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GIN and Ironic
Point well taken, RF:) Stephanie was medium height, medium build, good looks, maximum bandwidth. Smarts- she had them. She shoved her dirty blonde bangs to the side of her forehead and peered intently at her superior, a silver haired gentlemen that though in his sixties was not grizzled and never would be. A knock was heard at the door. "Enter." said Stephanie's boss. The door opened and 'Tino Escudero sauntered in, dressed in an olive green short leather jacket that made him look like a bullfighter, slacks, and dress shoes. His black mane was combed back , ala Antonio Banderas. He was an Argentine operative whose, ahem, card was on loan to Langley. "Close the door behind you. Were you born in a barn?" said the boss. "I see you've read my dossier." said Tino, winningly, while closing the door. "Oh for God's sake. Mr. Escudero, this is Stephanie Clifton, you'll accompany her to South Africa. Stephanie, meet Tino Escudero." "How do you do." said Stephanie, noting the 'This is already getting more interesting' look in Tino's eye. "You'll be responsible for Ms. Clifton's safety and well being throughout the trip, though you'll receive breaks during the soccer matches when your consciousness will obviously be fused on the game, and you'd be useless as a bodyguard in any case.... Stephanie looked over toward her boss and gave him a significant look. He continued "Forget any pretense of machismo. Ms. Clifton will be in charge. However, in consideration of your massive Argentine ego, and miniscule Argentine pocketbook, its been decided to allow you to hold the credit card, and pay expenses." "As any gentleman would....I imagine." said Tino. "Yes, well, here you are." said the CIA case officer, holding out a platinum credit card to Tino. He took it and pulled out his wallet to stick it in. As he did, two slips of paper fell out, which Tino retrieved a little too quickly, the boss thought. "Whats that?" he demanded. "Nothing, eh, phone numbers-" said Tino. "Let me see." "No, its nothing." insisted Tino. "Give those notes to me now or I'll call security." Tino handed one of them over. The CIA case officer looked at it gravely, and said "A betting slip- Argentina to win the World Cup. Hmmm..." Tino shrugged and tried to smile, saying "A sentimental favorite- you understand, no?" "Only too well. The other betting slip. Give it." Tino winced and turned it over. The look on his face was not good. The boss reviewed it, and his face turned red. "England to beat USA in game one?!" "Its a longshot bet." said Tino, shrinking into his seat. "I should think so. Because we are going to beat England worse than we did in the Revolution, do you hear?" The Goals of Batistuta: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdjOo4rj66c— May 11, 2010 11:27 a.m.
GIN and Ironic
SOCCER MOM Stephanie Clifton was in the CIA. At the moment she was striding down an internal hallway in the CIA headquarters at Langley, Virginia. She entered the office of her superior, who bade her sit down. He said "Ms. Clifton, your next assignment will take you to South Africa, for the 2010 World Cup. Your mission is to gather valuable intelligence on the mood of the world. We wish for insight on the minds of men from other countries. Your on sight observations may prove valuable in the formulation of policy. What's important is that you provide accurate, detailed reports, untainted by bias or personal prejudice. If you think to pull punches for political reasons then you are in the wrong business. Politically tinged reports have no place in Central Intelligence Agency. Is that understood?" "Yes, sir." said Stephanie Clifton, simply. "Intelligence is a lifelong pursuit." said her superior, for emphasis. "I understand." "Very well. Now, I'm given to understand that your son, Kenworth, is quite the soccer player. How would it be if he were to accompany you to South Africa....for cover?" "Kenny?" asked Stephanie. "You appear to have reservations. I understand that this is an unusual request." "It's just that I wouldn't wish to be distracted from the performance of my duties by my responsibility as a parent." "The two go hand in hand. This is a safe mission." said her superior flatly. But Stephanie knew otherwise. Kenworth wasn't just a soccer superstar, he was a brilliant young genius, and her constant fear was that the company would take him away from her. Paul Simon - 'The Boy in the Bubble' Live in Africa: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GykbnvufIZE— May 11, 2010 12:24 a.m.
Creative Concepts
"Art is in the eye of the beholder." - Shakespeare I think art is something that transforms consciousness and elevates humanity. Its a connection with something divine, and its truly cool. And like David said, its about a creative process.— April 30, 2010 6:54 a.m.
Happy Pill
I would rather you try medical marijuana than get strung out on big pharm pills. Everyone is stressed, and its good that you feel your feelings, but you shouldnt feel like theres something wrong with you. One way or another, there are as many paths to happiness as there are people to walk the path. I have alot of confidence in you, Diva.— April 28, 2010 12:37 p.m.
