In the meantime

 

In between all the insanity, which I do not recommend for anyone, I've been creating my own art, which has always been a hobby of mine going back to the very first day of my blogging experience.  

As a matter of fact, as of tomorrow, I've been banging on this keyboard for exactly 21 years in total.  

It was by accident that I started my own blog on the day Hunter Thompson died 21 years ago.  I was depressed because of the football season. I was a secret Raider fan back then, but that was like 10 coaches and 15-20 QBs ago.  Who can keep track?  My son, who was a baby at the time, has grown up, maintained a 4.0 through high school, graduated from college, and is now deciding which law school to attend.  The kid is awesome, and he wasn't even born the last time the Raiders went to the bowl.     

My daughter, who was the source of numerous anecdotes over the years, is now married with a toddler.  I'm not giving any further information to protect her from the sickos,  

A lot of my old friends are gone, and none of them by natural causes, which is concerning to say the least.  We can pull up the articles and go through that entire process, but why bother now?  All that matters is that I escaped alive.  What am I supposed to do?  

Looking back a few years, it would seem the Grim Reaper obtained a list of my recent contacts and went through it like a hot knife in butter.  Whatta fucking coincidence!  Very strange, considering all the other security concerns I've highlighted since the divorce.  Strange days indeed!  

But I'm sure it's all in my mind, I'm paranoid.  I keep screaming somebody tried to kill me, my boss died under mysterious circumstances, two of my former coworkers, as well as another parent from the taekwondo center, were murdered.  Plus, there were a couple of more people I met who were on the 6 o'clock news, the victims of a random carjacking, both occupants shot and killed. Fuck me, it was like living in Tombstone. 

 I wonder what the common thread was?  

Before you say it was me, I was out of the state when two of the killings happened.  

So many coincidences, so many tragedies and near-tragedies.  That was the day I decided it was a great idea to leave.   I went into lockdown, who wouldn't?  Big city, turn me loose and set me free.   

It's been three years, and I've done my best to pick up the pieces and move forward without crying or asking anybody for anything, not even a kind word.  

Ashleigh. Is the only person I trust, and she's a dog.   We're cowboys in Wyoming now.   

We need to go to the art store and get the appropriate materials for a little Bob Ross clinic.   Those creations were generated by AI from photos to watercolors, giving me a color spectrum.  We will see how it goes.    

Deliver us from Evil

I've been hung up on my hang-ups at this point, but throughout it all, I always prayed The Lord's Prayer.   It was the one thing that I could do to protect myself from what was going on around me.

Yeah, so what? Life's been rough; you either toughen up and live or you give up and die.   I'm thankful every day that I didn't die.  They have their story, and I have mine.  Thats all.  Nobody gives a rip otherwise; they're gonna put you in a box, slap on a label, and in my case, all these people who said they were trying to help me made my life totally miserable.  It was a lie, and the more lies I saw, the more I hated lies (to rob a line from Apocalypse Now).       

So there it is, I've got a lot to be thankful for in spite of whatever circumstances befell due to my own actions, as well as whoever slipped the knockout drops in my drink.  To this day, I have no idea what it was; I can only suspect, and a couple of those messed-up RNs knew what was going on.   

It's fine, just stay out of my face.  

I found my way without your assistance, thank you.  As far as I'm concerned, those people are evil, and I got delivered from them.   Even when they took my bible and called it a book of hate speech, only in California.  You know?  Only in California...

I'm still alive, still kicking, doing quite well.   Grateful every single day.       

 

Cleaning out the closet

 I found a box of clothing from California, some of it brand new, pants and shirts, several pairs of old Levis etc..  None of it fits me anymore, like it's not even close. I was some kind of fucking beast before COVID, then I got fat, then I couldn't eat anymore because it all tasted terrible.  I've lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 95 pounds, depending on the day of the week.  I was a real barrel ass and almost died from COVID, and then surviving the little murder trip caused me to stop eating.  

Who wouldnt be sick?  

To know the woman you spent half your life with was lying to you and then tried to poison you to cover it up.  Fuck that shit.  

Folks back home can kiss my ass if they think for one damn minute that's not how it went.  Add in the parolee at large, the Turkish nutcase, the purple mafia, the woman who identified as my sister, along with the fire, my brothers, some kind of religious cult, the DA's office, and a couple of fried out ex cops with an axe to grind.  

