The other day a police car drove ever slow slowly in the alley. The Zionist Jihad Party Boys, sequestered in their bunkers, were on high alert. Wednesday afternoon, as David could testify as a known expert in Jewish oddities (being from Stanton Island and sounding as if he just got off the train from Queens) that the Jihad Party Boys were not arguing but discussing.
One of the discussing verbiage in ultra orthodox Hebrew came out so loud that even from three houses away and across the alley, David, the Jewish oddity expert, could not out shout. Now that's loud discussing in any culture. But wait there's more.
That night, as the discussing in ultra orthodox Hebrew became more intense, a quiet ensued just before the police helicopter appeared. Around and around the helicopter went with its high intensity light that could uncover even the thickest wool of a crochet cock and ball warmer, swept the neighborhood for a good hour.
The Jihad Party Boys and their Mean Queen and Daddy have been discovered by the Los Angeles Police Force. A force to be reckon with, a force who is not afraid of law suits for kicking black ass to Jesus. A force who now accepts queers if they're butch. And I mean real butch. Not just butch gay, but buffed out fucking marine, tight-ass butch. Only the ultra Butch queer can pass--or your ordinary lesbian--if she wears a jock.
They're in fucking trouble now. The Zionist Jihad Party Boys, their Mean Queen and Daddy who funds all their deeds, are in deep doo-doo. You don't fuck with the Los Angeles Police. No fucking way unless of course you have deep pockets. Or a celebrity, hell even a newscaster can get away with murder in Los Angeles let alone Nevada convicts. But you and me? Fuck no. It's, kiss your sweet fucking ass goodbye if you don't have a few big bucks to grease greedy palms.
Millie is staying close to home. She knows. Millie knows when earthquakes come let alone the vast tunnel system built to house eggs laid by Mean Queen and built by the Zionist Jihad Party Boys. They have nestled in their underground lair, large quantities of W.M.D.
Need I say more? Do I have to draw a Mushroom Cloud? Wake up America. Here in lower Encino--Armageddon is about to be let loose.
Stories from living in Los Angeles
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Mean Queen and her Daddy have Tanks and Bombs
The other day, well okay--Sunday; a large metallic truck pulled up in front of the Mean Queen's Palace. All the other cars were dispersed about the neighborhood and just coincidentally, an Israeli Festival was taking place in the park nearby.
Once the truck was in position, a black pick-up pulled up behind it, a star of David, plastered on the rear window, big and brassy as a red-neck Texan. They began talking Hebrew, a language only a rabbi could decipher. Quite clever of them to pick the house next door to pinko, commie atheist for their invasion.
They began to unload the bombs for the vast tunnel system that Millie so cleverly discovered days ago. It almost cost her life but I bartered a dozen eggs to get my Millie back. Cheap when faced with Zionist Jihad Party Boys. So we have an invasion ran by their Queen of Mean and Daddy funding everything. Daddy has deep pockets for a Zionist Jihadist.
Hold on. Hold on, the radio just went crazy and one of their tanks has just left the area. The house is dark, except for the pretty solar lights that change rainbow colors in the back yard. I'll be damned if I'll give up my fucking solar rainbow lights. I'll face any Zionist Jihad Party Boy face to face, cock warmer to cock warmer. If they can get their fucking gut out of the way.
The radio is back. The danger has passed--for now.
A woman dressed quite well, very un-Zionist, with heels walked from one bunker to the other in the alley at noon today. A prostitute, I'm sure, to satisfy the lust that goes on with Zionist-jihadist. Even I, as old as I am will not succumb to sex with men that keep their skull-caps on and I had crochet a bunch of dick warmers too for the Jew Fair, but sadly, no one bought one. They did like the skull caps with crossbones on them.
Once the truck was in position, a black pick-up pulled up behind it, a star of David, plastered on the rear window, big and brassy as a red-neck Texan. They began talking Hebrew, a language only a rabbi could decipher. Quite clever of them to pick the house next door to pinko, commie atheist for their invasion.
They began to unload the bombs for the vast tunnel system that Millie so cleverly discovered days ago. It almost cost her life but I bartered a dozen eggs to get my Millie back. Cheap when faced with Zionist Jihad Party Boys. So we have an invasion ran by their Queen of Mean and Daddy funding everything. Daddy has deep pockets for a Zionist Jihadist.
