Saturday, August 19, 2017

RP: After Communing with Jiminy Cricket in the New Hanging Gardens of Babylon . . .

RE-PRINTED from herehttp://theweathercontinues.blogspot.com/2017/08/after-communing-with-jiminy-cricket-in.html





And ACTUALLY, it was a grasshopper (THREE inches long), that I communed with.



The New Hanging Gardens of Babylon (my back porch), where I once could NOT commune with the comatose and DROOLING Haston Lavern Caulder (who was RELEASED from jail this past week, but has mercifully NOT contacted me).



Haston Caulder in the Garden, fall 2016. You can't see the DROOL, but you see a cigarette he'd lost going unconscious, earlier. Haston burned MANY holes in his shorts that Joseph Faulk of NYC kept buying for him -- but not in THESE shorts -- yet.


Although Haston has nipples and pecs that are EXEMPLARY for a 43-year-old guy who's lived the criminal life since before puberty, I never found him sexually attractive after day one. 

Nevertheless, he sent me a selfie of his SHAVEDextended man-meat to forward on to Joseph in NYC to KEEP THE MONEY COMING, Joseph sending him over $7,000.00 in one month alone (plus lots of food treats and clothing via Amazon -- and furniture, including shipping a child-sized bed which BAFFLED both Haston and me -- we wondering if Mr. Faulk had ANY sanity).


In the interest of "common decency" I am NOT publishing that photo here -- but IF YOU MUST indulge your prurient interest -- you can view it near the top here: http://theweathercontinues.blogspot.com/2017/05/proven-huge-financial-supporter-of.html



And this is the dwarf double-yellow Angel's Trumpet that "Jiminy Cricket" eventually made it to, that was in another positiontoday, than in the recent photos above.

The REASON Jimini Cricket came to call, is that it had been a VERY baffling day so far. I was just sitting down in "Haston's seat" for a cigarette smoke when he LEAPED out of the hanging basket with the giant Night-Blooming Cereus



 . . . and first slowly crept to the front edge of the folding chair he jumped onto -- taking longer than for me to smoke a cigarette -- as I spoke to him in low reassuring tones, so as not to frighten him (nor did I make any quick moves). He then leaped to the post of the handrail, climbed up on it, walked over to the Angel's Trumpet, climbed all the way up it very slowly -- tasting leaves and bloom buds -- and apparently finding it WANTING, he began BACKING DOWN while hanging upside-down!!!

So I gently got up from my seat, and not wanting to accidentally harm him by capturing him in my hand, I stroked the three-inch length of his back three times -- before he jumped up and flew away around the corner of the building.

I felt just like St. Francis of Assisi!!!:




So here are the BAFFLES OF TODAY:



First, I went to hear Erin Brockovich speak on the front steps of City Hall about the GenX pollution of Wilmington's drinking water -- scheduled for 10:00 AM. But at 10:25 -- and NO ONE knowing where Erin was, but continuing to mill around, I left at that point, I having NO RESPECT for anyone in this day and age of ubiquitous cell phones, who can't call to say what has delayed them and when they expect to arrive.

Just now, I got a message from a friend who was there briefly, and an organizer of the event, that someone ELSE there KNEW that Erin had a family emergency and had left town in the middle of the night, last night, and added, "She should have made an announcement earlier . . . " (than sometime AFTER 10:25 when she introduced SOMEONE to speak who was NOT Erin Brockovich).


This is as incompetent as the APOCOLYPSE!!!

One of the horsemen fell off. What a day! Even the Apocalypse is going to be incompetent.



Pat Robertson, the founder of the Christian Broadcasting Network and a familiar face on its flagship program The 700 Club, has been hospitalized, CBN announced Friday. The 87-year-old, who also founded the private Christian…
GMA.YAHOO.COM

BUT, while waiting all that time I was RUNNING MY MOUTH about the CORRUPTION of my Narco-Trafficking Kenan Family that put Trump into power to turn the country NAZI and Ku Klux Klan with MANY "responsible citizens" of Wilmington -- they ALL seeming to know that -- as well as that Mayor Bill Saffo, District Attorney Benjamin R. David, Police Chief Ralph Evangelous, and Sheriff Ed McMahon are all PART of the Republican/Democrat Christian DRUG MAFIA -- in fact MOST now know that Bill Saffo has an EYE for young men -- and that Ben David has MALE LOVERS!!!

FEW were surprised that Barack Obama is GAY AS A GOOSE, his marriage arranged by Christian Ministers Jesse Jackson and Jeremiah Wright, but the majority who KNEW THIS, also knew that Richard Nixon, George HW Bush, and George W Bush ALL had male lovers while President.




And then one guy of about my age told me that the TRUE STORY of the RUTHLESSNESS and the "Trailer-Trash" beginnings of -- and of the wealthy Kenans in general -- is ENTIRELY DISCLOSED in the history book POOR NO MORE, by Robert Ruark, and that I should BUY IT:







And researching this book, I learned that Mr. Ruark is actually a NATIVE of Wilmington, NC, but the protagonist (look it up)"Craig Price", ends up in RUIN, so he AIN'T FULLY KENAN!!!








And the OTHER THING I keep forgetting to mention is that Mr. Faulk of NYC has kindly sent me just about the same money to cover my medications as he did a month ago, BUT he being a recluse who has NEVER been near homeless, had NO IDEA the expenses I've had while waiting for the TARDY SPECTRUM CABLE to settle with me from hitting me with this truck in a crosswalk in full daylight -- EXACTLY at the intersection where Ms. Brockovich was supposed to have spoken today, but I will have enough for all those meds except the expensive one for attrib (atrial fibrillation), that costs $98.00 for one month.





So if ANYONE can send a few dollars for that (I need to refill in six days), you can PayPal me a few bucks toward that using my email address scottdkenan@aol.com to find my PayPal account -- or use the DONATE button on my original blog on the right sidehttp://scottkenan.blogspot.com.




Scott



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