I was holding an extremely bad hand.  My life went from zero to a Tarantino film in a crystal meth heartbeat, to say the least.  

My business was booming, I tried to keep my head down and work it out, but ultimately failed due to a total lack of support, while this woman, whom I don't even know anymore, was actively ripping me off.  Typical.   They love to kick when you're down.    

That's when I packed my gear and hit the bricks. All I ever wanted in the first place was to clear out of that troubled little town and go somewhere else.  My ex-wife would never hear of it, no matter how much hardship I had to endure to satisfy her fucking greed.  

So today I cleaned out the closet, because that is not me anymore.  I can't wear a size 42 pair of slacks and never intend to go back, that's all.  

I'm keeping all the Levis...

My words are like tumbleweeds blowing across a desert of ideas… 

Fear and Loathing from the Heartland

 I'll tell ya, I've been calling my mom every day since the Guthrie kidnapping.  Can you blame me?  

My sister married a man with a conviction for kidnapping for ransom.  He did over three decades in the can for it.  

But hey, welcome home, merry Christmas, happy New Year, and all that, you despicable piece of shit.  

Unbelievable.  

I tried to be kind and gracious to this swine, and he repaid me with treachery.  I never asked for this psychopath to be inducted into the family; he just showed up and started issuing orders like he was still in the pen.  Before you knew it, he had my own mother telling me to get fucked.  No kidding.

That's why I flew the coup, to hell with all of them. 

This prick had some sob story about being illegally convicted and sentenced as a juvenile, neglecting to mention all the sick shit he did from the inside while he was in there.  Finally, his own gang tried to kill him, and he snitched out.  

The cops were so pleased with his performance that he gained his freedom and aligned himself with a different criminal organization from the Bay Area.  I suspect his informing continued after he was released, but he never snitched on himself or his associates or the dope they were moving.   

I'm pretty sure he was using heroin again and working on routes to smuggle dope back into the pen via drones.  I've got receipts.  

I also know the smell of burning heroin, and one evening, my nephew asked me what that weird smell was.  I knew what it was, but told the kid it was something else.   I didn't have much of a choice but to stay there at that point while I was trying to recover from surgery.  According to his lame ass parole agent, the cocksucker wasn't even supposed to be in the county, ever.  Much less running a suspected dope trafficking ring with the assistance of my model citizen sister. 

But it was totally implausible that somebody tried to poison me, then lied to the cops and told them I was holding my own daughter hostage, etc., etc., and so on.  

I'm a loose cannon; I made the whole thing up.       

They never had a problem making me take the stand before, so why not believe me this time?  I was even forced to sit on jury duty after this entire ordeal was behind me.  I told one of the jury people over the phone that I was homeless, and it was putting a huge strain on me to go back to Bakersfield for jury duty.  She said that's tough luck, but if you don't show up, you'll be subject to a bench warrant.  Typically, that statement is gonna be total bullshit, but you've got to remember how much they hate me, after all, it is Kern County.  

After the week of abuse I endured under a plethora of false accusations, which caused me to lose it all, the next logical step these evil motherfuckers were gonna take was having a warrant issued for failure to appear.  I'm not kidding, and I have receipts.  Call me a liar all you want, but it can be proven.  I have the man's name; it all ties back to him, and he had a friendly relationship with the angry party planner.  He had a personal vendetta against my brother, and he threatened me on multiple occasions that if I didn't go along with their whole trip, he'd ruin my life.  Well, here we are.

So, I had them coming at me from all angles; they were so far up my ass I could taste hair gel.   All while I'm going through a divorce and working 7 days a week.   I never asked for sympathy about any of it, but I deserve some modicum of justice that is never coming.  That's why I keep going off in the blog posts.  

Ed Humes wrote a book, Mean Justice, which was dismissed as liberal pap, but the same people are still in charge right now because nothing ever changes.  People get crushed by these villains, and you just have to sit there and take it.   If you do say something, plan on getting hit so hard you reconsider your options.   I'm done reconsidering.  

Have a nice day.      

 Choosing the lesser of two evils is still choosing evil.   

