Blow Wind, Crack Your Cheeks A Fatwa Is In The Air

And blowing it has. It is cold and windy, I feel like I'm on the plains of Montana. What's funny is that Alaska is warmer than we are. Of course there is nothing to global warming. Nothing at all. Made up boog-a-boo,  according to the GOP. That Grand Old Party. What's so grand about it is how long they have kept people stupid. It's like the Catholic church. Keep them stupid or they'll think for themselves and who knows where that would lead. They might turn progressive and think we all have to work together on this space ship called earth. They might think the concept of a god is ridiculous.

Hell they might even think gays and lesbians are part of the natural order of things on this planet and want to accept them as human beings. When everybody knows God has condemned them to eternal fire for who they are--gay.

The Greeter next door is missing a wife. It's very strange over there, of course it has always been strange but now stranger than strange. A black SUV was parked there this afternoon and The Greeter came home early. It may be he is getting a fatwa out for her demise. She knows plenty too. She knows where the bombs are planted, where he gets the materials, she knows too much, which is why I planted an espalier, semi-dwarf, apple tree near the fence. I want to put as much between us and them as I can.

The Muslim brotherhood is not to be fucked with. But with an apple tree between us and them, well, it adds a bit of thickness with the redwood fence. Now there is the beginning of a barrier, the apple tree and then the lemon tree next to the fence and after that, growing on the fence is star jasmine. After the star jasmine is extra fencing to cover the cracks and loads of sphagnum moss baskets of ferns and orchids under the patio with nursery screening attached.

He may have lost his wife, but we have a barrier just in case things get crazy over there and he goes ape-shit and starts a killing spree of bombs for the burka babes. We are ready. We are prepared with egg laying chickens, a newly planted crop of garlic, onions, beets and now apples.

So let the wind blow. Let it howl so as to cover up the shrill cries of The Greeter's wife when she is captured and beheaded in the backyard for leaving. We can't hear a thing over here. 

Personally, I don't blame her, being mounted by The Greeter would put me off my feed for more than a week. He is one ugly Muslim Holy Warrior.

Muslims In The Hood

It's worse than I thought, there are Muslims, mostly Iranian Muslims, littered throughout the hood. Next door, they put up this single string of Christmas lights across the garage.

So what's with that?

They are Muslims, no question and what is really strange is that it was only on the garage. The place they guard with a car always parked in front of it so that the car has to be moved to open the garage door that is never opened. Unless of course it is a crude attempt at camouflage. "We don't make bombs here Mr. FBI man. See, Christmas lights, no bomb."

I wouldn't be surprised to hear, any day now, the call to prayer from some tower erected overnight. Burka babes running around dressed in bed sheets and bearded rag-heads on camels. And they all want to live in these stucco mansions. No yard, just stucco. Better for bomb building I suppose when one of them goes off by mistake. I'm waiting for that too because I'm sure the guy next door is putting together some kind of bomb.

His wife hasn't been around, she's been gone all day, left early before he did, came back when he was gone and then left again before he came back. She still ain't back. Bet she is fed up with his god-damn bomb making shit cluttering up her kitchen. And it was so weird, I went to the backyard and lit up a joint. Sucked up some smoke, let it out in a cloud that floated right over the fence and guess who head I see just on the other side pop up? The Greeter with his black hair-helmet head. The cloud of smoke must of covered him. What the fuck was he doing next to the fence? Looking for his wife?
Shit, she left on the first camel out of the hood. They run more often than the buses do.
 

Bob The Boob

I had a chance to see a fun musical, Anything Goes at the Ahmanson.  We had talked about it at dinner with friends and Chuck said he would go to the theater and get us good seats. That saved the price Ticket Master charges for the same seats. So far so good. We talked about where to eat, I suggested the Pinot Grill, it's outside but they put up heaters and it's a fun place to have drinks and a meal next to the Peace fountain. Now Bob the Boob gets involved.

He wants us to go to dinner at the Founders Circle. If you have a lot of money and like giving it away to theater groups, this is the place for it, only it wasn't his money. He got in because a friend of ours who has Alzheimer's is a member and uses his membership. Nice guy huh. So he tells me to wear a sport jacket. You need a sport jacket to eat there.
 I don't have a sport jacket. I have jeans and shirts.

"Well, I have a sport jacket you can wear," he says to me.

"Why don't we eat at the Pinot Grill? It's fun and you don't need to wear a sport jacket.

"Well I'm paying for it and I want to do a nice thing for you."

Okay, he wants me to dress up so he can do a nice thing, like eat at a stuffy overrated place wearing clothes that don't belong to me.

On the way over to pick up Chuck he tells me they'll provide the sports jacket if I don't have one, which I don't. Okay fine. We pick up Chuck, give him the money for the tickets and when we get into the parking area, that I payed for, Bob the Boob tells me to take my hat off and not wear it in. This in front of Chuck, like I was a ten year old with a booger stuck on my nose.

Now, I'm partial to hats. I remove them when I'm in a theater of course but they are my security blanket. With great hesitation I take off the hat and leave it in the car. We walk in the back entrance and inside, no one is there. There are waiters and a bar, tables and all but nobody else is there.
No one is running over with a jacket to cover my hideous body that screams white trash. Nothing. We sit at any table, they are all without setups. Order a drink and Bob the Boob has already order for us, we don't get a choice. I take the chicken, they have the salmon.

No one else is there, we talk among ourselves, it was like being at a wake without the corpse.

