Country Living in the City of Manteca

This Cow-Town's Official Marching Song:

2012-01-26T16:28:00.000-08:00

"The Valley of [Manteca] Clods!"

Pterosaur Rock
by Jacob Mantia
(used with permission)

Jack Satan's the greatest of gods,
And Hell is the best of abodes.
'Tis reached through the Valley of Clods
By seventy beautiful roads.
Hurrah for the Seventy Roads!
Hurrah for the clods that resound
With a hollow, thundering sound!
Hurrah for the Best of Abodes!

We'll serve him as long as we've breath--
Jack Satan, the greatest of gods.
To all of his enemies, death!--
A home [with] the [Manteca Sods].
Hurrah for the thunder of Clods
That smother the souls of his foes!
Hurrah for the spirit that goes
To dwell with the Greatest of Gods!

(from A Sole Survivor, The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Vol 1, 1909, [slightly amended].)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'Round and 'Round

Yes, once more I will try City Hall
Where my chance of success is so small
If it's legal or money,
There, the law goes all "funny"
This pig sty still run by Oink, McFall

To Karen MacLaughlin, Manteca City Manager:

(on witnessing a Waste Dept employee attempt to collect
a 14-year-old debt the court ordered the City to write off)
Your new job inspired much incredulity
In those few who have any acuity
But to everyone's eyes
There's a nicer surprise
Your best feature - your great assiduity!

You're a peach, looking out for a buck
To be made off a TLC truck
Garbage bills pile high
While they chop, stir, and fry
"Twen'-three years we was down on our luck"

So that debt from way back - Ninety-seven?
(one plus one... let's see... hmm...) Twenty-'leven!
If you weren't so damn blind,
Take a look! You will find
That the perps have packed up, left this heaven

(on the City's drug ~~enforcement~~ incubation program next to Sierra High)But... they left behind great farms of weed
And a tender who shares in the feed
Check inside the locked freezer
(That just might stop a geezer)
The shit's prime - "not one stem, branch, or seed."

For the which you have issued permit?
And ignore our state law? What says it?
Permit written contrary
Makes it void - mere hot airy
You dolts make me so mad I could spit!

(Yup, City filed $800 suit '96, lost suit '00)
But they got Small Claims court to agree
From Manteca they should be cut free
With their pass sayin' "Granny"
Kicked you girls in the fanny
And your shame is now open to see

Your drug cops are the worst of the blind
They identify with their own kind
Those blue clouds of foul smoke
Of their brains make a joke
Dream of action while still on behind

(on blind eyes to blatant zoning violations)
I believe that you clowns are mere swabs
Who lucked out when out looking for jobs
Comprehension from reading?
Well, you're sure not succeeding
In my sight, you're less bright that door knobs

(on my money damages claim)
Brings us back to the question at hand
'Bout my money, my peace, and my land
For, while singing the Gospel,
Sinful “Lard” has been hostile
In a vain, hypocritical stand

(and the perps' address still doesn't have garbage service!)

.

BDG Shysters*: "Get'cher Tea Head Turncoats (tm) Here!"

2011-09-22T17:27:00.000-07:00

BDG self-confession began long, long ago...

The Barefoot Dirty Girls

Mistresses of Flim-Flam**
Purveyors of TLC Roach Coach Swill
Growers and Distributors of Sierra High (c) Marijuana
Brains (?) and Producers of Tea Head Turncoats

-------------------------

I guess Lyin' Lynda and Roly-Poly Red have been ruminating on my proposal from last January, in the post "Opprobrius Chameleons: Reversibles and Rip-Offs" - a jacket that announces to the world what bad-girl bad-asses they are on the outside... but warm, fluffy, ~~virginal~~, cuddly and affirming on the inside.

NO camouflage covers the BDG's the moment they open their mouths.
(Hmmm... maybe camouflaged duct tape over their mouths...)

