Excrementous Adventures in Wacky Land
Excrementous Adventures in Wacky Land
High speak attempt. Failed.
Fame fucks with you.
...Infamy is WAY more fun.
Bosnia taught me what Hate looks like.
I'm expert-level good at that, too.
Don't hate the human. Hate the hate.
Can't say I'm not doing the work. Slag and slavery that it is, dealing with niggers
My sons were likely at that shooting in K.C. yesterday. I've stood on that spot. I worked there. Not much. My son spent a BUNCH of time in the Children's Mercy Hospital there. They saved his life, indeed. Let's hope Kevin didn't have to return yesterday. All those surgeries in his infancy were hard. I'm thinking about the people I knew who were probably there, certainly there, etc. Jim. John. Chad. all Radio news guys. Royals radio guys. Chiefs booth-and-stat, Zack Grienke John Buck Johnny Damon. The newsroom from the Associated Press, many news photogs.The Chicks. She was a DJ, after all. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. Lee Dorsey said "What's poison to you might be medicine to me Baby." Very Funky. Everything I'm gone do from now on gone be funky. Everything gonna be funky. Ask Ricardo about his toughness and it's inspiration to me. Kinda like E-speak.
Epicaricacy - Rejoicing at or deriving pleasure from the misfortunes of others.
Thanks be to Zeus, or [-Hell-] Satan! This sensation is some kind of Schadenfreude… Y’know - 'harm-joy' - pleasure derived from the misfortune of another. …But it’s better somehow. More desirable. I’ve met the hotter, younger kid sister of schadenfreude, and she puts out. Huzzah! She is the dragon slayer of – aggression, rivalry, and justice. Poor American military veterans can be assholes, too. And still, my limited scope and experience tells me that the worst person in the world is the African-American person. Not all blacks. Not by a far cry. Mostly not even the black women.
Peter H. and Heather H. were there, for sure - Earl. No doubt about it. You can trust me Brother. Working press, to be sure. Roxanne H.? Tell me which race these folks are. They taught me just like you did, Earl. They just had more time, more opportunities. That's all.
Unethical. Immature. Insanely delusional. Just plain dumb. Any person who is other-than-African-American who spends enough time in their midst will soon become like them. Talking, thinking, acting like sub-human shit-for-brains and failing victim to the fools paradise of self satisfaction that they only suck shit for life because Whitey made them do so. They are shit. They are so full of shit that their eyes and skin are brown. Their thoughts, deeds, motivations and decision-making are all for shit.
"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. No one but us can free our minds." Bob Marley. Not a stuck on stupid shit-for-brains.
The black African diaspora worldwide shares many woes. The African-American negro (and the male of the species, particularly) is an idiot. By and large, black African American people are caught in a profound intellectual willing-disability - indeed, a moral disability - where the mental age is far from any mature norm. Stupid. Uneducated. Crude. Ignorant. A black guy from Munich and a lovely young African woman in London look at you like you're an alien from outer-space. Lamp Monster?
I've asked so many black folks: I'm a homeless old drunk vet. Why am I so frightening to you?" ...Dey love language mus' be jive. Oh. And freedom. Some folks jus' get spooked, shall we say- by being free.
My sense of humor may seem sardonic to you. Black American veterans are perhaps 99% sadists. Very, very stupid sadists. Mind you, though - you'll forgive my flaw only in exchange for seeing the insane Kabuki (political theater - *ahem* a synonym for socio-political posturing) insight to the cruel dumb silly drama carried out in real life in a predictable or stylized fashion around me by people who are so confused about their place, role and potential contribution to any sort of social fabric that they say "white privilege" when what they really mean is "Wow, are we porch-monkeys fucking stupid." You can aks any nigger to play tricks on any Honky. The trouble starts when you actually aks them, and they try. Then they fail. Heterodoxymorons if you will.
Can't believe these Ku Klux Kunts expect me to trust them in any way. Post "Tierrarism". You're trapped like (not rats, they're smart, cunning). You're trapped like carrots. You're STILL reading?
You make me racist you dumb slattern. Sorry for the big words, Bish.
