Dear Mr. Chivaro, as the chief lawyer of the person who controls the purse-strings of the 7th largest economy in the world, your words, “we will…” continue to resonate. More importantly,  “agree=ING to disagree” [sic] is not in my vocabulary nor is it part of my nature.

 

Last night I was at a local pub grabbing a “byte” [sic] to eat and ran into a guy by the name of Richie who I first met several months back when I expressed sum viewpoints on the state of the economy which recently “boiled down tTOo my” [sic] email to the folks at the Fox Network.

 

Unlike you, “Richie Rich” [sic], doesn’t work for me butt by the end of the evening he was a white as a kite? Had they [he and his buddy] also been Jewish we probably would have had a blood bath by “sunrise” [sic]. That didn’t stop him from “showering” [sic] his frustration at not following through on my suggestions when we first met when he was a much more happy go “luky” [sic] guy and I had yet to leave on my second trip this year to South America. Naturally there are other folks a lot more angry with themselves other than “Poor little Richie” who does seem to be able to hold down a decent paying job despite his 401K- “Mart continuing to go down the tubes” [sic]. What really got to me though was not so much his whining as much as his self-assured contention,

 

“No matter what; I know, Governor Davis knows, and I know you know, nothing will come out of it!”

 

I then asked his male companion, a pretty big black guy who also works out, to make note of “Poor little Richies last wor-l-ds who” [sic] then proceeded to provide me with a 90 second dissertation of why it is okay to “agree to disagree.”

 

The other evening I demonstrated that I could hold my breath that long and then sum. It was part of my effort to impress my travel companion and our friend Paul who is a top athlete that I am in “at least as good a condition as I was back when I was playing tackle rugby” which was sum 30 years ago. Last night, however, was proof positive that I can go at least another 30 seconds without coming up for air. Even when I thought he was about to come up for air I only spoke once a pregnant pause took hold, bait, line and sinker.

 

This picture of our Jonathan was taken just the other day shortly before his mother broke the news to his father that another 50 ft of line had disappeared into the wind. This very worldly woman is catching a new wind each and every day. I have though been encouraging Jonathan to pick up tangled line as not every bird finds a safe spot to land, to mention little of my new 88 year young friend whose “sun” [sic] Gary has the caring hand.

 

Its been a while since I couldn’t get a “world in edge ways” [sic] butt the black guy had this rap going that had me so mesmerized I couldn’t remember a thing he said although in an effort to lower his blood pressure I said, “I think I got about 50% of what you said.” From there everything went to the “gods” [sic]. Butt I kept giving him the floor as well as enough rope to hang himself. We were at a corner section of the bar and neither of us were inclined to back up even though I had perhaps the best looking woman on my tail which seemed to jive with my pointing out that neither of them seemed to prevent their formal education “intereferring” [sic] with their learning.

 

And to top it off I threw in the race card letting them know that executor of my estate is a black guy, at which point I knew I was testing the limits of my dexterities thinking at sum point whether my dog was going to save the day. Pypeetoe, however, was tied up. That pitching-wedge-leash you see next to him on the bed still remains with Roger Hedgecock. Swoosh as he is also known “and is” [sic] the lighter of our dogs. For sum time my travel companion has contended he is gay although lately she says he is becoming more masculine.

 

Now I can assure you I never mentioned the word “gay” butt who knows “weather” [sic] they both had been reading my mind that had already drifted to this beautiful young woman who was now rubbing shoulders with me. In all likelihood I was simply starting to lean back making certain I had a full set of lungs in the event either one of them landed a solid punch knocking me all the way into the Pacific ocean which was really no more than a stones throw away. At age 45 I still have a pretty good arm. Take a look at an email I sent out yesterday afternoon the first of the days disturbance. I have titled it Perfect Storm VII.

 

Right now it is raining cats and dogs and this isn’t even the rainy season, so what do you make of that? As I have stated time and again butt it is worth repeating; the problems of the world have nothing to do with economics, religion, “blah blah blab” [sic] but the taxation of those very young by the worst of the politicians who don’t all become Governors of the State of California butt they leave just as dirty a mark.