In patenting this "invention," the most telling sentence in the entire Innovation Application is this one, penned by Theresa Ann Brassey in 1998 (though undoubtedly dictated to her by Lyin' Lynda Sue Allen):

"If the team [s]he is rooting for loses the game or is otherwise unacceptable to the rest of the fans, e.g. for example [sic] if they are the visiting team, the user can simply reverse the jacket and present those fans in the stadium with a logo for a team and/or player that is acceptable to them."

What a slimy, manipulative confession of unprincipled action! This applied statement of Lyin' Lynda's and Roly-Poly Red's credo grows out of their blind paranoia that someone might see them for who they really are; it attempts to validate their schizophrenic view of this life; and it embodies their anxiety and dread of the here-and-now and the hereafter.

"Just turn the coat (and hope no one looks inside.)"

The Barefoot Dirty Girls are merely recycling their wasted lives. As one online encyclopedia put it,

"The fear of the past coming to upset the newly-found stability is always present in the mind of the turncoat. The past is rewritten and whitewashed to cover former deeds. When successful, this activity results in the distortion and falsification of historical events."

Amen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

But the story continues and gets better. Their plan was (is?) to capitalize on the patent by trademarking a clothing line label - Turncoat. (Yes, Turncoat! From their own mouths! I know...!)

Not one, but two trademark applications were filed. It appears these two snake-oil saleswomen have been through litigation before. New action took place a few months ago on one of the trademark serial #'s, cancelling the original litigated one.

Trademark Serial # 76454909 (live)

Litigated Serial # 76533488 (dead- cancelled 04Feb2011)

It looks as if our local turncoats are attempting to re-launch some sort of camouflage enterprise.

The BDG's:

Drive '89 Chevy submersibles
We blend in 'cause we wear reversibles
Don't dare you detract!
Don't give us no flak
By sayin' we're gas-filled dirigibles.

Yeah, that black market "Manteca medical" marijuana money needs a Turncoat (tm) money laundering front in order to evade numerous more laws. As spelled out repeatedly in the Showtime series, Weeds, the BDG's need some sort of cash-based scam going to hide their activities and perpetuate their miserable existences. Just like their earlier roach coach food business, drug money funding; now, instead of cash for emetic comestibles, cash sales of Chinese-made sports apparel (especially for a worthless franchise in a useless industry.)

If anyone happens to spot one of these monstrosities in real life -- a jacket or a BDG (no diff) -- check it for a hidden zipper pocket for smuggling a marijuana ~~inventory~~ stash into Raider football games. (Now we know why the fans of eyeless, toothless pirates are so wigged out... Go, Red, weed-brained daughter of the San Leandro Pirates!)

Here's another suggestion for
Lyin' Lynda, Ravaged Red, and Guts[y] Green -

just sew large, scarlet A's

on your personal jackets... inside and out...
after all, "A is for Asshole[s]."

(And watch out for those gas-filled dirigibles that float over stadia full of people.)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* shy·ster (n) Slang. A person who uses unscrupulous, fraudulent, or deceptive methods in business. An unethical, unscrupulous practitioner, especially of law.

Word History: Calling someone a shyster might be considered libellous; knowing its probable origin adds insult to injury. Shyster is most likely derived from the German term scheisser, meaning literally "one who defecates," from the verb scheissen, "to defecate." Sheisser, which is chiefly a pejorative term, is the German equivalent of the English terms bastard and son of a bitch. [Middle High German schzen, from Old High German skzzan; see skei- in Indo-European roots.]

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
** The Flim-Flam Man (20th Century Fox) George C. Scott plays Mordecai C. Jones (self-styled "M.B.S., C.S., D.D. — Master of Back-Stabbing, Cork-Screwing and Dirty-Dealing!"), a drifting confidence trickster who makes his living defrauding people in the southern United States. [Really? Criminals drifting through life on lies and evasion? Sound familiar, BDG's?]

.