Stupid Things I Gotta Do on Thursday 2/15: Throw this fucking fone RIGHT in the bay. Ha! Black people R dumb.No point in talking when nobody's listening. No. I won't be COMMUNICATING with Joel Hunt. Ha ha ha. Black folks are dumb. Peanut Head.Self-satisfaction, like self-improvement, says Tyler Durden, is masturbation. When a self-actualization follows a singular sort of self-destruction - well folks - that’s what we call progress. New Growth. Racism is ignorance plus fear equals verbs. This shit is real. A Ucalegon (in the terms of woke horse shit and white privilege buffoonery) for someone with low self-esteem, someone who is more successful poses a threat to their sense of self. A Ucalegon (a disadvantaged black man) here is the neighbor whose house is on fire or has burned down. I will never hesitate to hate. So long as these freak idiot fucktard assholes continue to fuck with white American military veterans - just because - well ... Uhhh- Let's say "slavery." YEAH. That's the ticket.
Omar is a fag. Big dumb CUNT. My son, who is half-Hispanic is tougher than you. T guy is a fag. Big dumb CUNT. I'd name that queer homo gay queen but... Fag CUNT Dummy will say it all. Remember what Neo (Sorry, Nio) said? Were you listening Ross, Russ, Curly and Mo.
No, wait. It's Woke. No, no no - it's Colored People. No, it's African American. I forgot I was Irish before I was ten. Before puberty I knew egalitarianism. We're people.
Knee Grows. Stupid, trapped little faggots. Only you have they key to your restraints. No white man is ever going to point out that if you made the cuffs, you have to be the one who holds the keys, pal.
Extremism, as the old chestnut says in defense of liberty is no vice. Black African Americans are not the only stupid people ever born. Nor does one require African-American credentials to be a nigger. A nigger, as far as I can tell, is somebody who always thinks someone or some thing outside of them is always the problem. Incorrectly. Or, for the mental midgets among us - it takes being one to name one.
Eat shit, pound sand up your ass Die. Better men than I will die. Ain't no time to Hate. Barely time to wait, as they say. Niggers.
See the entries on “wigger” and “White-Boy” [Come for the race hate and mental malfunctions - STAY for the spelling, grammar etc. etc. "A turm used To demasulate a White man By inplying that other races of men are men and whites are boys!' or '...Any White man who allows Him self to be called a white Boy by so called friends or associates is week and lacks self esteam and deserves exploitaion by all means...'.) Urban Dictionary has this excellent example:
racist
White Power is racist; the movement seeks to gain and maintain supremacy, not equality.
Black Power and other non-white power movements are striving for equality.
Non-white Americans can be bigoted or hateful but NEVER racist for they do not have the historical power/pretext..
NOTE: Black Americans, Asian-Americans, Indian-Americans, Latino-Americans and any non-white American cannot be racist; no matter what they do, they do not have the power to remove freedoms from white Americans or disadvantage white Americans socially, economically, politically, etc..
Niggers act like this is my first rodeo. It is not. Nor will it be the last. African American people think they can throw me off. Imbeciles. You are shit. I disregard you for the shit you are. Toxic waste. ...Gives a WHOLE 'nuther meaning to therm "Smoked Out" don't it? When one thinks one is under surveillance, one should - at all times - act accordingly. An Army of one. An Andy of one. One love. One ❤️ Heart. One mind. One SOUL. MUH THUH FUCK AHHHH - The onliest words Left: "...uh. I dunno."
It's as if they think I've never been toe-to-toe with great minds, great men and women, great Americans. I don't wish to bore you with an exhaustive list.
Hey. Mention it to whats-her-name at VS-90 chided me once: "Stop trying to teach people things." ...and stuff. Least of all about...
Like, uh... Alicia or Patricia or Letitia she's a bish-uh. They all look the same to me.
Any WHITE man who cites interviews for nationwide broadcasts from interviews done without nets involving both U.S. Supreme Court Justice Steven Breyer and the Reverend Jesse Jackson (ON THE SAME DAY) should probably not need to elaborate. That's if you trust that man. The Supreme Allied Commander of Europe sure did.
No nigger ever has. They think any fucking honky will just take them at their word. Do any stupid, counter-intuitive horse shit they say - no matter how ridiculous - because ...y'know, - slavery. ...Like three-hundred and fifty years ago. Or something.
