw that approach way back then, held the lie close to their vests, and actually think not selling drugs and lies to the contrary mean something in 2009, when this man has been running for president "in the black" for approaching three years now.
Get out of St. Louis? It's advisable when the Army JAG and CIA drug sting house team-up to literally put out the window "frame" in the back yard after the drug selling team has shown Mr. Hughes how today's meth dealer operates without ever talking to them or entering the drug house. As for the female that led that crew repeatedly humping the steering wheel of their van as she passed by, I shall reserve comment except to say I was tempted, but would like to stay alive, if at all possible.
How can "they" keep making up B.S. when I caught the Arizona and Florida 9/11 CIA hijacking helpers? Hey, hey, if we ever do have the High Noon scene, I've got a howitzer to your popgun, so consequently, my EE and Series I bonds seem to be stolen, Treasury Department, and I'm not jumping through more hoops like a damn trained dog. Bank of New York, formerly Mellon? See you in court. I'm "done" playing, but really, I never was. Hey honey, three Directors of National Intelligence must have known about my plight, and if you think there is something wrong with me demanding they land in jail, move to Cuba, or a nation with a name ending in "stan."
How about Presidents of the United States? Are these fellows goin' to jail? As we said in the old neighborhood, "Absolutely!" I smoked marijuana socially over 30 years ago, and you guys killed 3,000 people 8 years ago? I am confident that "moral equation" will someday have me standing behind more microphones than you've ever seen in one place on your flat-screen TV after a big three-way of an electoral, not sexual nature, saying, "Let's break with close election tradition and count all the votes!"
I'm the big "leftist?" Not on immigration, border security, states rights, guns, welfare cheats, or national security. Hello? Verizon, can you hear me now? Navy? Now Navy, are you through pickin' my trash? New slogan? Yes, I agree with the Navy Times letter-writers who thought "A Global Force for Good" is dumb. You sailors remind me of a patient of mine with schizophrenia who would often say, "I think too much." Yet shazam, he had the good sense to repeatedly toss his Goodwill Store special black & white TV in the dumpster until I finally laid down the law and said, "Ronald, we're not buying another one."
I can only conclude sailors are out there wasting diesel fuel with little to do except psychoanalyze the U.S. Navy slogan, so I've got (another) idea. How about a photographic of a spy ship, a couple of destroyers, an aircraft carrier, and a half-dozen or so nuclear subs on the surface. The slogan?
WE'RE HERE---YOU'RE SCREWED.
No comments:
Post a Comment