Hold on. Hold on, the radio just went crazy and one of their tanks has just left the area. The house is dark, except for the pretty solar lights that change rainbow colors in the back yard. I'll be damned if I'll give up my fucking solar rainbow lights. I'll face any Zionist Jihad Party Boy face to face, cock warmer to cock warmer. If they can get their fucking gut out of the way.
The radio is back. The danger has passed--for now.
A woman dressed quite well, very un-Zionist, with heels walked from one bunker to the other in the alley at noon today. A prostitute, I'm sure, to satisfy the lust that goes on with Zionist-jihadist. Even I, as old as I am will not succumb to sex with men that keep their skull-caps on and I had crochet a bunch of dick warmers too for the Jew Fair, but sadly, no one bought one. They did like the skull caps with crossbones on them.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Obnoxious Hugh
Years ago in the bike club was a guy who rode with us nicknamed Obnoxious Hugh. The nickname is quite appropriate. Thankfully heterosexual, he is a true loser in his quest for a woman. He walks dogs and cuts children's hair. I'm not sure in what order he does this in but that's it folks.
He has this laugh that is completely obnoxious. Like clearing his nose at the same time, it comes out a sneer with snot. He came over today. His first act was to show his large butt to the dogs. The dogs sniffed. I looked away and thought, what next. Next was calling the dogs as he held his rump up. If it wasn't for the fact the dogs are both under ten pounds I think one of them might have mounted. Buster for sure. The clock is ticking, it is warm and I'm getting a queasy feeling.
Obnoxious Hugh pulls out some grass he scored at one of the dispensaries. I get a bong for him, hoping it will stop him from any more displays of his large ass. The dogs did like it though, the large ass and he proceeds to get stoned. Whatever it takes to keep him from talking is fine, hoping he'll smoke himself into a stooper. But he doesn't. He does get a call from someone who wants him to walk their dog. That's good because he is now showing us his collection of photos. If there is anything more obnoxious than someone telling you how great their photos are and how well he can digital enhance scenes of sand cleaners in the early light at the beach I would like to know.
He has no current girlfriend. His old girlfriend dumped him and she was no prize either. He now walks dogs, cuts hair and talks to anyone stupid enough to answer their door on a Sunday afternoon.
I do have a soft spot for him. As a teenager, he watched his father commit suicide on the apartment monitor. The father rang the apartment, Hugh clicked it on and his dad said, watch this, and then put a gun in his mouth and fired while his young son watched on the monitor. It would have to shake anybody up, I would think.
Hugh is a Jew. He is balding with a gut, a sneer for a laugh and no woman, not much dick that I could see but he does appeal to dogs and children. Funny how that works out.
He has this laugh that is completely obnoxious. Like clearing his nose at the same time, it comes out a sneer with snot. He came over today. His first act was to show his large butt to the dogs. The dogs sniffed. I looked away and thought, what next. Next was calling the dogs as he held his rump up. If it wasn't for the fact the dogs are both under ten pounds I think one of them might have mounted. Buster for sure. The clock is ticking, it is warm and I'm getting a queasy feeling.
Obnoxious Hugh pulls out some grass he scored at one of the dispensaries. I get a bong for him, hoping it will stop him from any more displays of his large ass. The dogs did like it though, the large ass and he proceeds to get stoned. Whatever it takes to keep him from talking is fine, hoping he'll smoke himself into a stooper. But he doesn't. He does get a call from someone who wants him to walk their dog. That's good because he is now showing us his collection of photos. If there is anything more obnoxious than someone telling you how great their photos are and how well he can digital enhance scenes of sand cleaners in the early light at the beach I would like to know.
He has no current girlfriend. His old girlfriend dumped him and she was no prize either. He now walks dogs, cuts hair and talks to anyone stupid enough to answer their door on a Sunday afternoon.
I do have a soft spot for him. As a teenager, he watched his father commit suicide on the apartment monitor. The father rang the apartment, Hugh clicked it on and his dad said, watch this, and then put a gun in his mouth and fired while his young son watched on the monitor. It would have to shake anybody up, I would think.
Hugh is a Jew. He is balding with a gut, a sneer for a laugh and no woman, not much dick that I could see but he does appeal to dogs and children. Funny how that works out.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Mean Queen Stole my Mexicans
Editing and laundry, gardening and watering, I kept going by the bedroom window. The gardeners pulled up but didn't get out of the truck. The Mean Queen made a hasty U in the street and pulled up in front of her place for the first time. I went back to whatever in hell it was with an occasional looked out the front. One gardener was asleep behind the wheel. The other had disappeared.
