Christmas Gopher Named Blackwell

Gophers are active in my yard at the moment - possibly two, maybe three. The only sure count I have is the one that is NOT active any more...

But even that assessment is open to interpretation.

The new Sherlock Holmes movie was a kick to watch. The illusion surrounding Lord Blackwell's "death" fooled both Holmes and Watson for a while. So maybe this denizen of the underworld also staged his own demise, then came back to life? You see, after I took this trophy picture and left for a few hours, upon my return the gopher had disappeared!

Ah, what elementary factors may we deduce to be at work here? Hmmm, maybe the underground rat ate some narcoleptic roots and was just playing dead, despite the crushed midsection, and just crawled off after being sprung from the trap. Maybe this was a rare flying gopher and it flew away. Maybe one of the numerous "farm cats" my neighbors feed and house snatched up the delectible rodent and retreated elsewhere to enjoy his toothsome repast.

Regardless of the method by which Gopher Blackwell rescusitated or re-ambulated, the lesson is:

Never trust anything that looks like a gopher - dead or alive.

They Gave You WHAT For Christmas?!

Friday, December 25, 2009


The morning was peaceful at daybreak - and calm.
My dreams were a joy; they served as a balm
For the indignities suffered living next to the famous
TLC Catering, run by Andy and Amos.

My half-sleep was shattered at seven-fifteen
By banging and yakking and a gravel-voice sing.
The Grinch was up early this fine Christmas Day
And her mission was something that no one dares say.

Oh, what was that noise? My ears took the hit!
'Twas the loud strains of soft rock that accompany the shit
Served up from the roach coach they defensively guard
Within the bleak compound of their half-acre yard.

The serenades, football games, news breaks with smokes,
Station identifications, the advertising blokes -
It goes on all day and well into the night.
Just their way of saying, "Yep, we're here to spite!"

The speaker they mounted just over the fence
(By design that only to them makes some sense)
Is directed at my window, at the side of my home,
To broadcast their presence, their frothing, their foam.

The three rabid cookies, running this scam for years,
Do everything possible to assault all the ears
Within earshot - those of their most hated neighbor
Who dared challenge permit, and dog count, and trailer.

They continually scream, "Don't you look, but now HEAR me!
Ain't nothin' that you can do, 'cause we're in the cuntry!"
The control freaks next door demand homage or scraping,
"We're here, but we're not here," is the game that they're playing,

So with trucks, and with trailers, deliveries, and ice,
Stinking barrels of fry grease, they lie and aren't NICE.
They are troublesome parasites, sucking milk from the city
Whose breast is exhausted, just a saggy, dry tittie.

We live in a town, you see, ruled by committee,
Who's idea of action is to preen and look pretty.
Their powers of judgment offend in extreme
And to listen for moments makes one want to scream.

Their minions - no better - can spin many words
From brains that are smaller than ‘most any bird’s.
“Sue them on your own,” say the powers that be,
“’Cause we don’t know nuthin’. You get nuthin’ for free.”

So much for this Christmas. So much for Three Beaches –
Those big greasy trucks run by neighboring leeches.
This God-awful nuisance! When the lawsuit is over
Perhaps then some peace returns. Come Springtime; come Clover.

Christmas Came Early!

I could scarcely believe my eyes when I approached my driveway yesterday afternoon. The travel trailer parked in the side yard across the street was gone! It was then that I recalled the blue pickup parked in my next door neighbors' driveway when I departed four hours earlier. I swung my head in the other direction and... Jackpot! Damn, did I call that play, or what?

This is truly the best Christmas present I've received from my nasty, noisy neighbors in the three years I have had the misfortune of living next to them - and they delivered it on a silver platter, no less! There it is, a big travel trailer, backed nicely and neatly into a spot undoubtedly used a few years back (see the chart) by one of the caterers extraordinaire now-departed MFPU's {may they forever rest in peace.}

Now C, L, T can relive their glory days. If they squint, the travel trailer could look like a third MFPU lined up with the other two and, with Bonnie Jean Carson’s truck, they can reminisce about operating FOUR trucks from their property, from 1992 to 2003. Boy, howdy! They sure had everyone buffaloed - the city, the old neighbors – no one could touch them! Yes, those were the days… {sigh}…

Until that bastard moved in next door… {* dream bubble pops! *}

Still, in order to celebrate the festive entry of the Trojan Horse trailer, they had Rosa the Chain-Smoking Riveter over, cranked up the yard radio to broadcast a Raiders game my direction, then retreated indoors to escape the rain and to Par-tay! (I’m sure their rationale is that if the radio is loud enough outside, they can then hear the game inside the building.)