 

It is the white lies that start stacking up from when we are very young, stacks that in large measure might as well be full of hash, wouldn’t you agree? Do you Mr. top hound dog law enforcer support the introduction of drug testing for those who raise children? Remember now Federal Law still has smoking “Mart-Ka-yarn-a” [sic] a crime. What about children empowering children with antidotes when they get it shoved up the backside by a parent when the drug pusher eventually decides to move on to a “phatter” [sic] score? What if I could provide all this without it costing the taxpayers one single dime?

 

With or without you “agreeing or agreeing to disagree” we will at NextraTerrestrial be providing such measures, “force de choke” [sic]. Stay Tuned.

 

On my most recent trip to South America one of my Peruvian partners was telling me about how some people can play the flute continuously while breathing; that it is all a question of practice. I believed Alvaro since I had no reason to distrust anything he said. I couldn’t believe, however, what these two guys eventually had to say to this lady when I went over to write down some of the things they had said and pay the bill. For sum reason they felt the need to water down the discussion as they got the bartender to pour on the alcohol, contending that our disagreement was a “sexual thing” [non-sic].

 

Now it is true that these guys have never seen me with any woman butt there has never been an occasion for them to think me “otherweiss” [sic] inclined. In fact I make a point whenever I go into a bar type environment to make it patently clear that I am attached to a beautiful “wo-men” [sic]. Now it is possible that sum women might think that is just a smart line to get them back to The Cave. With that said, I have never brought either a female or even a male buddy back to this rather well known spot in all the time I have been living here which I think is going on 3 years.

 

I move around a lot and I don’t pay attention to things that don’t really matter a lot especially since I believe there is a life after death with plenty of dust and dirt especially for those who have shoveled it on to others while keeping their yards spick and “spam” [sic] which I promised these guys would not come from me. These guys though wouldn’t have known really what to believe since they know so little about me, just like I and the rest of the citizens of this country know so little about our neighbors let alone our politicians. Whatever happened to Gary Conduit, replaced by just another headline concocted by I wonder who?

 

“Witch” [sic] is why I didn’t make a big deal about their embellishment of their own thoughts especially since I had clearly made my point about their education having amounted to nothing butt a bunch of beans “sturred” [sic] in pot to be fed to the young and old alike although I didn’t get around to calling them chicken pot pies. I just love that photo.

 

Why in God’s name they didn’t just stick to calling me a “r-a-s-e-s-t” [sic] may have seemed to sum of the folk who didn’t know me somewhat bizarre although Richie had once been on my email list and he may have been sober enough at the time to have realized that going down that path may have got me fired up more. “Glass dress” [sic] tends to stretch when heated and nothing causes my brain to expand more than when folks want to milk the race card as though it was sum Bell Shaped Curve nonsense.

 

Racism like “degenerative de-seases” [sic] has no color, it simply seeks the lowest common denominator. It affects mostly those who have given up in terms of reaching their mental capacity in search of short term solutions. I seem to recall Dr. Kelly telling me that it is the longer nerve cell strands that “sumtimes meters in length” [sic] that are the first to be affected. I am still, however, waiting for the “godly” [sic] doctors Kelly and Price to get back to me with their findings, at least ask whether I would be willing to help them at a reduced fee. I won’t be offended. I am a “t-raider” [sic] and then “sum e=mcCCctTOo” [non-sic].

 

I then spent the next half hour talking with this magnificent young lady who was still a college student studying the humanities. This woman I can tell you was very attractive and I did have sum difficulty getting out the fact I was still attached. It helped a lot knowing, however, that the guy she was with was her husband. AND these two made sum terrific couple. He is a moviemaker by way of Nashville, Chicago, Los Angeles and they both now live up the street from me. His wife knew pretty much exactly where I lived as she mentioned where she had seen me once before with my dog.

 

Later it became much more obvious that the guys were still listening as they continued to drown their sorrows ordering more drinks to keep pace with the reality of my having nailed the best looking woman that had ever stepped foot in that bar, certainly in all the years I have been going there; still managing, however, to call me “a fagot.” By the way, once they couldn’t assure me that they had proper and adequate liability insurance in place I decided not to “roll the dice” as the black guy suggested although I let them both know that once I was outside the bar I was in fact “stepping out” without reminding them, however, that by that time my dog would not only be untied butt unleashed.

