"Word up" at the Missouri Department of Mental Health: "There are too many pending search requests, so the search appliance cannot respond to your query at this time. Please try again in a few minutes." What was that grandpa Howard said about running for president? "Sorry, I don't have time." Did Governor JAY NIXON (D) have time to meet with his lawyers today? I do not wager, but I bet he did.
Howard created the HHMI (Howard Hughes Medical Institute), I have no doubt, to cure diseases. And, it was a masterstroke "dodge" for a guy who hated paying taxes as well. Howard Hughes did not want another "charity care" hospital e.g. Shriner's, Danny Thomas' St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, etc. He wanted, as do I, to see the medical problem fixed.
So, spies & soldiers, how did the quest for cures turn into this? FELIX PAPALLARDI, dead from a "rare blood disease." TOMMY BOLIN, dead from a "rare blood disease." RORY GALLAGHER, dead from a "rare blood disease." Rock & rollers, we now go to dog walker, dog breeder, and red-haired dog show attendee aunt DORIS HEARING, dead from a "rare blood disease." Are we going to court yet? If not, I promise it will not be over having to pee so bad, I tinkle on a Peace Officer's leg.
Don't you hate spies? I do, so as the Manchurian and possibly brain-hijacked Egypt Air pilot said as he nose-dived an airliner full of people into the ocean, "Pull with me," because I am going to disclose my conversations with Aunt Doris. Doris did not like MISSOURI BAPTIST HOSPITAL much, and neither did I when my grandmother, yeah that grandmother, was lying in a hospital sounding like she was going to die, and no one seemed to care. She didn't die, and was not a "vampire." How am I sure? We gathered, as many families do, to, if you will pardon the expression, turn-off grandma.
This was accomplished at ST. JOSEPH'S HOSPITAL in Kirkwood, Missouri; a far nicer little hospital. Back to Aunt Doris, she made the switch to ST. JOHN'S MERCY HOSPITAL, a place where I was born at the St. Louis City location, and we are not talking today about the St. John's colonoscopy drama that was so bad, I said, in 2004, "The next one is at WALTER REED." America and U.K., this was definitely a case of, "Be careful what you joke about." As an admitted cheap shot, I feel compelled to note that St. Louis is a racist little burg, where inevitably they build a new hospital as far west as they can afford the land. Best remark about a town where Homer G. Phillips (city) Hospital was a temporary solution to blacks in the basement ward? Regarding mighty BARNES JEWISH HOSPITAL, a black man once bitterly told me, "I wouldn't take a dog to that place."
Yes, BJC, I have to agree, and don't dare backtalk Hughes, because I was on your payroll after a genius named AL GORE invented "privatization." Didn't he invent the Internet, too? Never mind. At the "new" St. John's, Doris had her platelets replenished regularly. Dying slowly and horribly, she called me--a lot. Do you California morons know, because I am a Royal, I am Howard Hughes' grandson, I am the oil, I am the money, I am daddy Warbucks, and I just know things, I knew in real-time what Doris was saying between the lines. It was: "Bill, they are killing me slowly."
Yes, Vandenberg cuckoos, I knew this, and doesn't the Nazi-managed NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY treasure those recordings? They do, and if I make POTUS, don't you want to see me standing next to the Lincoln Navigator (no more limo) at the NSA gate when they pretend to not let me in? The video will be cherished until the end of time as I calmly look at the Secret Service guy (or gal) nearby, and say, "Toss me a weapon." Bush, you should not have waved an Uzi in my face during 1986, because I will surely open-up with one as Commander in Chief on the NSA if they won't do what I order.
Don't you think they will back down? After the little Nazi guard shack is full of holes, that is? Well kids, it's future that might not happen, so let's agree to not worry about a "potential" President Hughes today. Agreed? Alrighty; so given I knew what was going on with Aunt Doris, I thought, "Thanks for sticking up for me in 1989, but it didn't do any good, and now you're dying." I can't write any more without getting into trouble, because the rodents who think I'm fixin' to overthrow the United States Government don't always take their medication.
The good news is, this is a "cop show," not a spy novel. The bad news is, we are apparently only in Act III of a four act hour long drama. So, Mr. Director who is not me, let's go to commercial and sell some soap, because I got to defecate indoors today, I've got Dollar Tree corn chips & salsa ($2.00), it's sunny in CA again, and like millions of Americans, "they" might let me stay alive to say (maybe with a big audience), "Obama's gotta go, gotta go."
And, just who are "they?" Oh neighborhood crowd, didn't I say it in 1971, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979, etc. etc. etc.? "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
Cosmic! (but not really, 'ya dummy, it's merely "Mr. Green Genes")