Ticky-Tacky Little Narc Squabs

2011-09-21T15:26:00.000-07:00

Duh... what happened to all my Dodo squabs?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My email to the Superintendent of the Manteca Unified School District regarding the illegal marijuana cooperative operating right behind Sierra High School:

Mr. Messer,

Consider this an update from last year, when the three residents were growing their own weed at 810 Fishback Street. That usage was apparently legal. Those three moved last Easter, turned the property over to a relative, yet still return to collect the crop. That activity, however -- growing for non-residents -- constitutes a cooperative or collective, which is strictly prohibited within a thousand feet of a school, not to mention being in a residential district.

I would suggest you request another police visit to ascertain the cardholder status of the property residents, and investigate the shipments of marijuana to non-residents (ie., a co-op.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His response:

Mr Behling,

We did contact the Manteca P.D. again and they emailed Sergeant Mraz, cmraz@ci.manteca.ca.us, who is the supervisor for the narcotics unit. They did a compliance check on the home and they meet all requirements. The address on Fishback is in compliance with state law. They recommended that if you needed any further information you could contact Sergeant Mraz. Thanks for keeping me posted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Compliance check, my ass! Contacting Sergeant Mraz - or any other useless, unreliable party - at the Manteca P.D. is a waste of time, breath, or any other resource. (I'd love to see some dip-shit email him with words of encouragement and support for not enforcing the marijuana laws. Be sure to leave a copy here on a Comment; I'd love to post it!) The former residents had to be forced into structural "compliance" the previous year, although there was an awful lot of collective "sharing" of the more-than-three-persons crop going on. City law requires destruction of excess marijuana, not "sharing" or selling it to persons not holding some perjured doctor's medical recommendation.

Compliance with state law? Barely... California law does contemplate private cooperatives among medical marijuana patients only (but not the so-called cannibis clubs.)

Compliance with Manteca law? Bullshit, Sergeant Mraz! The new residents, relatives of the scofflaw Barefoot Dirty Girls, are openly distributing the crop off the property, which is a clear cut restriction on a collective or cooperative in Manteca's very own officially adopted -- but heroically unenforced! -- Municipal Code (here.) While you're reading subsections F. and G., be sure to also read about not having co-ops in a residential district or next to a school.

Compliance check, my ass! What'd you do, Sergeant Mraz? Read last year's reports? They don't tell you that:

The formerly barely legal residents became non-residents.
The current residents are growing weed for those non-residents (ie., became a co-op.)
The current residents are illegally distributing weed off the property for those non-residents and others.
MMC 8.35.030, subsections F. and G., prohibits co-ops in residential districts and next to schools.

Make sure of your entries on the police department service call logs for that so-called "compliance check." Hell, Sarge, you probably went over, all right... just to pick up your monthly vig of Sierra High (c) whacky tabacky.

It appears the ~~overly~~ ~~highly~~ ~~educated~~ ~~educators~~ administrators at MUSD are willing to ~~trust~~ ~~believe~~ be duped by the ~~underly educated~~ ~~Voc Ed dropouts~~ _?_?_?_ at MPD regarding this law - and breach the duty they owe to the students and parents.

The people of Manteca, and parents within Manteca Unified School District, get exactly what they deserve when they cede authority to such troublemakers, scoundrels, beatniks, bumpkins and bastards!

To honor (or ridicule; they won't know the difference) the rabble of monumental imbeciles ~~on the public dole~~ employed at the Manteca Police Department, I composed alternate words to a ditty seen/heard earlier on this blog:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Little Narc Squabs*

(sung to the catchy little tune of "Little Boxes," here, Season 1, Episode 1.)

[1]
Little narc squabs, in Manteca,
Little narc squabs smoking tacky-tacky,
Little narc squabs, bumbling drug cops,
Little narc squabs; not a brain.

There’s a nose ring, and a tattoo,
And the ones should been fired long ago,
And they all smell of homegrown ticky-tacky
And they all act just the same.