Whoa, mister, - you say - have you gone golliwompus on us?! How can this be a good thing? Another piece of literal trailer trash wedged onto the property so as to hide from your view the illegal commissary, the grease dump, the trash truck, the collection of inoperative and abandoned vehicles leaking petrochemicals onto the ground, and the remaining operating catering truck? (Wherever do they have room for the other storage trailer, the walk-in freezer, Lynda's big-ass pickup truck, Theresa's SUV [or is that Teressa?], and Corky's sporty little car used for process server avoidance?)

OK, point given for that last nonitalisized part. The home-in-a-box would be much better parked in the same space now occupied by the icemaker because an empty trailer MAKES NO NOISE! But I fantasize too much...

Of course this is a good thing. A great thing. This is marvelous! Have you never trapped monkeys before? First, you put food that monkeys really like in a container with an opening just large enough for the monkey's hand to squeeze inside. When she grabs the food she cannot remove both the food and her hand from the container. Often, even a well-fed but greedy monkey will not release the food to avoid getting caught. Her hand is stuck in the cookie jar, so to speak. The same principle applies to other small-minded animals - some human. Eventually they have to let go.

Here's another analogy from the world of chess: Knight to B4. Check. Sacrifice a lawyer or a code enforcement officer. Knight to C2. Checkmate that femi-nazi queen.

Pigs Still Rampant! In Parlor... In Kitchen...

Once again, the pigs almost broke out of the parlor and into the kitchen ...

And, if you check out the story published by the Lexington Herald-Leader on Kentucky.com, also check out the retort by "PUBLICSAFETYFIRST" to comments made by "dennisd", the blog author. It appears that every locality, including Manteca, has that small but vitriolic core who attacks every reasoned suggestion regarding changes to police, fire and code enforcement procedures.

Although Mr. Duross' quote, following, is in a mocking fashion, it really is the hypothesis on which the "American Experiment" is based: Law-abiding citizens voluntarily comply with enacted law for the good of all.

".... we encourage you to follow our laws [and ordinances], and we commend you should you decide to do so - but we certainly don’t want to get hard-assed about it and insist that you comply with laws [and ordinances] that reflect our [community] values and protect our [law-abiding] citizens. That could be construed as impolite." [commentary is mine.]

It immediately brought to mind my scofflaw neighbors - the "takers" in society - who pay no heed to lawful restrictions and instead deem themselves masters of their tiny universe. If anyone mentions anything contrary to their delusional fantasy, they heap scorn, hostility, and retaliation upon them - forget mere impoliteness.

Enforcement is contrary to the experiment in freedom, yet necessary for certain people. Indeed, there are not enough police of any stripe to MAKE the experiment work - nor enough money to pay them. Even the ones Manteca has are either overworked (but not in my neighborhood), or clueless (more likely), or corrupted (definite, in one example.)

Mr. Doross of Lexington, Kentucky asks, "[W]hat about our current complaint-driven system?" Manteca claims to have such a system also. The choices are: 1) a pro-active system with attentive officers nipping problems in the bud; 2) a complaint-driven system where limited civil service attention gets directed to established problems; 3) a corrupt system, driven by money and influence instead of law, where "connections" buy "justice"; or 4) no system at all (anarchy). On that scale, I fear Manteca falls somewhere in #3. It has an irrational, barely functioning system, which I guess is what most small towns have. Gossamer, ephemeral and doing little harm, at best; at worst, corrupt, working great injustice and harm upon the populace.

Chilly Weekend

The weekend was so cold that it *snowed* in Manteca this morning.