 

Both these guys though are in their early 30s and pretty beefed up. However, most of their build up begins at the gym that results late at night with much toilet talk, hoping I guess that by morning time the “vowels” [sic] are functioning “write” [sic], i.e. garbage in at night means more action on the toilet floor during the morning, adding more stress to the organs which are fully taxed by late afternoon while I am having tea or preparing for surf action that keeps me going pretty much all night long with less talk and more action.

 

In other words their testosterone seems rarely if ever released and given the fact that I have never seen “Richie de robed” [sic] who is not a bad looking guy once make a strike with anyone at the bar other than hanging out with his one female tenant “of his” [sic] which may account for him wanting to deflect what he sees in other guys on to me? In so far as his friend is concerned I wouldn’t know “since I was” [sic] meeting him for the first time “AND since he” [sic] appeared to be auditioning for sum major rap event it was impossible for me to know what he was all about and so of course I had to tickle anything that would stop him from giving me a headache with his rap. And so I played the race card.

 

One of the reasons I love to just hang out at bars is that one gets to meet folks from all walks of life and if someone is interesting you keep at it until they become frightening and then you simply up and go. You have to trust me this has never ever happened with a bunch of guys or even one guy for that matter. I cannot, however, say the same for our better halves. Only twice though has this taken place and all within the last week.

 

On one occasion it cost me a bottle of “Dom Pregnant” [sic] which led to me being for the first time propositioned. $198 is all that it took. The bartender who was a friend of both girls thought I was nuts. I don’t however have his looks or charm. Just the other night I happened to be at the same bar telling another woman what had occurred. She seemed most upset since she would only accept “crytal” [sic]. I have a picture of a bottle of crystal geyser somewhere which I simply cannot find.

 

I would Mr. Chivaro be using the same photo when describing the bottle of water I drank back on February 8th at the headquarters of Wetherly Capital and Arden Realty. It is fast approaching New Year and my hope is to get this out to you tonight for you to contemplate very carefully over the next 10 days.

 

Perhaps what got Richie the most upset was my suggesting to him that he pick up my dinner tab. Since I was planning a swim in the ocean I hadn’t ordered any alcohol and I felt I had given him a whole lot more entertainment than someone whose rap had to have also been driving him around the bend. Then again, I have no idea the nature of the relationship between these two guys. And if they are gay I couldn’t care less, just less competition for us not so-good-looking guys.

 

The barman last night was clearly not very happy with me and took his time getting me the bill. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t order anything to drink or because most of the folks around the bar had stopped watching the football game to focus in on how I was going to wrestle these two lightweights to the ground who may have felt the safest bet was to keep their glasses empty.

 

These two guys also got to hear me talk about my contention that in a fight I would much prefer to have at my side a healthy looking woman like this scholar who seemed to get even better looking as she articulated the position of women in society well before Pythagoras, agreeing though that he was the very first scientist and more importantly understood the importance of surrounding himself with the best of our species. This brownish blond haired, very fair skinned woman is built just like my travel companion and carries herself very well. I did not though ask her or husband if I could put pictures of her up on the site as I have now been “banned” from using any nude photos which may even resemble my travel companion.

 

She understands though that I have certain things programmed in that pull photos from a “secure database” that I constantly have trouble accessing to change. AND she understands I have a history of computer problems malfunctioning. Lately though everything seems to be operating just the way it should. Earlier today I explained to my landlord cum artist extraordinaire a thing or tTOo about how I compartmentalize the various little wars brewing much along the lines I plan to travel around the world crisscrossing the equator, staying close not only to the sun butt making sure the frequency allows me to keep track of things at light speed where the negatives are very quickly neutralized by all that is positive, one step, one heart beat, one day at a time.