[2]
So the potheads in their grow sheds
Still cultivate with impunity-
They just put some in special boxes
When the narc squabs call again.

Some for Mayor, some for Sergeant,
And a whole host of other City squabs,
’Cause they all toke lots of ticky-tacky
And they look the other way.

[3]
And the kiddies in the schoolyard
See the narc squabs playin' fast and loose;
“What the hell, then, I can smoke, too,”
Is the kiddies’ last refrain.

But the teachers and the principal
And even the Superintendant
Take the word of reeking narc squabs
That there’s nothing going wrong.

[4]
There’s a fox and there’s a henhouse,
And the one’s to keep the other safe.
In Manteca, them’s the narc squabs-
Keep the co-ops nice and green.

There’s a fat one and a thin one
And a pock-faced really ugly one,
And they all smell of homegrown ticky-tacky
And they all act just the same.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* squab (n) 1. A young, newly hatched, or unfledged pigeon. 2. A soft, thick cushion, as for a couch.
(adj) Young and undeveloped; newly hatched or unfledged: "a narc squab."

All these descriptors fit: unfledged, soft, thick... esp. thick...

...

The Return of Cork-Screwed's Old Trailer

2011-09-21T12:19:00.000-07:00

The return of "Cork-Screwed’s old trailer,"
last seen being hauled away on Saturday, May 21st, at 5:46 p.m.

Yes, indeed-ee,

[55]
They came back, the old haunts, looking gray, looking gaunt,
With their hangers-on, tough red-necks all,
For Cork-Screwed’s old trailer, that neighborhood failure,
To set up for the next small town’s fall.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

But, like dogs returning to their vomit... like belching, bloating, gut-wrenching, diarrhea-producing indigestion from one of Rotund Red's TLC Catering truck burritos... the Wilderness Advantage travel trailer is back. Because the last reputed owner was the third-wheel Barefoot Dirty Girl, Cork-Screwed (aka, Cornelia Jane "Corky" Green), its return to storage on this property is another proof of Lyin' Lynda's sham property trade to evade consequences of her/their illegal occupations.

Despite Cork-Screwed's monstrosity being unlicensed for at least four-and-a-half years (2007 through May 21, 2011), someone managed to cough up enough bucks to finally make it road legal in June of this year. (Maybe Bubba bought it? Lotsa drug money floating around...)

Rather than being parked to showcase the BDG's extensive collection of leftover ~~trailer trash~~ inoperable vehicles littering the property, it is parked to hide a broken down vending truck and an inoperable Mobile Food Preparation Unit (MFPU, or, roach coach) from the at-last-defunct, illegal TLC Catering operations.

How is one supposed to make out the FOR SALE signs in the windows of the trashed trucks?

Here's how the boneyard looked last Easter '11 - vehicles are just rearranged.

More importantly, does this ~~free dumping ground~~ continued storage for live and dead vehicles mean that Cork-Screwed, Resectioned Red, and Lyin' Lynda are close enough to Manteca to continually make reappearances at their Sierra High (c) Marijuana Cooperative Farm at 810 Fishback Street?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Bubba must be so proud to be so used...)

...
Oh, where were the boys
To use as my toys?
...

BDG Origins: "How We'as Raised!"

2011-08-25T17:33:00.000-07:00

The Oakland Dog

by Ambrose Bierce,

from Beetles in Black Amber

I lay one happy night in bed
And dreamed that all the dogs were dead.
They'd all been taken out and shot--
Their bodies strewed each vacant lot.

O'er all the earth, from [Pinole] down
To San Leandro's ancient town,
And out in space as far as Niles--
I saw their mortal parts in piles.

One stack upreared its ridge so high
Against the azure of the sky
That some good soul, with pious views,
Put up a steeple and sold pews.

No wagging tail the scene relieved:
I never in my life conceived
(I swear it on the Decalogue!)
Such penury of living dog.

The barking and the howling stilled,
The snarling with the snarler killed,
All nature seemed to hold its breath:
The silence was as deep as death.

