Sunday, June 12, 2016


OOPS I forgot some more interlocking facts which lead in circles to more facts. In my huge first post I was rambling about Paris Hilton not talking to me and why it no big deal except she could have gotten off her ass and helped me a lot politically. Well I just returned from my usual morning coffee with my friend Orville McDonald, former Public Relations man for Sonny & Cher. I tried several times asking Cher if she knew how or where I could reconnect with Orville and whether he was alive or dead but she too never replied. Now I know what kind she is since she threatened to leave the country if Trump is elected and sing I GOT YOU BABY-I GOT YOU BABE over and over with her naked ass in some other country. Put a bullet in her and for the last time in History yell I GOT YOU BABE.
Anyway I returned from coffee with Orville to find 25 feet from my apartment that little girl with her head crushed under the truck. She was \\\ excuse me I just had a few seconds of loud crying as the trauma of all I have seen hit me\\\\ back to the dead girl, she was surrounded by practical all the apartment complex residents, firemen, policemen, a small small truck with two women wife graveyard grey orah from the Coroner's office and Dallas TV cameramen and reporters since it was gross enough for the News.

One of the Coroner ladies walked over very close to where I sat down and picked up a small white triangle. As soon as I saw it I knew what it was. The poor girl's head must have exploded all over the parking lot from the pressure and I realized I should watch my steps 25 feet back to my apartment. I have been up all night and it is almost noon the next day. I have been trying to hurry and keep it short and not ramble like an insane man. I desperately want to finish ALL of my story this one time for the World to know and throw if off of my chest never to speak of it as a whole life story again. But I am recalling interlacing item not mentioned and I don't have strength left to go back and edit them into the various places. Also I thought I was near the end of my story but things keep adding on as if there is NO END.
Continuing, the reason I knew what the little girl size white triangle that the Coroner lady picked up in front of me was is simple. My REAL father had a man-size or taco chip size triangle missing, just skin hiding his brain, from his forehead. That part of the skull breaks into triangles. I told the doctor not to keep Dad alive as a vegetable. A few years ago I saw something on TV that made me doubt my decision to let Dad die.. A little black boy was hit in the head during a drive-by shooting. He survived, grew up, and went thru college with only half a brain. God Only Knows.
Back in Dallas only a couple hundred yards up Melody Lane from the site of the girl's death something happened that was so routine it would not have made the TV News except that things like that weren't supposed to happen in rich North Dallas. It was another drive-by shooting and I was almost in it but for God's timing
I was driving up Melody Lane to have my coffee. Suddenly an old Cadillac raced out of a parking lot so fast it barely stayed on the road. Both I and a postal truck slammed on the brakes to a stop. The Cadillac stopped briefly for a black kid to jump out and run back into the apartments with a black object in his hand. Then the Cadillac sped 50 feet to the corner and without stopping for the sign made a wild, blind left turn onto the busy cross street and disappeared. All was clear so I drove on the short distance to my coffee. I drank my coffee at my usual calm pace but this time I did not get a refill. I was curious to return to the scene and try to find out what was going on. The police were there and I tried to tell what I saw leading up to this new scene I found myself in, but the police were rude implying that I knew nothing. The Cadillac was back in the parking lot but now had 20 or 30 big bullet holes in one side. About 10 feet back from the point I had braked to a stop a nice new car was abandoned in the middle of the street with a bullet hole in the corner of the windshield on the driver's side. Somebody told me there was a dead black kid in the fountain in front of the retirement apartments but I didn't walk up the hill to see if it was true. That's all of that.

My step father also died rough. All I know is what I was later told because I didn't even know he was dead until I was financially forced to go back home. This Black Sheep was not wanted at the funeral.
Here's what happened. My step dad worked a retirement job a few hours each week at the neighbor's recycling plant. He was hard of hearing so one day he did not know a big forklift was coming. The forklift stopped very fast to avoid him, but that stop caused a heavy piece of steel to fall off and crush his leg.
Before going under for surgery my step father refused amputation because he didn't want to be a cripple. So after some surgery a surgeon came to Mom and told her that they could not stop the bleeding and he didn't have much time left. Any sensible person would have known it was a waste to pour new blood right thru him onto the table but Mom said " Well give him more blood. Beyond this point I don't know how much blood he was given, whether Mom finally call a stop to it, if somebody made the executive decision to stop, or they ran out of his blood type. Logically he finally bled out since he is dead now.
I am too tired to tell you any reasons why, many were posted elsewhere recently. Just please don't mention a mother's love or respecting elders. Yes she loves me but in the most destructive ways. I am 68 and have paid those moral responsibility premium many times with little or no returns.
She is my mother and I am her son. I am much older than her in wisdom and experience. But though I am an old man, chronologically I am 20 years younger. Actually I am a year younger than Donald Trump who is well and alive but I think I am now in my Golden Years. Several times it popped into my head that I would go to my grave on the same day, hour and minute that she goes and she still won't be happy because my tie is not straight. Really it's not, it's a gay tie LOL
I had precious little time with my real father. The Roman Numeral 2 I use in politics and everywhere except the VA is really an aka for I have not sent the $15 and documents to the State to add the numeral. But when I last talked to Dad we agreed on the 2. It honors and keeps Dad alive in me. It also honors me for it look cool and dignified and implies the we are Great since God made 2 of us. Also as a convenience having a 2 after my name stops people from constantly asking if I am Born Again LOL If I win an open door into the White House I will bare the 2 and bring Dad inside with me to show him around. Unlike my negative upbringing, my real father required little to be impressed. A quick glance at one page in one of my engineering texts brought loads of proud praise. My real father never needed the big opportunities that my step father and mother got. I could not tell them but they stood 10 feet from a big piece of Top Secret Kw equipment which did the last code scramble before it was transmitted to a B-52 loaded with nuclear bombs. They stood close to a F-16 fighter aircraft undergoing final assembly and testing.
I have not stopped typing food food and forgot my pills last night so two more lines and I quit.
I watched a video of ISIS beheadings and learned two things, why the heat raced thru my body so fast after the heart catheter was removed and why the ISIS victims did not fight back
I have a good and strong and beautiful woman who is with me all the way in whatever I do or try. But she is not here WITH me in America. After 4 years of trying if God prevents another problem we will soon havw money to pay her debts and fly to me. END