Furry Children
EPILOGUE Memo Rodriguez arose from his seat, went to the door, opened it, shouted in Spanish, closed the door, turned to Don Wall and said "Pinche Donald. You always do this s***- get drunk and marijuano, start talking about how you a cop, and get a bad attitude. I know you a cop because you such an a**hole." Don Wall rubbed his face as Memo went back and sat down. There was some truth to the remark. He said "Mexicans are always badmouthing Mexico." "Yeah, but not in front of gringos. We do it ourselves, and anyway, thats not the point. You supposed to do what Americans do. I can´t believe you bring me that. Own what you say." There was a knock on the door, and a young lady brought in coffee service, then left. From the tray, the two cops made their coffee. It had a rich aroma, spiced with cinnamon. They drank coffee in silence. Finally, Memo said "You lucky you didn't know me before I join the force." "Yeah?" "Hell yeah. I was a satanist." "No way." said Don Wall flatly. "You think I'm lying? I prove it to you. I tattooed '666´above my lip. Look." Memo spread the hairs of his moustache. Don Wall peered closely and said "I don't see anything." "Ah, well, maybe they sevens." Don Wall broke out laughing. "Donaldo, lets call Tim Versace." "Why?" "Car sales are important. Everybody love their car in the Californias. My info is the car is just as important as a computer. Its a great tool and-" "Cut to the chase." "Thats rude, Donald. Interrupting someone one of the rudest things you can do." said Memo, diffidently. Obviously he wanted information. Don Wall looked at Memo, then pulled out his cellphone, made a call to information, and called Tim's dealership in National City. Veronica answered. "Veronica, this is Don Wall." "Hi, Don!" said Veronica. Don Wall always made her enthusiastic. For one thing, he spoke to her on peer to peer terms. For another thing, Don had a reputation Veronica admired. But ultimately, Veronica thought Don Wall was one cool dude.— April 21, 2010 4:23 p.m.
Furry Children
"Well, how would you characterize it?" asked Memo. "I think our problem is internal. Theres characters in the government that did the wrong thing, and don't want to be held accountable. They conspired with who knows who, and theres noone there to hold them accountable." said Don Wall. "Que no quieren pagar al fiscal?" asked Memo. (They don't want to pay the prosecutor?) "Yeah, they did the crime, but don't want to do the time." said Don Wall. "So they going to take the whole world down with them? Bulls***. That cannot be true." said Memo Rodriguez. Don Wall said "It is true. I'm a cop. You can't lie to me that much, or that easy. The government in the USA is rife with conspirators. All they want is their payday. Nothing more. That's why they got in the business, to get their payday." "Damn, so the Chinese going to have their way?" asked Memo. "The Chinese live on the other side of the world. The question is, what are we going to do? If you ask me, the USA is done, not because of China or anyone else, our republic bit the dust because rich countries do that." "So there's no hope then?" asked Memo. "Memo, why ask me for hope?" said Don Wall. THE END— April 15, 2010 11:04 p.m.
Furry Children
Don Wall looked around and then went in his premium Luftmeister slick leather riding jacket. "Do you mind?" he said to Memo Rodriguez. Memo knew Don Wall wanted to get high. Memo stood up and said "My wife not here, so its okay. But not here, come with me." The two cops went into Memo's study and Memo closed the door. Don Wall whipped out a jungle doob of California Chronic. "So, is that s*** anygood?" asked Memo, a little too casually. "You bet. Its called sticky situation. Here." said Don Wall, handing the fattie to Memo. Memo sparked it, puffed and passed. Before you know it the two were incredibly stoned, I mean Cheech and Chong stoned. They philosophised. Don Wall said "I'm going to take a week off, call in sick, and ride Baja." "Sweet. said Memo. "Hey Don, you want to drink a shot?" "Absolutely." The duo drank some more tequila, and Memo said "Hey Don, whats going on with Tim Versace and the Chinese fools?" "What?" asked Don Wall. "Versace, the Chevy salesman. I got info that he in Detroit right now, that he went to Copenhagen Conference, and before that he selling Volt pre-orders to the Chinese. I hear you seen everything." "You'll have to be more specific." said Don Wall, tentatively. "Okay, I got specifics." said Memo Rodriguez. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder. He opened it and pulled out a picture of Mystery Man. "You know this guy?" asked Memo. "All Asians look the same to me." said Don Wall, while he scrutinized the photograph. "No te hagas pendejo, Donald. Thats the Mystery Man. He a high ranking Chinese intelligence officer, and he very rich. He a master of martial arts, and he got a grandson. This man-" Memo pulled out a picture of Kato. "You know this guy?" asked Memo. "Thats Kato." said Don Wall. Obviously Memo had some intel, so a good faith proffer was in order. "He a super hero Chinese GI Joe like they say?" asked Memo. "Yeah, Memo." said Don Wall simply. Memo threw the pictures back in the folder brusquely and said "F***, Don what we going to do? Chinese going to kick everyones ass, huh?" "I wouldn't characterize the situation quite like that, Memo." said don Wall.— April 11, 2010 3:18 p.m.