 

And once you see Mr.Chaviro that light doesn’t travel at a constant speed things will begin to make a whole lot more sense to you, unless of course your brain is already fried, in which case you are probably not worth much more than this horse. This last picture was taken in the backyard of home overlooking Knysna Forest in South Africa, a very special place. Time to protect those that lead us on the straight and narrow, a horse of a different sort.

 

I came close to asking this lady if she would pose for my travel companion who is quite an amazing artist-sculpture-painter but decided instead to rub it in further with the guys by explaining why a woman like her would beat any “six pack muscle bound wimp, even special forces ‘in disguise’ [sic] whose first instinct in a life and death situation is to protect their exposed genitals.”

 

I also quietly explained that although I have no military training [to speak of], never once really been in a full-on fight other than on a rugby field sum years back, I would feel quite confident in holding my own against guys like this. There is an old rugby adage that the bigger the buffoon the harder it collapses under its own weight. Growing up in South Africa few of the rugby players I knew were into bodybuilding and certainly body builders wouldn’t make good rugby players.

 

The pilot with the cross standing to my father’s left didn’t make it. My father though seemed to lose count and trust me when I tell you my father was also pretty good with numbers. AND he was, and thankfully still is, looking very good.

 

South Africa may yet turn the corner and make a very smooth U turn that will eventually hopefully turn into a figure 8 which with the right moves can lead the folks there to infinity and beyond. It will, however, take “write” [sic] minded and “lefties” [non-sic] leading the charge doing the right stuff making right angle rotates, parties to boot.

 

Now I learned most of the really tough moves when I came out to California back in 1981 and decided to join in on a practice game with sum American rugby players who were just learning the game having “come outING of” [sic] pack ten football schools although based on the way they understood the game they might have just as well been raised by wolves. The first time I got tackled was by a guy weighing close to 100 lbs more than me, full-on in the rib cage, ten steps after I had kicked the ball up-field. It was also the last time I played with those yoyos.

 

Quite frankly I cannot remember what happened next. I know I never ended up in hospital. The only record I have of what might have possibly come next was in a letter I received from a doctor friend of mine, Michael Moshal. This October will be the 21st anniversary of the passing of one of the greatest men I have known who very likely saved my life, certainly I was headed downhill in a very big way and I wasn’t that much in to down-hill-skiing nor “tTOobog-gain-ING” [sic]. I arrived in this country one week before my 21st birthday.

 

Being the smallest has its virtues, butt never tTOo small. My eldest brother is without doubt very strong butt we would all agree though that the strongest person we know personally to have walked this planet is a guy by the name of Guy Friedman who is just a couple of inches taller than me and probably 170 sum 20 lbs more than what I currently weigh. When I got up this morning I noticed an email from Guy, which included good wishes for the Jewish New Year along with a picture of himself with his first-born MIA.

 

I am very appreciative of Guy’s friendship and he is not one to be caught napping unless of course he has to take care of a bird or tTOo. His Israeli special forces training has proved itself valuable both on the battlefields behind enemy lines where there are no lines since any fire is unfriendly as well as in guiding me through some personal rough moments where even he has sumtimes had trouble holding me down.

 

You not only never hear of Israeli special forces, especially those coming out of the most elite of units, ever going berserk and killing their spouses, for it simply doesn’t happen. From the time they begin their training they are coached by the very best of Jewish psychologists, psychiatrists and naturally under the careful eye of the family member with the 6th sense to never intervene unless asked, who watch them as they would their own.

 

It is positive reinforcement right from the very start and only on the tail end of their training do they experience the effects of interrogation where they are trained to hold their tongues for just 24 hours because that is all that is needed in order to get the rest of their unit back to safety. This concept of “we won’t leave anyone behind” breeds folks like Senator Kerry who somehow interpreted that to mean “fill” [sic] anything that moves. Then when “t-hey” [sic] return to civilian life and hit the bars of places like Coronado even the San Diego police who have a reputation for shooting first and then asking questions know to stay away.

 

Just a slight modification in training and recruiting will make the world of difference. This is one area where turning back the clock to the way things were during the time of the Greatest Generation makes perfect sense. Butt tTOo fix things right we are probably going to have to take more than two steps back. Then again, once we make it around the back of the sun, once we see the benefits of what it means to break the light speed barrier pretty much anything is possible. Lets tTOo see if we can avoid being blasted back to the rock age.

