Bilderbergers, Doodleburgers, and Carl's Jr. $6.00 burgers? Fat & skinny, far left, far right, and the downright "far out," will love HUGHES v. FEDERAL RESERVE BANK, coming soon to a marble-halled "theatre" near you.
Did the skinheaded, African-American man on the bus really say it on Tuesday morning? Yes, he did. In speaking on his modern cell phone, he did say, "I'm with the real one." Yes sir, you were, and now we can ask, "How dumb are my enemies?"
They are so dumb, despite thousands of hours of research library research, 600 pages of paper titled Shame of the Sane, a long list of favorable blurbs, two "near-misses" on pre-9/11 book contracts, and just one FEINSTEIN-BLUM torpedo that kept me a dung-fed mushroom, "they" keep sending the Sheriff in a cop wrapper.
Why? America, do you know the "mental health authority" everywhere in the USA is not at the federal level (no way!), typically not at the state level, nor at the local level. Mental health detention is effected by counties and Sheriff's Deputies. This is why in Ventura County, California the sheriff's deputies ride in local cop cars, and now "we" have discovered they ride on cop motorcycles as well.
Why? The good news is, you cannot handcuff Hughes and put him on the back of the motorcycle, although my buddies at GETTY IMAGES would treasure that "shot." I think sending the motorcycle yesterday was someone's way of saying, "You are barking up the wrong old HH tree." In fact, after assessing for danger since the dogs were nipping at this schoolboy's heels in 1962, and doing it as a mental health advocate/clinician 1991-2010, I am a pretty good reader of "body language." How many Carson jokes started out with, "It's so bad/hot/cold.....?" It has gotten so bad in Austria-Hung...I mean, California, the last deputy dawg who did not even bother to call the "Great Cop Computer in the Sky," in my judgment was saying, to wit:
"Hughes, why don't you hurry-up, get your MO mitts on that big money, and get your butt out of town."
To divert briefly (screech...click, click...uh, Houston, Lockheed only gave me three engines, and are you copying that only one of the f---ing things is functioning at the moment?).....no, not that kind of diversion, spyin' jackasses. I'm going straight to Mars. Anyway, I wrote another letter that involves HH, meaning Hughes--Hilton. I am not worthy of what you are thinking, but this seems to throw a scare into them.
And, the truth is, if I ever get elected president, and Paris, France would be so kind as to keep bailing water on our sinking ship of state, as they have done previously in our relatively short history as a nation, plus Paris Hilton stopped by the White House, even once or twice, it would create such a diversion, I might actually get some work done.
Meantime, I keep comparing peace officer uniforms, and been thoroughly bedazzled by locals who say, "Oh sure, we've got fake cops." And, upon becoming envious of the apparent arousal of what I'm calling "The MO-MO Monster," stalkers and snitches are quite readily unmasked by local spoiled youth, who have told me point-blank, "Oh yeah, they're cops."
Really? Investigating what? Writing? Eating Orville Reddenbacker's popcorn? Using the USPS mailbox? Participating in that blogging sensation? Oh baby, now they are panicking for real, because guess what? One of my own companies took the bait and wrote back sounding clueless. And, there is more; are you all sitting down? Just like Howard, guess who did some "research" on HUGHES CHRISTENSEN products, and very quickly thought of an improvement on.....what?.....what? Great-grandpa's oil-drilling bit?
Five...four...three...two..........
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