Furry Children
Memo Rodriguez was kicking back, and grabbed a glass. He poured several fingers of Tequila into it, swirled it, and took a sip. He regarded Don Wall narrowly. He said "Don, I know that we are just personnel assigned to do our jobs. I have some ideas to communicate, I'm sure they should provide benefit. First thing, 'Viva Mexico.' You copy that?" "Yeah, for sure." said Don Wall. "Good, 'cause my kids not going to grow up speaking Chinese, I want to assure you of that. I not even sure they need English, you feel where I come from, compadre?" "Yeah." said Don Wall. "Estoy para Mexico, Don Wall." said Memo Rodriguez, taking a swig from his tequila. The stereo played more gabacho music. "Another thing, Don, 'cause I know you a good listener-" "Yeah, whats that?" asked Don Wall. "All that Harry Potter Bull sh%t, don't mean nothing to me. Im a cop, and every day my mission is to get people home safe, and at the end of patrol, get myself home safe. I pay no attention to the stupid stuff." "Straight." said Don Wall simply. "Chief of Police just got off the phone with me, you know what he say? He say if everywhere in the world go crazy, Mexico not going crazy, Mexico not going nowhere. The more instability elsewhere, the better reason to have stability in Mexico. Commitment, Don Wall." Just then, the Social D played, loudly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8eyeIwUmpM— April 8, 2010 3:06 p.m.
Furry Children
Don Wall and Memo Rodriguez walked into Memo's backyard. There was a bunch of TJ motorcycle cops mingling with street bikers and Ducati riders. The air was redolent with juicy carne asada, and music playing. People were conversing, hanging out. When the food was out, there followed bottles of the good, white tequila. Shots were downed, with wedges of lime back up. None paid any special attention to the Donald, nor Don Wall to anyone else. It was a cool party, and afterwards, the bike ride would be on. Don Wall swigged from a bottle of good tequila, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The DJ was putting on some gabacho music, loud. Don looked at Memo, who just looked back. 'What a cool Mexican,' thought Don Wall. Don and Memo had known each other since the 90s, and trust had developed over the years. The Social D played as the men relaxed: "...So take me down the road Take me to the show It’s something to believe in That no one else knows But don’t take me for granted..." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdZb2inh4YM— April 8, 2010 11:44 a.m.
Furry Children
In front of Memo´s pad was a bunch of motorcycles. There were police specials, a few street bikes, and at the end of the parking cluster, a number of expensive Ducatis. It was a big party. Don Wall parked his bike, and went to Memos pad. The gated entry was open, and kids were scurrying about, playing. When Don Wall got inside the gate, a TJ cop friend of Memo´s was at the door. Don Wall checked his weapon, grabbed a cold beer of Tecate, and entered the living room. Memo's wife was usuually there to greet him, but today there were a bunch of heads, and Memo was in the back, in the kitchen. Don nodded at everyone, made his way to the kitchen, and saw Memo. He was on the phone striding back and forth. "Si, jefe. Si, jefe. Claro. Claro. Entendido." said Memo, who then hung up, sighed loudly and looked at Don Wall. The look said everything. Memo had been talking to the Tijuana Chief of Police. That dude. That very real dude that everyone had heard about. "Don Wall, how are you?" said Memo, hanging up the phone. "Bien compadre, gracias a Dios." said Don Wall. "Then you doing better than me. Come on, lets relax, eat something, we figure this out. Too much things happening, Don, you know?" said Memo Rodriguez. Don Wall downed his Tecate, and gave Memo an abrazo. They slapped each other on the back hard, twice. The two cops went toward the barbeque to get a taco. People were everywhere, and the music was pumping 'Tucanes de Tijuana.'— April 6, 2010 10:20 a.m.