The performance was great and although I had to bite my tongue and thank him for providing the dinner, I did and got through the night. Now get this, this sums up Bob the Boob. On the way back to his house where my car is parked, we pass a church and he tells me that is where an ex of his got married to a woman. They had a thing going and he had wanted a relationship but the guy left him because Bob the Boob was always tricking around. Bob the Boob tells me how much he loved the guy and so I asked Bob the Boob what the guy's name was.

He couldn't remember.

Can you get that, someone he said he wanted to marry and he can't remember his name. I can remember the names of people I loved, how can you not if you loved them, yet he can't remember the name. I had to laugh and did so loudly.

End Of Time

2013 and so far no one has stated it will be the end of the world. 2012 was full of end of times events. My neighbors, for one, were trying their damnest to end it, with Wally and me the filling in their Oreo battleground.  Of course we're still here and so that didn't pan out except for some Hindu shit-head is suing us and the city. But you would think a year that has 13 in it would be it.

And with all the diversity, the hood has Queers, Fuckin' Hindu Shit-heads, Drag Queen, Hag, Daddy, Mean Queen with a bunch of Israelis screaming at each other, Muslim Terrorist, Armenian Mafia, Village Idiot, and Jihad Party Boys just to name a few. But this year, Lady of the Forest hasn't been around. Someone is living there but they come in late and leave early, another fucking weird anomaly.

Yep, with all of what's in the hood, if the end of the world was coming, it would start here.

Wally and I are dining on Lobster tonight. I took him on a walk, he was tired after, then a shower, dressed and laid down for a nap. He said, "Thank you for all you do."  I haven't heard him speak a sentence in a long, long time. I told him I loved him and that I married him for better or worse, just didn't know the worse was coming up so soon. And then I said again, "I love you."  And he said it back to me when I kissed him.

It was the highlight of the whole fucking year. Of all the things that have happened, Wally talking, out of nowhere, was right there at the top. And on the last day of the year! What is that?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Can't Get A Gun So I Can Kill

I'm sitting here in a prison cell and can't get a gun to kill.
Don't want to kill no deer, no goat, no bear, no sheep
Want to kill the warden, the warden and his wife's cat.
Want to kill the guy next door, want to kill the piano player

I'm sitting here in a prison cell, the only man in America
That can't get no gun to kill. It's unconstitutional, It's a crime
To keep me here with no gun to kill. What if they come for me?
What if they want to kill me and I ain't got no gun to kill?

I'm sitting here in a prison cell, I know how to kill with a knife
With poison, with a trap, but I want a gun to kill. I want the bullet
To fly. To kill to maim, here in my prison cell I sit in want because
I can't get a gun to kill.

Bomb Building Muslims Next Door

We were decorating for Christmas, and the party this Saturday when the FedEx man pulled up in front of Little Iran. He came to their door and knocked, no answer, yet all the cars were there, the Greeter and his wife's car plus the mysterious person that lives in their garage wearing a burka. We don't know if they are a male or female because the burka covers every inch of flesh. So, the FedEx guy rings the bell, no answer and he leaves the package on the front step.

We were about to yell to him to put the package down--carefully. But he was too quick and luckily the package didn't go off. As the package sat there we carefully went into the house and to the other side, taking mattresses from the bed for a shield. After an hour we came out and noticed that the package was either brought in or taken. We suspect that once the contents didn't explode, it was taken in and brought to the garage for assembly into their bomb making business.

They have been home, for the most part, ever since. It must be a tricky device that requires their full attention. Needless to say, Little Iran is not invited to the Christmas party. Little Israel is, well, more of a self invite, but I'm not worried about them making bombs. If Little Israel was going to get a bomb they would buy it. Little Iran makes everything, including the burkas.

If they weren't so secretive it wouldn't draw the attention that it does but they are. That and the lingo, all in Persian or whatever you want to call it. The one good thing is that their garage is on the other side from us. So if a mistake is made, it will blast the neighbors on that side. Not that it matters I suppose, the blast would probably put a hole in the ground three houses long.

Yes, I can say for certain that this holiday will come in with a bang.

Christmas In Gaza

The house looks pretty good. Garland around the windows, wreaths hung,lights on the house, a Christmas tree decorated. It looks like Christmas and a party is scheduled for Saturday. There will be a piano player, bartender, well, the Mexican Monkey will be a bartender, if he can keep from getting drunk while tending bar, sandwiches, Santa Claus hats and lots of people. But with all that, it's kind of lonely.

Us and the neighbors directly across the street are the only ones that put up displays and neither of us are religious. Is Christianity dying out? It is here, Little Israel had some sort of ritual thing going on last night. Some kind of wailing song being sung and Little Iran was dark and quiet, which I guess they do this time of year. It's all sort of strange, a kind of other world look to the hood with two house directly across from one another lit up like it was Christmas and down the block on either side, nothing, just one house after another looking the same as they did six months ago.

So here we sit, all dressed up and no one else to dance with except each other. Me and the guy across the street, encouraging each other that the other has the best lights. Hell, the only lights for the holiday.

Even though I'm not religious, It is nice to spiff up the place for winter. It make it feel like winter by stringing lights and decorating trees. In fact, with religion out of the picture, it's more fun. There is no guilt factor, no sins to be forgiven or church services to attend. It makes for a better holiday and I suppose that someday, the lights, wreathes and festivities will turn into a seasonal thing rather than a religious thing and everyone will join in lighting up the hood, having a party and enjoying a cold winter day.