I feared the worse. The Mean Queen probably needed other nourishment than fat children. Something with a lot of protein like a sinewy Mexican gardener. The one lost was old anyway but the one behind the wheel has the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean and lanky with a lazy playful smile. I give them beer when I have it. Tell them to skip when the weather is too hot or just awful. I know how to treat hot spicy Mexican gardeners.
The Mean Queen and her daddy grilled the older, sinewy gardener. They grilled and then put him to work. They both got out, cut my lawn and then went to pay homage at the palace next door. They worked and worked, cutting and blowing for the Mean Queen and her daddy.
Then daddy paid them and they finished my place.
It was cowardly of me. I could have ran out in my dick warmer with a cold beer in each hand but I figured after a bout with Mean Queen and daddy, they probably wanted to head south of the border, down Mexico way. I'll know next Friday if they come back and if they once again, are forced to serve for the Mean Queen her daddy.
Outside of my concern for the gardeners, I found a need to add more to a scene in Jawbone. Everything is ready to send out to publishers, the query and synopsis, but going over the work one last time, I need to clear up a scene better and it wouldn't hurt to add seven thousand words. That would give it seventy and more publishers seem to want at least that.
I feared the worse. The Mean Queen probably needed other nourishment than fat children. Something with a lot of protein like a sinewy Mexican gardener. The one lost was old anyway but the one behind the wheel has the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean and lanky with a lazy playful smile. I give them beer when I have it. Tell them to skip when the weather is too hot or just awful. I know how to treat hot spicy Mexican gardeners.
The Mean Queen and her daddy grilled the older, sinewy gardener. They grilled and then put him to work. They both got out, cut my lawn and then went to pay homage at the palace next door. They worked and worked, cutting and blowing for the Mean Queen and her daddy.
Then daddy paid them and they finished my place.
It was cowardly of me. I could have ran out in my dick warmer with a cold beer in each hand but I figured after a bout with Mean Queen and daddy, they probably wanted to head south of the border, down Mexico way. I'll know next Friday if they come back and if they once again, are forced to serve for the Mean Queen her daddy.
Outside of my concern for the gardeners, I found a need to add more to a scene in Jawbone. Everything is ready to send out to publishers, the query and synopsis, but going over the work one last time, I need to clear up a scene better and it wouldn't hurt to add seven thousand words. That would give it seventy and more publishers seem to want at least that.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I See Dead Bodies
Caryl is driving to Riverside, a place that has more cows than people, to learn forensic science. I thought it was poll dancing because what does Riverside offer but bars and cows? The police department there is running a class in police procedures for crime investigation. Blood splatter is next on the list.
I told her to watch Dexter. All the blood splatter you would ever want to know is in that series. I loaned her my book, Forensics for Dummies. That, and she asked me questions on police procedures when I was a cop thirty years ago. Back then there wasn't a procedure. You shot or captured someone and let the courts do the rest. Simple really, I remember my training when it came to crowd control. You grabbed the nearest hippie in the crowd and put a plastic tie cuff on their wrists (they had just came out), throw them in the wagon and get another one.
Nowadays you can't shoot them first. You have to wait, yell that you are a police officer and that you have a weapon. You do not shoot running suspects. It is hard for the department to explain bullet holes in the back. What you need to do is run faster then they and shoot them in the front or tackle them. I preferred to run over them with my cruiser. I wrote a hell of an auto accident report.
So Caryl was a dentist and now wants to work on dead people. Well, they can't ask for more gas can they? Can't compare you to a Nazi war criminal because the drill slipped. I guess it will work out. But there is one problem with the dead I never got over. They are really dead. I mean if you have to lift one. It is back breaking heavy. No wonder Dexter sawed them up and put them in bags. How else can you move the damn things.
I told her to watch Dexter. All the blood splatter you would ever want to know is in that series. I loaned her my book, Forensics for Dummies. That, and she asked me questions on police procedures when I was a cop thirty years ago. Back then there wasn't a procedure. You shot or captured someone and let the courts do the rest. Simple really, I remember my training when it came to crowd control. You grabbed the nearest hippie in the crowd and put a plastic tie cuff on their wrists (they had just came out), throw them in the wagon and get another one.