Rachel Dolezal, the former head of an NAACP chapter who resigned after mispresenting herself as Black in 2015 and now goes by the name Nkechi Diallo, was fired from her position as an after-school instructor in Tucson, AZ when her presence on OnlyFans came to light. What do you think?
“Okay, but who will deeply confuse the children now?”
TERRELL DICKINSON, CONTRACT TERMINATOR
“Sorry, it’s a bad thing for kids to learn about the importance of multiple income streams?”
MARI GIBBS, KIOSK ARCHITECT
“Aside from that, she was the perfect person to instruct children.”
MAHAD MCDONNELL, FREELANCE TRAINEE
Fuck slavery and fuck black people. I hope you all go die, and I get to watch you suffer. I didn't even go to college. You're just a fucktard. Cant's take it, Boy?
I will never hesitate to hate. I am getting to the point where I will not hesitate to kill. Whereupon, I will kill a random nigger and carve YOUR NAME on their skull. Then you can make excuses, hack my email, hire shit-nigger thugs to intimidate me. I will kill Carter Piercy. Nigger. I will take Juan's eyes. I will cut mustafa that fucking jungle-bunny until he dies. Don't dish - Bish. ...Who's PARANOID Now, Love? ...Negress.
I'm pretty sure I was like that once. When I was a baby.
And I will dance in the viscera they leave behind. Hear that, Earl?
You black fucks deserve each and every injustice that will ever come to you. Even after you have all been annihilated, we we talk smack about you, call you nasty names and dance upon your charred graves, shitting and pissing all over you.
Elsewhere in today's news... Al-Farabi National University in Almaty, Kazakhstan lists which female students are virgins before leaking it online. Sounds kinda black, right?
Like this is. In real time. Viewing live screen.
It's like Mike says: "Somebody trying to get you goat. Shoot the fucking goat." Mike is my A.A. sponsor. None of this was his idea.
...How duh ya like me NOW motherfuckers? Me and my fresh-kill goat?I'm Pro-Palestinian, too. Why? Ask Mike Wallace. Call it like you see it? Ask Peter Jennings. I'm through hurting. Are you? I'm free, too.
Stupid Cooze Coon. I don't need to learn any more about what a disappointment black people are. Nobody benefits from your continued dumb fuckery. Least of all y'all. Don't hate the human. Hate the hate.
If you don't hate Trump, Rocket 🚀 Man, Bashir al Assad, Satan Bin Laden, Hitler and Putin equally, you're doing it wrong. Drive defensively? Try going OFFENSIVELY.
The Betoota Advocate reminds us: "Unless some sort of issue arises with a lack racial diversity amongst the guests speakers at these Rebellion protests, he’s not really gonna look at them any closer than he looked at the Jussie Smollett incident." ...and people say we can believe the press. Well, Niggers say that, but don't fall for everything you hear on the internet.
Two bed-bug spraying exterminators, a man and a woman, entered my room. Sounds like a setup to a joke.
I’m serious. ‘If you can’t imagine a book or a movie here, I can't help you, friend.’ The Vets will laugh last.
The place was trashed. Twice. Beds thrown everywhere. My belongings and Earl’s belongings strewn every which way, and it was up to me to fix it, and explain to Earl why - according to staff - even though it seemed OK, - but it still bugged me. I struggle to trust.
Then I ask the staff, “Is there a better way we can do this? It’s not this room that has any bed-bugs.” It’s a room nearby, and the crew has to spray both adjacent rooms, on either side, because the bedbugs migrate, they say. But the crew never repairs the damage. Your staff despises me because I'm racist. Remember Mr. Robinson? No bed-bug problem when HE ran the show. …Did they get the bugs this time? I can’t get a straight answer.
One day, my P.T.S.D. tells me - one day some of our stuff will go missing or get broken. Worry… or trust? Half the people here have been told I hate Black people. No. I hate stupid people.
It’s a simple question of trust. Who can I trust - and does anyone trust me? Even Earl looks at me more skeptically.
We deal with people who have keys to our room, and go in there and do things. Keys give people power and access. He shrugs at this. But I still think there’s a better answer. Carelessness? Everybody makes mistakes Right?
