The Moonbeam Mafia

My favorite Jerry Brown anecdote goes back, predictably enough, to the 1970's, and it is still quite relevant, given the AARP magazine I read today on the real causes of our health care blues was published well before the Democrats passed a new means of bankrupting us--again. The way the story went, someone asked then-gubernatorial candidate Brown what he thought of national health plans. He reportedly said something like, "You want me to pay for all of your smoking, drinking, and red meat eating? Forget it!"

That made sense then, and 30 or so years later, it's still "radical" to focus on a healthy diet instead of pill-pushing. Careful William, because some of Howard Hughes' meticulous instructions on how to prepare food might not be Maf-IA bullfeathers. Nah, "they" never poisoned the man, or me, and Charlie lost a pint of blood through his nose in 1989 because, I suppose, he "shook the wrong hand." 1989 was a very bad year for the Hughes clan, but we shall not digress.

Liberals? Don't need 'em, and I used to be one. Why the classic middle-age defection from muddleheaded Green Party "We hate smokestacks" knee-jerking? Don't know, except to say when I wrote to the Libertarian Party in 2002, they wrote back; an act of bravery considering somebody still wanted to blame me for 9/11. Howard Dean? Never heard back from him, but is the reason you took all of my stuff the computer file of Tom Kean's signature when I sent him a chapter of Gangster Nation? Never mind, but you can be sure Howard Dean's son will never see Area 51, because there's nothing there of any interest to stylish E.T.-chasers up in the Conejo Hills, anyway.

Yes, it seems like another lifetime when I sent faxes at Staples to, among other distinguished officials, California Attorney General Jerry Brown. The surveillance record will show I never got much help, but when the Clayton, Missouri policemen started wearing the wrap-around shades in 2005-2006, the CHP later donned theirs, wearing the grin in Colinga, Los Banos, Crows Landing, and more locations in 2008, even when Hughes was weaving and could not get the tampered-with seat belt to buckle.

Ah, it's all a matter of tools, don't you get it? So, were the intel types frustrated by my on-the-road repair of my seat belt so I did not have to hear SIX ding-dings repeated over and over, thanks to the lunatics at Ford Motor Company? If I buy an economical Mazda 3 someday, "they" will obsess over the "3," so I'd better not. How about a Bentley, with Longhorn horns on the hood?

Again, never mind. Though nearly 2010, we seem to be hurtling along in a mode where many spy, but no one tells Hughes a thing, except when someone actually verbalizes that they used to work for Hughes Aircraft. As some have discovered, I will have a pleasant, rational discussion with you if you talk about topics like the deeefense industry, and not "time travel" psychotherapy, colon hydrotherapy, or aroma therapy, although the surveillance record should show I try not to smell bad as a homeless individual.

All raging spygirls should know those conversations are unlikely to be the last "convo" out here in the Republic of Arnie Pacifica, a very different kind of place than the states I've lived in before, like Missouri, Wisconsin, New York, and New Hampshire. I do not know what is the matter with you people, but as the policeman says when he is lazy, "the investigation is ongoing." Maybe this really is a new covert nation out here, with legal marijuana and a death with "dignity" way for grandma to just turn herself off with the aid of her physician.

I'm calling it WANVORCA, and I think the capital city is Las Vegas. Does the U.N. know about this?

No secrets, please.