True, candidates were all in roar
On every platform, as before;
And villains, as before, felt free
To finger the calliope.

True, the Salvationist by night,
And milkman in the early light,
The lonely flutist and the mill
Performed their functions with a will.

True, church bells on a Sunday rang
The sick man's curtain down--the bang
Of trains, contesting for the track,
Out of the shadow called him back.

True, cocks, at all unheavenly hours,
Crew with excruciating powers,
Cats on the woodshed rang and roared,
Fat citizens and fog-horns snored.

But this was all too fine for ears
Accustomed, through the awful years,
To the nocturnal monologues
And day debates of Oakland dogs.

And so the world was silent. Now
What else befell--to whom and how?
Imprimis, then, there were no fleas,
And days of worth brought nights of ease.

Men walked about without the dread
Of being torn to many a shred,
Each fragment holding half a cruse
Of hydrophobia's quickening juice.

They had not to propitiate
Some curst kioodle at each gate,
But entered one another's grounds,
Unscared, and were not fed to hounds.

Women could drive and not a pup
Would lift the horse's tendons up
And let them go--to interject
A certain musical effect.

Even children's ponies went about,
All grave and sober-paced, without
A bulldog hanging to each nose--
Proud of his fragrance, I suppose.

Dog being dead, Man's lawless flame
Burned out: he granted Woman's claim,
Children's and those of country, art--
all took lodgings in his heart.

When memories of his former shame
Crimsoned his cheeks with sudden flame
He said; "I know my fault too well--
They fawned upon me and I fell."

Ah! 'twas a lovely world!--no more
I met that indisposing bore,
The unseraphic cynogogue--
The [hags] who's proud to love a dog.

Thus in my dream the golden reign
Of Reason filled the world again,
And all mankind confessed her sway,
From Walnut Creek to San Jose.

[...Because L/L and R/R - and all their dogs! - moved to Manteca.]

.

Seen One, Seen All Three

2011-08-10T14:57:00.000-07:00

Some of The More Famous Tetons

How does a man respond to wickedness?
Some sulk, some fulminate, or pray, or curse.
My choice has always been to turn to verse
To neutralize the causes of my distress.

And this may be why my satire appears
So gentle, with spines and thorns that are intermixed
With flowers. I don't expect the world to be fixed,
And laughter serves my purpose better than tears.

The Regrets, Joachim Du Bellay (c. 1522 – d. 1560) (trans: David R. Slavitt, 2004)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The thoughts and verses, above and below, are those of highly acclaimed French Renaissance poets, although the English words were supplied by scholarly and talented translators.

The stark contrast between the following two Clément Marot epigrammes illustrates that when a woman goes wrong, she goes horribly wrong. (Or, worse, when a threesome of them go wrong, they become Hell Incarnate.) Rather than fulfilling her call to heavenly grace, she becomes instead an instrument of torture and bondage; she fails to help lift the heavy burdens of life, contrarily adding only misery atop those burdens. The object - the breast - is merely a methphor for "The body whole of [the] possessor," and the mind and spirit besides. This dichotomy really has nothing to do with youth or age, physical tautness or sag; but, like beauty or ugliness, peace or hysteria, emanates from within.

Du beau Tetin (Of the Fair Breast)

.....Breast, whiter than an egg, and quite
As smooth as satin, fresh and white:
Breast that would shame the rose; plump Breast,
Of all things known, the lovliest;
Firm Breast, indeed, not Breast at all;
Rather, a small, round ivory ball,
And in the middle, a cherry placed,
Or berry, and with such beauty graced
That, though I neither touch nor see
It bare, I vow such must it be.
Breast red-tipped; Breast taut, and that never
Waggles about, whithersoever,
Coming or going, running, leaping;
Left Breast - coy, sweet - your distance keeping,
Properly, from your mate, discreet.
Breast that reflects, from top to teat,
The body whole of your possessor!
Ah! Were I but her breast-caresser!
Many's the man that, when he sees you,
Tingles with lust to hold and squeeze you;
But he must rein his appetite,
Never draw near lest soon he might
Burn with a fire quite otherwise!
.....O Breast of perfect shape and size,
Alluring Breast, who, night and day,
Cry: "Find me a husband, quick, I pray!"
Breast swelling full and comely; Breast
Quick to add inches to her chest;
Ah! Right the man who says that he
Is blest who fills you generously
With milk, to turn you, ma petite,
From virgin's Breast to Breast complete.