 

Aways though to go and folks like Warren Buffet are not stupid, simply intellectually dishonest. We now need to build the confidence of the next generation which I believe is our last hope. Mr. Chivaro would you like to argue number theory with me? I doubt it certainly by the time you have read through all this you will likely have swallowed your tongue, just don’t try winking me off or I will set my cat on you, winking cat’s to boot.

 

Beating up on recruits, however, only adds to battlefield weariness and a false sense of security especially for family members waiting home who have no idea of what they bargained for when choosing to sign up to a system that will at sum point likely end up doing more harm off the field especially when their partner’s unit is decimated on the battlefield. Had Senator Kerry been more forthcoming at the time he received his Congressional Medal of Honor many a seal today would still be floating to mention in passing the children in those 4 families who lost their mothers in just one month. Who has the courage to go dig up the dirt that has been placed in “man-ay” [sic] sandbag in their neck of the woods, where unaided, poorly guided teenagers wanting to give of their best, who aren’t even allowed to legally drink carry their bayonets through the stockings of even younger women?

 

Mr. Chivaro even though Mr. King Golden never made it to Vietnam, make no mistake he knows many a story of the boys who play with little boys and their genitals to boot. Mr. Golden like the man whose aid he came to yesterday have had many an opportunity to take on colleagues who played it fast and loose with our young. Now he and the rest are “now” [sic] about to pay comeuppance and be an example to others, particularly our young that there are sum of us old fogies who still have the intestinal fortitude to hold each other accountable.

 

And so bloc by bloc we go until we get bloc-buster.com a household name and if the folks who own Prentice Hall want to take issue with me, then so be it. I wont require them to pay more than any other organization wanting to do the right thing and have their good name associated with empowering the youth, our future.

 

I want to avoid at all cost the possibility of us going around and around in circles, repeating the same mistakes of past generations when all we have to do is think smart and hold folks in check just like I am doing right now with Mr. Golden and company and you tTOo.

 

Many it seems, tend to focus on the wrong stuff, the stuff that tightens the muscles, closes the jaw that results in the severest of whippings. Perhaps why Muhammad Ali was as great as he was. It wasn’t so much that he floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee butt when he mixed up his vocabulary he had everyone including his opponent totally confused. The English language more so than any other language has tremendous possibilities, both good and bad, perhaps similar yet very different to Number is the essence of all things, good or evil.

 

A top heavyweight boxer friend of mine who met Guy Friedman as we once all relaxed[1] in bar club on the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles, later commented, “I would never want to go up against you friend.” At the time Michael Grant who is 6’7’ +++ tall and the longest reach in modern day “boxing” [sic] history had not only never lost a fight he never knew anything about Guy Friedman other than the fact that Guy worked for Bruce Willis and Demi Moore as their personal bodyguard, although it was probably my eldest brother who ever through a punch when a stranger got a little tTOo close to their Malibu residence. My brother was the “Willis’ chief” [sic,] AND masseur AND poet to boot.

 

Guy Friedman is unique in many ways, none more so than the fact that he rarely opens his mouth unless he has something important to say. He grew up on a Kibbutz in Israel where most of the very best are recruited. No doubt he was watched from a very early age and the fact that he may have missed out on some formal education seems to have only benefited his learning. Today he is not only a proud father but he has expanded his very gentle touch to helping those not only in need but who most importantly show the initiative to stop blaming others for the evils of the world and to do something about it.

 

He like the husband of the young lady I met last evening is an entrepreneur and he is not afraid to do the laundry or the dishes. He happens to own a laundry and dry cleaning business. Small Business Mr. Chaviro is where it is all at, wouldn’t you agree? So why the “hi-ties” [sic] to folks like Vivendi?