The reason for the lack of heat is because it was sucked up by the local posse of hashslingers and their closest, dearest friends and business associates. (It's exactly like when the Dementors come and suck all the life and heat out of their victims in order to prolong their own interminable, miserable, and cold existences. See the "Harry Potter" series of novels* for more discussion on Dementors.**)

The celebration of hate started Friday night when a "troll" posted its comment on my last post. This particular troll joined Blogger in December 2009 (How coincidental... that's THIS month!) so it could leave its trail of slimy drool here. It never fails that sub-humans, such as this nicholacaywood, reveal their anonymous and meaningless lives in such a manner. Of course, his/her/its list of links to porn sites could not be allowed to remain.

It was so cold hereabouts that all the leaves fell off the trees. (C'mon, this IS California, after all.) I spent an hour yesterday, ahead of the rain and snowflakes, to clear my front yard of leaves and haul them off to the compost pile out in the back corner. It was a beautiful, peaceful day - so peaceful that I savored the thought and hope my noisy neighbors were not home - no ice machine, no outdoor radio, no commercial trucks, and none of their newfound parade of visitors. Yes, ma'am, downright peaceful...

...until my rake and I betook ourselves to the southwest corner of my lot to clear it of the leaves my neighbors' gigantic, untrimmed, fruitless mulberry tree so generously donates to me every year. (Hey, I don't fault the tree! It doesn't trim itself, you know.) Immediately upon applying rake to leaf, the hidden door to Thunder Cave wrenched open, the giant red push-button was pushed at 2:26 p.m., and the air for many metres around reverberated with what passes for music according to my neighbors' taste. (They must think I also should like their "taste" in music, when in reality they have no taste in music or anything else.)

They HATE peace and quiet. You see, they had screwed up badly because at 2:26 p.m. neither the ice machine nor the yard radio was on - and that damn neighbor of theirs was just over the fence raking his (their) his leaves. This cannot be! Their deliberately mapped out plan of noise retaliation MUST be adhered to. One appliance or the other - preferably both! - MUST be dumping their shit noise onto him and his property at all times... and the frigid weather was preventing the ice machine from performing. (Hmmm... frigid... non-performing...?) And who cares if they are INSIDE while the radio blares OUTSIDE?

The Dementor games continued later in the evening with a text message from a telephone number I had never seen before.

Sender: (no name) 19712080955
Subject: FW: (blank)
Received: December 06, 2009 at 6:26:46pm

Fwd : Your a dork who smells like poop at night. your a littli perspom.ng.th.fish.gh.gh.korei.deg.yogim'm'm'm.fell :) wro.g.sang :
--
(I must apologize because it was much cuter with all the little smilie faces that didn't make the translation to text only.)

Who knew that a landline in Salem, Oregon could sent text messages to my cell phone in Manteca, California? Besides, I don't know any poop-head little persons in Oregon, who don't know how to spell or string a simple message out coherently. But I think I know who does... and they and their insurance company lawyer demanded to know my telephone number, too.


So, these were small parts of my weekend - watching Dementors circle the drain, sucking life out of everything and leaving only frigid (non-performing?) air to precipitate the remaining atmospheric moisture.

- - - - - - -
* (or, the "Harry Potter" movies for those who can't read.)
** Who knew that J. K. Rawlings met the T.L.C. Caterers?

The Final Countdown

As a follow on to the comment in the last post:

(paragraph from http://itsgettinghotinhere.org/ )
In 1986, the Swedish rock band Europe penned a song that would go down as one of the greatest in karaoke history, “The Final Countdown.” In truth, “The Final Countdown” has inspired thousands – nay, millions – to become amateur hair-metal superstars, belting out that most famous of lyrics, “It’s the final countdown/Duh nuh nuuuuuh nuh/ duh nuh nuh nuh nuh/ duh nuh nuuuuuh nuh/ duh nuh nuh nuh nuh.” It has become a timeless anthem that brings basketball crowds to their feet and brings back memories of hairspray and frayed leather vests to many a former groupie.

(lyrics from www.elyrics.net/ , sorry, no .mp3 file)

Group: Europe
Released: 1986
Songwriter: Joey Tempest

We're leaving together
But still it's farewell
And maybe we'll come back
To earth, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground
Will things ever be the same again?


