Dear Sheriff:

I swore I was not entering the Go Bell Computer Lab until sundown, but when yet another person who is not going to help in any meaningful way said, "Good luck," I figured I'd better fight back the only way available at the present time. My blogs are going to split in three, and this time I shall try to stick to it. This is the humor blog, the Word Press blog is going to "morph" into "beyond Coast to Coast A.M." strange, and a new Google blog is only to be used for serious, I'm really, really running for president blogging.

What happened in Iowa last time? 1) A big, white, unmarked bus was in front of my Motel 6, much like Lohan's Herbie trucks making me late for work at CHESTNUT HEALTH SYSTEMS in Granite City, Illinois, where "they" do not want me in the policeman's very public records <ahem, ahem> because I can toss you in jail, whereas I've done nothing "jail-worthy," try as all of VC County's scumbucket fake homeless may, every day; 2) At the Iowa Secretary of State's office, there was talk of "papers" and civil commitment, as I asked for info on the caucus process and got precious little; 3) I was chased down side streets, just like in a spy movie; 4) Barack Obama's negroes came pouring out of the Des Moines Obama for President office, and I wondered, "How do they know I'm here?" as they talked on their inevitable cell phones in the parking lot; 5) Three Verizon trucks drove by at the appointed time for my assassination that did not occur, as I browsed at ALDI'S, the 'po folks grocery store; 6) Mean-looking bikers pulled out and drove their Harleys in front of me, as I again wondered, "Do they know who I am, too? How do they know that?"; 7) During a rather obvious "diversion" at the Motel 6 front desk, I thought, "Somebody's going to steal something," but too late! There went a car bearing TEXAS plates with a set of "People for the Real Deal" FEC papers, and don't y'all know I put them out as "bait?" Itty-bitty cameras in there? "They'll leave the video on for 'ya," right, "Tom Bodine?" Sure they will, and be glad if at their newer properties, they don't poison the tap water.

Oh, my! New Hampshire was a whole other story, and now, it's such fun spending time with mafia(s) and every Hispanic & Asian in the Republic of California, but we don't talk too much, in keeping with local organized crime tradition. Yes, tense it is in the Computer Lab today, as I shocked "The Borg" by daring to listen to an entire Baker Hughes (BHI) replay of their conference call board meeting this morning. Of the callers on the air at B-H (Is my name Bill Hughes? It is, and "No," you cannot see the MO I.D. any more), I judge Mr. "David Anderson" of J.P. Morgan as the only real person, meaning no alias or "spy message" fake name.

Always an "inside joke" based on BUTA intel, as with "Bugged Up The Ass." I've long said I'm so adept at "Bum Budgeting" in single and double digits, just add (many) zeroes! So nutcases, what did the little computer voice say? "Not enough digits" (in the replay code #). Just as I thought "Here we go again," IT WORKED, and by the way, YOU'RE ALL FIRED!

What's next on hughesforgovernorin28days.wordpress.com? Oh, maybe "food code" from MPC (Metropolitan Psychiatric Center) circa 1998-2000, or perhaps I will solve another air disaster, but no one will care. How about one in North Carolina, where the crew circled around thunderstorms twice, then figured, "We're late for dinner," or a call girl, perhaps, and MUSH, down they went, killing all aboard. Even I know the #1 aviation rule of, "Don't be in a hurry." Or, how about that one where the crew was discussing Hillary Clinton's attractiveness, or lack thereof, and CRUNCH--you're all dead.

Whew! Last Friday, I really read hughes screenplay #8 aloud, and a fanmag told me Ms. Jolie is: a) Now directing a movie; and b) She's a screaming bitch on the set. You go girl, since I cannot. (Something about worldwide mafia! mafia!) Hey, Angela! I could only find one problem, and one problem that is not a problem. The problem was, Rupert's jet starts crashing, then there are too many scenes before it nose dives onto a Malibu beach. And, I've discussed burning a real airplane, if permits can be secured from the "everything causes cancer" crowd. The problem that is not a problem is, two acts are spent getting to know the candidate, his staff, and his family, then we alight the big horse, as all good, fast-paced movies should (right Bruckheimer?), and wow, I would not pass out barf bags, but that's a pretty good clip until the Sec......wait a minute. "I have eight fine screenplays for sale," and you all know where I am. Excuse me, I took 1-5 off the table in favor of many lawsuits, didn't I?

Anyhow, the long "getting to know you" sets up <ahem, ahem> a wonderful "tricky dick" ending, and a profitable sequel, which I refuse to write one damn word of without a contract to make a motion picture. May I take another breath? May I like my own work? (It is work, Cuckoo-Birds). How about a Lincoln Memorial lit up at night as the president himself wants scoop from my Mark Felt-like leaker. This sample is WGA-registered and copyrighted, so be sure to steal it:

(Full house in the Go Bell Computer Lab for this.....drama!.....drama!)


I am.

Yipes! Every spy in the world wants the next line, but you must pay for it. So sorry, but not, because I need money, just like you rich nutcases up in Westlake. Don't you want real Chinese jets roaring over the South American jungle in #9, as "Bob," the president's National Security Advisor shouts to "Connie," the very unlikely, but you don't know dick about spying CIA Station Chief, something like "What the f*** are they doing here?" And, she yell s over the jet noise, "They don't like this s***!" What ever are the characters talking about? Hundreds of native costumes? Drums? Earth-moving equipment? Lots and lots of plywood? LASERS & stuff? Permits to set a river on fire? "What is he doing down there?" the studio's Jewboys will ask. "Send someone down there! He's spending too much money!" Don't try it, because the natives might like me, and have poison darts & stuff.

Didn't think about that, did you?

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