The key (or keys) in this example in the room shares a certain symbolism with other authorities here and situations coming about elsewhere in the same facility. Think of Mustafa. Nobody should trust Mr. Mustafa with security or keys. Ever
They have keys. Staff, security, drivers. They have access and they have the power to make decisions which might affect Earl and me. And when I cannot get a straight answer, consequences arise out of other, circumstantial, anecdotal examples of what it’s like to be the one who has to choose between the hard right of “trust, don’t worry” in this safe haven on Gaffey Street. With P.T.S.D.
I have been misled before. I have been punished unjustly before. I have seen the power of gossip, lies and other consequences at other V.O.A. properties like this one. It’s sad. It’s subtle. It is misguided and unfair. I see it as revolving around race, but, again, I struggle to trust. And this jungle of rules, red tape, acronyms and simple, silly inability to plan or even communicate doesn't help in the world of nonprofit agencies’ shoestring budgets. To be perfectly clear, I speak of my own shortcomings here, too. COVID brain fog. Alcoholic thinking. I've been burned.
Don’t forget that most people don’t like being called on their bull. Point the finger at the wrong person in the organization, and either they turn on you - taking away the keys to your ride to Social Security or to the hospital. In a worst-case scenario here - they can take away the keys to our room, and to the food they serve. They make threats.
It’s been since 2012 I’ve sought housing, employment, a way forward. I need to trust the system, they say. Get along to go along, and if some random bureaucrat either can’t (or just won’t) answer your question, or help to guide you through the rules and regs, oh-well. Sucks to be you, VETERAN. No matter if some frustrated worker secretly takes revenge on you just for the hatred they feel for their work. I’d like to say I’ve seen it a thousand times, - but it’s far more than that. Or like some other over-simplification like many vets do assume (and do so in writing as I do now) and too many vets conclude freely, but only privately: Simple. It’s about race. Ego is always a problem. Money is part of it too.
The driver accused me of being ungrateful for the services provided free to the vets. He asked - verbatim and I quote - “Did you guys pay your transportation fee?” My buddy Jeremy was there to catch that one for me. Before I could speak - he said - verbatim and I quote: “Yep. Six years and seven months active duty” He said a mouthful.
The accusing driver, a man named Bill, retorted “I mean did you pay me to drive you around?" He didn't even get his own heresy. He spat in our faces. Look up 'gaffe'.
And like they say, even a blind squirrel finds a nut of truth or maybe even a morsel of irony once in a while. He swore to us that Ms. Tierra Condiff was the one to trust if we needed answers. "She will investigate."
They make us sign a release when we eat a piece of pizza.
Accountability and all that jazz. Everybody gets their fair share of the pie, so to speak. Nobody is reselling hot, whole pizzas out the back door - pocketing the change. They’re donated or they’re taxpayer funded.Either deserves the gratitude of accountability.
Accountability is not foreign to this place. It is not new to these people. If not selectively. Some of these people were subject to life in social and rehabilitative programs just like this one.
But they can not, or will not put a sticky note on your door to give you a heads up that says “Hey. Your room lock will be useless today. All of your belongings will be vulnerable when strangers enter your room while you’re gone”. That’s just… way too much accountability. Oof.
‘Room checks are coming on Monday. Be prepared.’ Room inspections are routine. So are photo opportunities with local politicians. Which one do you think carries more accountability? If my room is left unlocked and unguarded, somebody could plant a weapon, drugs or other contraband. Yes, real live human people have been smuggled into them, for God-knows-whatever reason.
But if it is a photographic image of some smiling vet sidling up to the next states-person whistle-stopper to slither up on Gaffey Street to press flesh and break bread with not just Joe Sixpack, but a real live American veteran - At Christmas? Like ducks to water, these cretins.
They’re usually ready with a quick release for the vets to sign. Make it all legal-schmeagle. A boilerplate Hold-Harmless Agreement. It’s a publicity thing. Name, image and likeness. It is a tacit endorsement for whatever purpose; vote; fundraising, policy issues. This level of accountability is one of the levels of selective accountability V.O.A. can abide. Consistently.