It's the final countdown
The final countdown

Ohh
We're heading for Venus and still we stand tall
'Cause maybe they've seen us and welcome us all, yea
With so many light years to go and things to be found
(To be found)
I'm sure that we'll all miss her so

It's the final countdown
The final countdown
The final countdown
(The final countdown)
Ohh ho ohh


The final countdown, oh ho
It's the final countdown
The final countdown
The final countdown
(The final countdown)


Ohh
It's the final countdown
We're leaving together
The final countdown
We'll all miss her so
It's the final countdown
(The final countdown)


Ohh, it's the final countdown
Yea

© SCREEN GEMS-EMI MUSIC INC

The Travel Trailer Shim Sham Shimmy

Well, I must admit, Manteca's code enforcement response time is certainly improving. Someone was out a mere 25 hours after I hit the enter key on the City's Government-Reach-Out-And-Touch/Love/Cuddle-Your-Neighbor online reporting system. That response time is warp speed 9 quicker than my first tooth-and-nail attempts to get ANY feedback from the city in March and April of 2008 (I was Sooo naive then.) Even so, Animal Control has them beat at only one hour turnaround last September 8th (2009), after I delivered my complaint in person. (Of course, the Animal Control officer still managed to screw up that investigation...)

Anyway, the white pickup truck with "Manteca Police Department" stenciled on the door, and "Code Enforcement" stenciled under that, pulled up to the curb on the east side of the street and took pictures of the travel trailer parked across the street. He pulled up the street a few rods, and down the street a chain or two, probably to photograph the various perspectives and to write observation notes. All told, approximately ten to fifteen minutes were spent on this endeavor.

Here is the online report that prompted the visit:

Thank you for contacting the City of Manteca. We appreciate the opportunity to assist you and assure you a positive experience with us.

The Complaint you submitted was:
- - - - - - - - -
Request type: Boats, Trailers, RVs on Private Property

Description: Travel trailer at 785 Fishback Street is not in compliance with MMC 17.15.105 Parking and storage of mobile vehicles and accessories on pre July 19, 1978 parcels.

A Wilderness Advantage travel trailer by Fleetwood is parked in the home's side yard, open to view from the front (east) and unscreened on the side (south). In spite of it being there for over two years, no DMV licensing is displayed anywhere on it, only the dealer promo info. The trailer's pop-out extension has been deployed the entire time, the trailer is plugged into an outside electrical outlet, and there are indications someone is using it regularly or living in it.

The January 2009 ordinance's six-month enforcement "grace period" has long since expired.
- - - - - - - - -
Your request has been assigned to a [ed., an anonymous] city employee. You will receive a response within 5 days for this request. If it does take longer than this, please contact us by replying to this email.

The current expected due date is 12/10/09.


[Note: The 5-day response time means five "open for business" days. The tally has already included one every-other-Friday closure, three unpaid furlough days, two days for Thanksgiving, and four standard weekend days. So, add ten lost days to any 5+ days response.]

Yes, that RV has been parked there, unmoving, for a long, long time. And this complaint is regarding the property across the street from me - not the Neighbors From Hell (NsFH) property next door.

(Shhh... I'm not supposed to complain about them... Remember, I was quarantined by the Chief of Police from complaining to the City of Manteca about Lynda Allen and Theresa Brassey illegally operating their TLC Catering business, with the help of Corky Greene, from 810 Fishback Street, the residential property zoned R-1 since annexation where the three of them live, work, play, collect animals and other friends, jabber, eat, make ice, make love, make noise at all hours, take commercial deliveries, restock their illegal commissary building, build all sorts of unpermitted noncompliant structures, etc.)

The new ordinance regarding mobile accessory vehicles went into effect January of this year, so one might ask, "What about grandfathering?"

The answer is: "No grandfathering allowed." These are mobile vehicles and can be moved around while screening and parking surfaces can be retrofitted. If the vehicle is too big or the necessary improvements cannot or will not be made, then the arrangement is not permitted and the vehicle must be hauled off to an appropriate rental space somewhere else.

The BIG question on the readers' minds right now is, "Why is this guy picking on the poor unfortunates who live across the street?" The answer is, "I have (almost) nothing against the owners of the property across the street. I have never met them."

Yet this entire campaign is deadly serious and the traps are baited for more than one prey.