Lyrics of the French Renaissance, Clément Marot (1496-1544), Epigrammes, I, LXXIX (trans: Norman R. Shapiro, 2002)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Source: Danny Henessey / Artdoxa

Du laid Tetin (Of the Ugly Breast)

.....Breast, nothing more than scraggy skin;
Breast with no solid flesh within;
Sagging and loose, like swaying flag,
Or - dare I say? - a saddlebag!
Black gross-tipped teat, long, ugly (very!),
Funnel-like, that an ordinary
Touch will set wagging in the breeze.
And should, perchance, one choose to seize
Your flaccid form, well may he crow:
"I lend a hand to knead sour dough!"
Breast dry as dust, breast drooping free;
Breast withered, limp, whence loathsomely
Not milk but muck comes oozing, spewing:
Vile Breast, the very devil's doing.
Breast foul as tripe; Breast I would not
Be much bemused to learn was got
From some old she-goat, lying dead;
Breast wrought in Hell, that might have fed
Lucifer's child; long, swagging sack
Fit to be slung athwart the back,
Over the shoulder, like a cape
Of yesteryear, round neck and nape.
Many's the hand that, when one sees you,
Quakes with disgust, forthwith, to squeeze you-
Well gloved, perforce!- and flail the face
Of her who hides you in disgrace.
Pendulous Breast, gaunt, misbegotten,
Ah, what a smell, abhorrent, rotten,
Wafts from the sweat that you secrete:
Civets and scents galore, replete
With stench, I warrant, that might choke
A hundred thousand gentlefolk.
.....Breast that makes nature blush with shame
To call you Breast; you who defame
The very name of Breast; the first
Among the foulest and the worst;
Breast with your nipple suppurating
Slime - putrid, noxious, nauseating...
By George! - the saint, that is - no more!
Shit, pen be still! Be silent, or,
If you keep writing so, no doubt
I'll retch and puke my innards out.

Marot (trans: Shapiro), ibid., Epigrammes, I, LXXX

- - - - - - - - - - -

.

Barefoot in Hell's Kitchens: Frequent Impalements

2011-08-02T16:21:00.000-07:00

source:

Barefoot in Hell's Kitchens:
Frequent Impalements

[1]
Reviewing the Animus, the Actively Scamming-Us,

Of Vile Neighbors- Lying, Horrendous;

The Blathering, Dawdling and Stupidly Twaddling

Of Corrupted Manteca's Officious;

[2]
Jack Courts, and Jill Judges, Stuft Lawyers (the Fudges),

F'd Up Beyond All Recognition (FUBAR).

If This Is to End, Please, God, Quickly Send

Fire and Brimstone or, At Least, a QWATUR.

= = = = = = = =

[3]

A morning to die for! Another clubbed gopher!
This daybreak is my cup of tea.
God, I wish the same for my southerly neighbor
And then I would truly be free.

[4]

The setting to tell this story 'bout Hell
Is Manteca, a small bad-ass town,
Where bullshit runs deep, slows things to a creep;
Its odor is hard to keep down.

[5]

Be warned at the fore there are arms, legs galore
And more shit to spread thickly around;
Fat cats, and their knobs, and wee Pinole cobs,
Contribute the loud brassey sound.

In her own words:

[6]

"Our company's called TLC."
[A falsehood from A clear through Z.]
"That grandfather bloke
Was dreamt up to cloak
Our bare-assed il-le-gal-i-ty."