Yes. We deal with people who have keys to our rooms. Keys give people power and access. They need keys to operate the van/vehicle Volunteers of America uses to convey veterans to Vetearn’s Administration hospital appointments.
Gas is expensive. Plus, there’s safety, insurance, vehicle maintenance, maybe even parking, or tolls. It’s a simple question of trust. Who can I trust - and does anyone trust me? Keep in mind, I deal with P.T.S.D.. Right? They have a log book for mileage in the vehicle. Some gas cards let you pay for postage with them.
Somehow I missed a Urology appointment (with a urologist whose name is - wait for it - Dr. Wi - and no I am not making this up. ) It was back on January 2nd, a Tuesday in 2024, if memory serves. No driver to get me to the West L.A. VA hospital in time for me to be on time.
That van went somewhere on Tuesday, January 2nd, 2024. Maybe we should have the vets SIGN THE VAN LOG BOOK TO ENHANCE THAT LAYER OF ACCOUNTABILITY.
Heck, even write up a document that says ‘...from experience no rides happen on Saturday. The unemployment office is within walking distance if you're able. Certain typical, predictable Social Security appointments happen on Saturday. There are two drivers. It is here to serve vets.” There are regs, too
Bill told me he supports a side business. I bet free gas and a free driver would be very helpful to his profit margins, there and to the side-businesses of everybody else Bill knows who does the same. Gas and insurance are wicked spendy.
Veterans miss all sorts of appointments all the time at all sorts of social and wellness services beyond the V.A. and especially in proximity to vet-centered non-profits like the properties of Volunteers of America in the Greater Los Angeles area. US Vets. New Directions for Veterans. The Salvation Army in the very name of the late Hon. Judge Harry Pregerson. All either guilty or at least vulnerable.
Fraud, waste and abuse. Of vets. On vets. Against vets. Even by vets For profit. At a non-profit org. Where traffic is always a GREAT excuse, Vets are not getting to their medical appointments aboard a van using gas and man-hours that were either donated to Volunteers of America or are funded by U.S. tax dollars. So they blame the vets. The drunks. The homeless. Lazy, surly wretched refuse - that lot.
Speaking as a vet we're just as likely to be at fault for missing appointments or blowing through a pick-up-point-and time. We forget. We ask forgiveness before asking permission.
Some of us have limited mental faculties. I am an alcoholic. I like the sauce. What if the van is driving for WeedMaps? Why the Hell not? Bill made it clear that he values his money over veterans. Who else should I trust? Bill took just 1,100 times longer to get me there, - not too far, now - to that other appointment - to drop a vet off at our sister VOA office on Breed Street first - but that's all in the vehicle accountability log. Right?
I think Ms. Tierra Condiff should look into this. After all, Bill himself recommended her. Or, let somebody - Like maybe the very nice county Supervisor I spoke to at that party - or maybe the F.B.I. Because somebody has some explaining to do.
…But don't ask Bill. He's just a lowly driver who can only do what the caseworker tells him to do. His words. Not mine. Just like the promise of Lincoln.
It oughta take maybe twenty minutes. Not that day. Four hours plus.
Seriously, Bill. It took Tojo less than half that time to wipe out the US Pacific fleet. I don't hate anybody with a tad bit of common sense. You can trust me. How many men died?
How many wear the underpants you peddle in spite of vets? Consider yourself pantsed. Sometimes, pally - you gotta do things by the book. At all times, do it by His book. As Job will tell you:
“The Devil is in the details.”
…Good luck with that.
You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Bill. God is my C.O. - Jesus is my First Sergeant.
Roger that, Muh - thuh - fuck - ahhh.
I’m serious. ‘If you can’t imagine a book or a movie here, I can't help you, friend.’ The Vets will laugh last.
The place was trashed. Twice. Beds thrown everywhere. My belongings and Earl’s belongings strewn every which way, and it was up to me to fix it, and explain to Earl why - according to staff - even though it seemed OK, - but it still bugged me. I struggle to trust.
Then I ask the staff, “Is there a better way we can do this? It’s not this room that has any bed-bugs.” It’s a room nearby, and the crew has to spray both adjacent rooms, on either side, because the bedbugs migrate, they say. But the crew never repairs the damage. Your staff despises me because I'm racist. Remember Mr. Robinson? No bed-bug problem when HE ran the show. …Did they get the bugs this time? I can’t get a straight answer.