Jerry Garcia

You can't fail if you don't quit

 I don't think my stat tracker works.  Good for Governor Christie; he obviously received my message that character matters.  This is fine.  I saw the Sunday morning show he was on.  

I have to confess, You can't fail if you don't quit, is a stolen line.  It's fine, nobody gives a shit.  

 

As long as he's not a satan-worshipping child molester who dines on human flesh.   

I'm from Bakersfield, and we know a thing or two about satan-worshipping child molesters because the place has been a hotbed of such activities since before my time.  

Think globally but act locally.  

It's all well documented, and it continues to this fucking day.  The pillars of society reveal their cracks from time to time, and what lies beneath is mortifying.  How else does a former cop go to the home of a chief deputy DA and shiv him in the head, then only receive a year in California Men's Colony at San Luis? 

The answer is simple, because the decedant was buggering the perpetrator's son since before he was an adult, keeping him hopped on crystal meth to fuel their sexcapades until the kid finally suicided.   

It was all neatly processed and contained as an isolated problem, and not what it really is, which is a group of rich and powerful men who exploit minors for sexual gratification that begins on a local level and spreads throughout the land like a disease.   

Here, this guy is enforcing the law by day while breaking it in the most heinous manner at night.  It was an open secret to the point where the father took the law into his own hands.  Why, you ask?  Because nobody was doing anything! 

 This is the same thing as the predators in the Epstein Files.  Nobody is gonna do anything because they are the law.    

Some of the people who've been so concerned with this blog and what I write are up to their necks in it; otherwise, they wouldn't give a rat's ass what some unknown writes about a shithole like Bakersfield.  Fuck that place, you still need a dose of reality.  

That wasn't my whole schtick to begin with.  I've been gone from there for almost three years now, but certain 'folks' from that area want to run interference in my life from thousands of miles away.  They have a personal stake in discrediting me lest their secrets be told.  Fuck them and their secrets.  Sickos. 

I don't actually know their secrets, but I've said it over and over, believe none of what you hear, half of what you see, and follow the pattern.   From an observer's standpoint, those freaks fit the same pattern as the Epstein ghouls.   

Have a nice day.  

Character Matters

 If I hear that song by the Troggs, A Girl Like You, one more time, I'm gonna go full-on Elvis and open fire on the television.  They're using it in a dog food commercial right now, and it's in heavy rotation.  It was lame in 1966, and it is even worse 60 years later.  

They only had one song, and that was, Wild Thing.  It was bad enough, but this other monstrosity, you've got to be high on nitrous oxide to think this is a viable tune.  

Trust me, I know.  

I'm sure the songwriter appreciates the royalties, but my senses are offended.  

This is the actual television Elvis blew up with a .357 because he was pissed off at Robert Goulet; it's on display at Graceland.  I'm not even that mad, and who can afford to buy a new television the night before the Super Bowl?  

On the other hand, I've been following the non-stop coverage of the Nancy Guthrie kidnapping.  What a terrible thing.  I know a little about people who kidnap folks for ransom, having almost been a victim of that psycho who married the woman who identifies as my sister.  

It didn't work out for him, and it's not gonna work out for these perpetrators.  

The other kidnapping case I have knowledge of was a drug dealer who escaped from my pod in the pen on my day off.  

He got away and went to Los Angeles, where he kidnapped a business owner's wife and daughter for ransom.  It ended in a shootout with the LAPD, and the escapee died along with both hostages.  It was brutal.  

I tried to black it out of my memory, even though I was on my day off.  I always felt like he waited for me to go on days off to escape because I'd have caught him and stomped his guts into the fucking pavement, and he knew it.  The guy he pulled the escape on was a total stooge, and he should have been fired at least, but I'm sure he went on to have a long and illustrious career as a prison guard; he's probably a warden by now.  

I coded off shortly thereafter because an illegal alien drug dealer escaped, and a couple of innocent people died as a result of a colleague's negligence. An informant told us the escapee had an INS hold that was going to deport him to his country of origin, but he wasn't who he said he was, and he was facing a murder beef back home.  

Somebody should have been shitcanned, but they promoted him instead.   I got promoted too, but politics shouldn't take precedent over principles, and that was it for me.  Character matters; good luck finding it inside one of those places.