I don't seem to be in a booth reviewing archived video with a little read-out counting down tenth of seconds, but "we" have some questions, like where did the cop go? This is an old question. And, now that I've finally found a pic with John Hinckley in it, I have to wonder why this also ties-in with the previously noted "NBC Umbrella," and very colorful it was. Does anyone wonder, as do I, why the about to tape assassination video crew is apparently posing like smirking idiots right before the shooting starts? And, don't I love oil boy Hinkley's pudgy face over the NBC guy's right shoulder? Sir, what's in your Navy blue jacket? Slightly over 30 years later, Hughes wants to know. What's my joke, Letterman? "GE, we bring good things to death." 
NO COMMENTOh, the stories I have for sale, and you're getting them for free? I must be "nuts." Let's go back, back in time, to the Summer of 2008 and the not so nice VICTORIA HOTEL, right off the 101. Mobsters having sex downstairs? As Dr. Schwarz would say, kind of "Speedy Gonzales," right girls? At least that kept them occupied. Local thugboys signaled, "Though your dong be long, you'd better get out of here!" Yes, sir, but who did I see at checkout time? A big, vile drug spy with a young guy I thought might be my own son, because once upon a time I was stupid enough to believe Amazon Girl stories about birth control methods. In that era, AIDS was for Africa, not Upstate New York.
One Hep C scare later, and it was thoroughly rational to wonder after the 06/2007 HH revelation, if "they" might try to steal a baby off me. Would they? There in the lot of the V-Hotel was a guy who looked like a plausible "lost" son. He was with a person the Concord, New Hampshire police spokesperson called, "The Wicked Witch of the West." I cursed. I complained to my BUTA'ed Ford Focus. I retreated to a Ralph's parking lot, and there I just about cried, because it's not nice to steal babies from trillionaires. This isn't a Lindbergh case, however, so simple reasoning told me, if the kid had my DNA, I'd be dead.
mafia! mafia! So, imagine my surprise when, and a double-whammy it was, I saw a photo of Conrad Hughes Hilton. "E gads, lovie, somebody from that family took my last name as a middle name?" Shazam! Don't we all love that Soldier Boy's Internet, because Mr. Hilton was the young guy in the Victoria Hotel lot with my wicked witch. Yes, "Charlie knew places, William knows faces." Did I not promptly send a letter to the great Paris Hilton, warning of drug entrapment schemes, spy whores, and so forth? Yes, I did. And, how the hell could I have later discovered putting the wrong Zip Code on the letter when it was 90210? Never mind the mind control, it likely got there anyway, to allege I'm a kook, a stalker, I hate capitalism like Howard did, etc.
The next one was addressed correctly, but the Hiltons apparently got rid of thier palatial HQ. What did I say? Oh, I've got a neo-Nazi, new world disorder detested photocopy somewhere. And, an accessible fact is, I like Holiday Inn Express, so when I read mean old Conrad had disinherited Paris, I figured I'd buy Intercontinental Hotels someday and give it to the Hilton girls, so they would have something productive to do with their lives. The "catch?" A Hughes "Spy-Free Guarantee." Catch any hotel staff spying, and your stay is on the house.
Reluctantly, I'll admit Paris & Nicky can probably catch them, too. I'm not the only spycatcher out here, but I'm the only one with a Conrad spelled Konrad in Zurich, Switzerland lying his Germanic ass off, to wit: "Vee vill conduct zee investigation, but vee must follow zee rules." That was two years ago, Konrad. Rules? This is all "Dark Side" stuff, right? No? May I have control of my "Grav Wave Cannon" that hit my later wrecked by Russians car after I exited the concentric circles of spies, drug thugs, and soldier boys hard at work in attempting to "get" the Hughes & Hilton clans.
Don't think so, you morons.
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