One day, my P.T.S.D. tells me - one day some of our stuff will go missing or get broken. Worry… or trust? Half the people here have been told I hate Black people. No. I hate stupid people.
It’s a simple question of trust. Who can I trust - and does anyone trust me? Even Earl looks at me more skeptically.
We deal with people who have keys to our room, and go in there and do things. Keys give people power and access. He shrugs at this. But I still think there’s a better answer. Carelessness? Everybody makes mistakes Right?
The key (or keys) in this example in the room shares a certain symbolism with other authorities here and situations coming about elsewhere in the same facility. Think of Mustafa. Nobody should trust Mr. Mustafa with security or keys. Ever
They have keys. Staff, security, drivers. They have access and they have the power to make decisions which might affect Earl and me. And when I cannot get a straight answer, consequences arise out of other, circumstantial, anecdotal examples of what it’s like to be the one who has to choose between the hard right of “trust, don’t worry” in this safe haven on Gaffey Street. With P.T.S.D.
I have been misled before. I have been punished unjustly before. I have seen the power of gossip, lies and other consequences at other V.O.A. properties like this one. It’s sad. It’s subtle. It is misguided and unfair. I see it as revolving around race, but, again, I struggle to trust. And this jungle of rules, red tape, acronyms and simple, silly inability to plan or even communicate doesn't help in the world of nonprofit agencies’ shoestring budgets. To be perfectly clear, I speak of my own shortcomings here, too. COVID brain fog. Alcoholic thinking. I've been burned.
Don’t forget that most people don’t like being called on their bull. Point the finger at the wrong person in the organization, and either they turn on you - taking away the keys to your ride to Social Security or to the hospital. In a worst-case scenario here - they can take away the keys to our room, and to the food they serve. They make threats.
It’s been since 2012 I’ve sought housing, employment, a way forward. I need to trust the system, they say. Get along to go along, and if some random bureaucrat either can’t (or just won’t) answer your question, or help to guide you through the rules and regs, oh-well. Sucks to be you, VETERAN. No matter if some frustrated worker secretly takes revenge on you just for the hatred they feel for their work. I’d like to say I’ve seen it a thousand times, - but it’s far more than that. Or like some other over-simplification like many vets do assume (and do so in writing as I do now) and too many vets conclude freely, but only privately: Simple. It’s about race. Ego is always a problem. Money is part of it too.
The driver accused me of being ungrateful for the services provided free to the vets. He asked - verbatim and I quote - “Did you guys pay your transportation fee?” My buddy Jeremy was there to catch that one for me. Before I could speak - he said - verbatim and I quote: “Yep. Six years and seven months active duty” He said a mouthful.
The accusing driver, a man named Bill, retorted “I mean did you pay me to drive you around?" He didn't even get his own heresy. He spat in our faces. Look up 'gaffe'.
And like they say, even a blind squirrel finds a nut of truth or maybe even a morsel of irony once in a while. He swore to us that Ms. Tierra Condiff was the one to trust if we needed answers. "She will investigate."
They make us sign a release when we eat a piece of pizza.
Accountability and all that jazz. Everybody gets their fair share of the pie, so to speak. Nobody is reselling hot, whole pizzas out the back door - pocketing the change. They’re donated or they’re taxpayer funded.Either deserves the gratitude of accountability.
Accountability is not foreign to this place. It is not new to these people. If not selectively. Some of these people were subject to life in social and rehabilitative programs just like this one.
But they can not, or will not put a sticky note on your door to give you a heads up that says “Hey. Your room lock will be useless today. All of your belongings will be vulnerable when strangers enter your room while you’re gone”. That’s just… way too much accountability. Oof.
‘Room checks are coming on Monday. Be prepared.’ Room inspections are routine. So are photo opportunities with local politicians. Which one do you think carries more accountability? If my room is left unlocked and unguarded, somebody could plant a weapon, drugs or other contraband. Yes, real live human people have been smuggled into them, for God-knows-whatever reason.
