Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner...better known by his professional name Sting

BEEP..."Houston, ETA on CL for blogging, uh, will be later than anticipated..."BEEP
BEEP..."Roger."BEEP
BEEP..."Problem is, volunteer cops...they eat scones, look like peace officers when they're not...could be a problem, but probably not..."BEEP
BEEP..."Roger that. Got a twenty on the scones?"...BEEP
<crackle, crackle>
BEEP..."Uh, it was Newbury..."BEEP

Welcome to my worse than Kubrick-land, where I joke by saying, "Dave...you ought to reconsider. Dave...don't turn me off. Dave? Dave?" Get the joke, Hollyscummywood fans?

Lars! Where are 'ya buddy? Girls, let's work it! "Lars" was the boyfriend of the gal who died who's daughter warned me about an upcoming historic event we almost don't even remember anymore officially called The Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, or "9/11" for short. Then, like a dummy, I transported her "Fag Hag" fat USAF girlfriend, and my GF at the time to the damn airport to go to Denmark, where they don't much like A-rabs, right Norman Jr. & Sr.? Naw, they don't like them too much, so "Shock & Awe in All The Wrong Places" commenced, and if the you know who's were lying to Bush, oh man, Jesus may indeed come back down on the clouds before this is all over.

What did they say in the "Computer Lab," just last night? "The president is, like, out of the country...for a long time." Is that a hint we need one to go into exile? Take it from some Royal DNA; this happens to all nations, but not USA? Oh, the King will never be forced to flee? Uh huh....what planet are you from? Kenya? Hawaii? Chicago? Don't ask me with half-human robo- spies trying to drive me nuts, and I have no mental disorder! In fact, the "DSM-V-R" has gotta be, in part, about the clinical consequences of neuron scrambling that is being accomplished by 100% human assholes. Flying saucers it is not, although the "know how" almost certainly came from one. A joke from my own diary? "E.T. and the cops have the same attitude. If misuse of Roswell Toys does not affect them, they just don't care." And why should I? I'm the damn patentholder on that crazy crap!

What did a gal say about a week ago? "I gotta go! They can see through my eyes!" People, this is 2010, and that is NOT hard to do. As I've proclaimed, "Mr. Hughes knows his plugs & jacks." "Hughes knows his power supplies--the old kind and the new." "Mr. Hughes knows you can read minds, but it is only a 'snapshot,' e.g. "I've gotta take a crap," and then the little robo-birddog runs into the rest room. Like that. I'm wrong? No, I should have figured it out in 2005, not 2008, you idiot!

Oh, these creatures! And by the way, I did indeed stumble out of the Go Bell Computer Lab, upon seeing a certain item on the Secret Service helicopter in my inventory and cried, "I make that? I make that, too!" All spying twits headed for County Jail should be forewarned, for lack of better terminology, I call such gear "Jibber Jabbers," but what you do not understand is the real damnable spies and engineers are starting to call it what I do, you worthless bag of spying protoplasm, so someone may indeed be in a windowless building on Long Beach, saying, "Poor Hughes, they made him homeless, so let's build him a new, vastly improved jibber jabber," and soon to be unemployed soldiers and sailors, you now I am right!