 

There are a number of folks I have met along the way who don’t always have the nicest things to say about Israelis, as in, “We love Israel, we just hate Israelis.” It is not only the Arabs who say these words; in fact, I have mostly heard it amongst Jewish people, mostly those who sit in front of TV screens pontificating their navels while dictating how Israel needs to kowtow to folks who have no interest in Israeli shekels who would be better off just heckling their “phat” [sic] Jewish spouses.

 

Guy Friedman is not simply the exception he is what keeps Israel safe, for he sets the right example about all that is good about Israel and all that is great about the United States of America, that anyone regardless of their education, their social courses or discourse, can make it here by working hard, doing the right thing, giving credit thought to the ones who really pay the bills that keep Israel’s forces on heightened alert, the American Christians, who are in fact the ones footing most of the bill, Bill Clinton to boot all the way to Timbuktu along with his “not-so-fair-weth-early” [sic] partners.

 

The Jewish people here in America have a very loud voice and folks like Farrakhan are absolutely right when he says that the Jews have a disproportionate say in what goes into our foreign policy and that if the blacks who constitute sum 40 million Americans were to unite they would be able to help their “Arab brothers” much more. What Minister Farrakhan and others like him fail to articulate, no strike that, never even mention is the fact that Israel with all the “mishi-gas’ [sic] people who are simply no more than 24 hours each day on the brink of annihilation, represent the only democracy in the Middle East and most Jewish people just like most Christians, just like most Muslims are good, certainly they wake up each morning wanting to do good. Butt then they turn on the TV and see the B.S. and then they turn off and tune out and find reason to take it out on others, especially the young who are so impressionable and very scared.

 

Mr. Chivaro it is all about democracy and our democracy here in the United States is not simply at issue, not just a question of being under attack, the war is over, the American people just lost. Butt I have a plan that will rattle up the forces from within who will one day see hopefully soon “sea the light” [sic] scratch their way to the surface and we will we will, rock you...

 

I have chosen to provide you with a hyperlink to what I have now titled Perfect Storm XX. T is the 20th letter in the English Alphabet. It is all about those who distract others in the pursuit of getting those who oppose the forces of darkness to be distracted by false and artificial life to get them to focus on crossing their Ts and dotting Is while gangsters make off with our Treasury. Pythagoras never had contemplate the forces let alone the mathematics of artificial light for the square root of negative numbers albeit that of negative one would never have tickled his fancy for he was surrounded by women who made their presence known in ways that only few of us it seems know how to fully appreciate.

 


[1] Pypeetoe Note: At the bar that “eveing” [sic] was the action figure actor Van Dam who was holding his own court. Michael Grant and Guy Friedman not only stole the show with the help though of another PAL of mine from South Africa who was one of the first to set up trade shows in emerging markets for small American businesses and who was now back in Los Angeles having a go at the model agency business. My interests as you shall see are quite varied butt it is all about small businesses that drive an economy although given the lack of a level playing they have little say in what politicians end up doing given the fact they are mostly beholden to special interest groups, pacs of wolves or would you simply be intellectually honest and call them nothing butt a den of thieves, fleas to boot, wouldn’t we at least agree to agree on that Mr. Attorney?

 

I really do stick to my knitting and folks are only now becoming keenly aware of what I do for living which is to do the stuff I am passionate about which involves, nature, art, the sciences and mostly the humanities. Without the humanities we might as well just turn off and tune into our libidos and when they get old and haggard we might as well all get shot.

 

When my new friends left I then headed to the beach for a quick dip in the ocean although this time I didn’t swim since there was no one to keep check of  Pypeetoe who is a puppy and whines on occasion to mention in passing that he still continues to pee on his toes. I think the couple though understood better my math “principles” once I told them how we came up with the Py part of his name.

 

I can’t be precise, butt at around 2am this morning my dog had woken me up which has never happened before. He was very agitated and wouldn’t stop whining, even when I held him he continued to shake which again is something he rarely does and soon he began to cough and a choking spell continued for about 5 minutes. By this time I was fully awake. The next thing I hear are these very loud voices outside taunting me to come out and “take it like a man.” Although I was well rested and fully aware of the condition of these two characters I decided to simply dial 911 and by the time I got off the phone Pypeetoe was sound asleep and I then got into the rhythm of his beat.