But if it is a photographic image of some smiling vet sidling up to the next states-person whistle-stopper to slither up on Gaffey Street to press flesh and break bread with not just Joe Sixpack, but a real live American veteran - At Christmas? Like ducks to water, these cretins.
They’re usually ready with a quick release for the vets to sign. Make it all legal-schmeagle. A boilerplate Hold-Harmless Agreement. It’s a publicity thing. Name, image and likeness. It is a tacit endorsement for whatever purpose; vote; fundraising, policy issues. This level of accountability is one of the levels of selective accountability V.O.A. can abide. Consistently.
Yes. We deal with people who have keys to our rooms. Keys give people power and access. They need keys to operate the van/vehicle Volunteers of America uses to convey veterans to Vetearn’s Administration hospital appointments.
Gas is expensive. Plus, there’s safety, insurance, vehicle maintenance, maybe even parking, or tolls. It’s a simple question of trust. Who can I trust - and does anyone trust me? Keep in mind, I deal with P.T.S.D.. Right? They have a log book for mileage in the vehicle. Some gas cards let you pay for postage with them.
Somehow I missed a Urology appointment (with a urologist whose name is - wait for it - Dr. Wi - and no I am not making this up. ) It was back on January 2nd, a Tuesday in 2024, if memory serves. No driver to get me to the West L.A. VA hospital in time for me to be on time.
That van went somewhere on Tuesday, January 2nd, 2024. Maybe we should have the vets SIGN THE VAN LOG BOOK TO ENHANCE THAT LAYER OF ACCOUNTABILITY.
Heck, even write up a document that says ‘...from experience no rides happen on Saturday. The unemployment office is within walking distance if you're able. Certain typical, predictable Social Security appointments happen on Saturday. There are two drivers. It is here to serve vets.” There are regs, too
Bill told me he supports a side business. I bet free gas and a free driver would be very helpful to his profit margins, there and to the side-businesses of everybody else Bill knows who does the same. Gas and insurance are wicked spendy.
Veterans miss all sorts of appointments all the time at all sorts of social and wellness services beyond the V.A. and especially in proximity to vet-centered non-profits like the properties of Volunteers of America in the Greater Los Angeles area. US Vets. New Directions for Veterans. The Salvation Army in the very name of the late Hon. Judge Harry Pregerson. All either guilty or at least vulnerable.
Fraud, waste and abuse. Of vets. On vets. Against vets. Even by vets For profit. At a non-profit org. Where traffic is always a GREAT excuse, Vets are not getting to their medical appointments aboard a van using gas and man-hours that were either donated to Volunteers of America or are funded by U.S. tax dollars. So they blame the vets. The drunks. The homeless. Lazy, surly wretched refuse - that lot.
Speaking as a vet we're just as likely to be at fault for missing appointments or blowing through a pick-up-point-and time. We forget. We ask forgiveness before asking permission.
Some of us have limited mental faculties. I am an alcoholic. I like the sauce. What if the van is driving for WeedMaps? Why the Hell not? Bill made it clear that he values his money over veterans. Who else should I trust? Bill took just 1,100 times longer to get me there, - not too far, now - to that other appointment - to drop a vet off at our sister VOA office on Breed Street first - but that's all in the vehicle accountability log. Right?
I think Ms. Tierra Condiff should look into this. After all, Bill himself recommended her. Or, let somebody - Like maybe the very nice county Supervisor I spoke to at that party - or maybe the F.B.I. Because somebody has some explaining to do.
…But don't ask Bill. He's just a lowly driver who can only do what the caseworker tells him to do. His words. Not mine. Just like the promise of Lincoln.
It oughta take maybe twenty minutes. Not that day. Four hours plus.
Seriously, Bill. It took Tojo less than half that time to wipe out the US Pacific fleet. I don't hate anybody with a tad bit of common sense. You can trust me. How many men died?
How many wear the underpants you peddle in spite of vets? Consider yourself pantsed. Sometimes, pally - you gotta do things by the book. At all times, do it by His book. As Job will tell you:
“The Devil is in the details.”
…Good luck with that.
You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Bill. God is my C.O. - Jesus is my First Sergeant.
Roger that, Muh - thuh - fuck - ahhh.
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