Nowadays you can't shoot them first. You have to wait, yell that you are a police officer and that you have a weapon. You do not shoot running suspects. It is hard for the department to explain bullet holes in the back. What you need to do is run faster then they and shoot them in the front or tackle them. I preferred to run over them with my cruiser. I wrote a hell of an auto accident report.
So Caryl was a dentist and now wants to work on dead people. Well, they can't ask for more gas can they? Can't compare you to a Nazi war criminal because the drill slipped. I guess it will work out. But there is one problem with the dead I never got over. They are really dead. I mean if you have to lift one. It is back breaking heavy. No wonder Dexter sawed them up and put them in bags. How else can you move the damn things.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Boxcar Willie
Storm clouds have formed over the Santa Monicas. Good time to get Boxcar Willie and Mortgage Lifter into the ground. Each seedling got a good smear of home grown muck to snug them in their bed between rows of pole beans.
While at it, we picked a bowl of sugar snaps and another of greens for the salad. I think I might be able to keep up my composting with the new composter. So far I'm about even though I do run a bit short each planting of the composted straw and chicken manure. When the weather cooperates, I can have a batch ready by the time I clean out the hen house and pen. The barrel holds it all and then some and the composting action starts right up.
Once I get the bamboo grove out, the vegetable garden will almost double and the land is in a good location for year round planting. I thought artichoke plants along the patio border. I could put in corn too but you have to plant a lot of corn to get a good crop of it.
The jihad boys have been very quiet. Mean queen has been very quiet. Too quiet if you ask me. Something is a-foot. Something sinister is brewing in the barracks and the palace of the mean queen. I can feel it, almost taste it. The moon is waxing, becoming stronger and I think it may start the jihad party boys up in a fever pitch of clap-clap songs. The mean queen will want a fresh fat child. I can feel it in my bones.
While at it, we picked a bowl of sugar snaps and another of greens for the salad. I think I might be able to keep up my composting with the new composter. So far I'm about even though I do run a bit short each planting of the composted straw and chicken manure. When the weather cooperates, I can have a batch ready by the time I clean out the hen house and pen. The barrel holds it all and then some and the composting action starts right up.
Once I get the bamboo grove out, the vegetable garden will almost double and the land is in a good location for year round planting. I thought artichoke plants along the patio border. I could put in corn too but you have to plant a lot of corn to get a good crop of it.
The jihad boys have been very quiet. Mean queen has been very quiet. Too quiet if you ask me. Something is a-foot. Something sinister is brewing in the barracks and the palace of the mean queen. I can feel it, almost taste it. The moon is waxing, becoming stronger and I think it may start the jihad party boys up in a fever pitch of clap-clap songs. The mean queen will want a fresh fat child. I can feel it in my bones.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Party Night
The weather cooperated, the jihad party boys were busy burrowing tunnels, the mean queen was hunkered down to egg laying after feeding on fat children and we had a party. Smoked ham, Boston baked beans and collard greens--Southern style.
The Weber grill is great. Weened off the propane, I'm finding that it ain't barbecue if you don't have smoke and wood. The ham came out fine, smokey and the apricot-soy sauce baste was excellent.
It was a sort of test. The induction stove top worked well. It really gets hot and I was able to use the crock pot on the same line. Now the next step is to see if the toaster-oven will overload the system or work too. Then I'll have an almost complete kitchen on the patio.
We had some friends over that we haven't seen in a long time. That was nice and some of them reconnected to others they haven't seen in while. David and Greg made nice and have a play date set for Saturday. If everyone behaves, we might have another party, hell maybe I'll ask the jihad party boys over. We can do the clap clap dance.
The Weber grill is great. Weened off the propane, I'm finding that it ain't barbecue if you don't have smoke and wood. The ham came out fine, smokey and the apricot-soy sauce baste was excellent.
It was a sort of test. The induction stove top worked well. It really gets hot and I was able to use the crock pot on the same line. Now the next step is to see if the toaster-oven will overload the system or work too. Then I'll have an almost complete kitchen on the patio.
We had some friends over that we haven't seen in a long time. That was nice and some of them reconnected to others they haven't seen in while. David and Greg made nice and have a play date set for Saturday. If everyone behaves, we might have another party, hell maybe I'll ask the jihad party boys over. We can do the clap clap dance.
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