The Scintillating CENTCOM Girl

What's that purple on the screen? Listening to the NSA's Hughes-Finkel Greatest Hits? Nothing better to do? I thought so.

Let's count the times I civilly detained a mentally disordered individual without a face-to-face interview, shall we? CASE #1 had been in the hospital many times, and the affiants were saying, "We'll all get killed if you come to the door." CASE #2 led to a long, bitter lawsuit that wasn't what it looked like on the surface. CASE #3 produced no repercussions, but the lady with a "beef" about her brother worked for the North America protectin' Soldier Boys at CENTCOM.

This was what we called, in the 1970's, "a trip" when Hughes--yeah, that Hughes, called the big Florida Batcave and a guy on the other end said stuff like, "Division two-two-five, Alpha, Zulu, Clang-Clang, vector Seven...Lieutenant Smith speaking." And, I would say, "Uh, is KATY SCINTILLATING in?" (Names have been changed to comply with a federal law named HIPAA, and to keep certain people alive, but not really).

Now fellahs, I don't know what you thought, but what I thought in real-time was, "Who is recording this call?" And, I here allege it was not for, "Better customer service." As JOE FRIDAY would say, "Just the facts, ma'am." Alright, it was a case of a brother getting that Dolly Parton d-i-v-o-r-c-e, but I now realize, since all involved were spyin', they were not really getting divorced. Yet, as the story went, the male of the species was "Bipolar," not taking his meds, and terrorizing his poor wife & kids, who very conveniently were renting a house down the block.

Folks, if this case already seems suspicious, "WILLIAM the V, Civil Investigator" thought so, too. It was a classic "He won't come out of the house" case, and on three trips to knock on the door, there was no answer. Danger? Not enough to make like Thousand Oaks, CA and "Call the cops, call the cops" (Webster Groves, Missouri cops, in this instance). Yet the female spousal unit had tales of terror down the block, to which I said, more than once, "Why don't you call the police when his behavior is like that?" e.g. drunk, loud, demanding money, etc.

Affidavits for civil procedure? In this case, like pulling teeth. She would not come to my office, and when she finally did, I was not there. That refers to the wife, not the CENTCOM girl. Katy the CENTCOM girl lived in my office, writing turgid, multi-page affidavits based entirely on hearsay, which I dutifully notarized, because I wasn't always homeless and running for president out of a Ralph's cart. Where's my notary stamp? Never mind.

See the problem here, Cheap-o CIA psychologists and O-BAM-A torture specialists? The CENTCOM girl was very, very worried about her brother, and commuting regularly from Florida. The wife was playing a "game," whereby she whined about her safety, but just could not bring herself to call those three magic digits: 9-1-1, when the guy was getting bellicose. No, better to take a pharmaceutical drug of your choice, and call Mr. Hughes in the morning.

Right "set up specialists"? Right! What now (07.06.10) makes me even more suspicious about this one? I went to the "tie-breakers," namely 18 & 19 year-old kids who lived at home. They saw it CENTCOM's way, not in accord with mom's Borderline Personality Disorder, so I filed in the Missouri Circuit Court, the guy was hospitalized, and to my surprise, not kept beyond the initial 96 hours (72 in California, and don't I want to put you all away, but they tell me it was PETE WILSON, not Reagan, who who closed all of the California cuckoo bins).

What does that mean? (And I knew it in real-time). Somebody wanted to file a lawsuit against Hughes and get that AIG million bucks worth of liability insurance, or was it two million? Four million aggregate? I forgot, with many more things on my mind these days, like kicking some butt in the House of Commons. How am I so sure I'm right? Never heard another peep from Katy the CENTCOM girl, the wife, the kids, the hospital, the outpatient mental health center--not one more word about that particular drunk, spouse-abusing, won't come out of the house Bipolar guy, of which there are many running loose in California.

Yet, not so fast. Did I know the inpatient ward social worker? Of course! And, over coffee, the one-word diagnosis was: ASSHOLE. I've cracked that code, spies, and it means KILLER. Yes, I dodged another bullet there, and my "reward" from the WEBSTER GROVES POLICE DEPARTMENT was to be watched--a lot--but given I am "fair & balanced," it should be noted the cops did purchase a Tall, Grande, or Venti when I was about to be murdered in the Starbucks near Webster College. (Who was the middle-aged ass reading a book there? A young twit of a spy once asked him, "How is this going to turn out?" Hey, Mr. President, that was in 2006, and I'm a little fed-up with this crap, sir).

Yes, I should have talked to the incrediburgherible blond Barista that another blond spyin' girl advised on thusly: "Bill, she's older than she looks." My lingering suspicion? The infamous Florissant, MO "9/11 'a comin' case" also involved going to barely adult kids for affidavits as the "tipping point" when way deep in spy couple "he said-she said" drama. I never laid eyes on the wife in this one, because don't you know she would have been seductive, and then...KNOCK--KNOCK--KNOCK, here comes the killer husband, who would have suddenly liked her much more. After all, she had a job, and the guy/deadbeat did not.

Money? Did you say money? The wife would not open that purse, but I suspect parts of her body were still being spread wide. [DIANE MCFARLAND, TERRI GILBERT, & LINDA QUAN...are they in jail yet? And, how could I overlook MARY LOIS LACEY? Not yet?]

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