So said, we now resume the narrative:

[7]

Despite the loud screeches of Three Rabid Beaches,
This business was simply not legal
To have in their yard– nor the mobile home, ‘tard!-
TLC? No! but pretensions were regal. (*1)

[8]

Their visages mousy and roach coaches lousy,
Where dogs, cats, and chickens all shat,
Round Red and Skin Green both kissed up the Queen,
Sold her dope to put coins in the hat.

[9]

Short, stumpy Red's dumpy, the picture of frumpy,
Blessed with half of a keen half a brain;
She cooks; she hooks; her dishwater looks
Mere bubbles as she swirls down the drain.

[10]

The smallest of packages, the biggest of lackages
And the shrillest of keening high vocals,
The prime BDG (*2), "Hear me, but don't see,"
L/L (Lyin' Lynda) scares all the piss out of locals.

[11]

The deliberate horrors of these ice-pimping whores
Caused the Stewarts an early demise;
The complete lack of sleep kept their depression deep.
All for chorros, burritos, and fries?

Another word?

[12]

"Aboon them a', thee skelpit twats!
Thegither we be thrivin';
They be nae pintles t' gar us loup,
But damn braw triple rivin'!"

Pardoning that unfathomable ejaculation...

[13]

Should you ever get stuck ‘hind a catering truck,
Please know that they simply are cooled
With buckets of ice, dog slobber and mice;
Beware the street drain! Don’t be fooled.

[14]

Midnights were nice... 'cept for crashing of ice
Into five-gallon white plastic buckets!
The icemaker hummed, then it squealed and it thrummed,
While "Lil Brother" did doggie snout dunk-its.

[15]

Deliveries at six- and at four in betwixt-
At eleven, the Darling grease monster;
Truck trips quite a few to Costco: "Yoo-Hoo!
We need sodas and that doggie food - Chompster."

[16]

Great barrels of grease; trash stacked to the trees;
The whole story strains one’s disbelief.
To ask it, to sigh it, to pine for some quiet
Became number one goal for relief.

[17]

One big piece of flotsam– the ancient, loud Scotsman–
Lyin' Lynda's most precious sex toy;
'Til it lost its Freon... and juice wouldn’t stay on...
Her flaccid, deflated life joy.

[18]

The fridges, the freezers, all six canine sneezers,
Shared space with the vast fleet of trucks
Cramped onto the lot, where they really ought not;
A false catering front for the schmucks.

[19]

Back to droppings bovine, which are 'specially divine
‘Round that place which is called City Hall,
Where po-lice, and fire, and more thugs for hire
Each has his/her well-padded stall;

[20]

Just fork in the tax! The chiefs start to relax
And the milk lets down inside their udders.
But call and complain, and you’re met with disdain;
Per-spi-cu-i-ty (*3) brings on them full shudders.

[21]

Ambrose (*4) did confer (and I- hell, yes!- concur)
His tragically funny description
Of Planning's, Enforcement's, obstructive deportments
And their earned- well-deserved!- malediction.

[22]

To them: What’s the law? Just something to gnaw-
No reason to rush into action;
All that noise nuisance stuff is surely enough
To induce gross adverse stu-pe-fac-tion (*5).

[23]

For twenty-three years the icemaker jeers
And the spoutings of shrill Lyin’ Lynda
Made her protestation of true annexation
The big lie of a dried up, old spinsta’.

[24]

The resident _unts pulled some stupid-ass stunts,
Like growing Sierra High © weed,
And parking more toys, and making more noise
Than anyone ever should need.

[25]

Such was the case when brought to the place
Where councils, in all their great wisdom,
Are to hear out each side and– just maybe?!- decide
To enforce their own city’s provision.

[26]

Mister Oleander spoke goose and spoke gander,
Couldn’t seem to at all get a fix.
Among all the rest, if he is the best,
This parochial town’s run by hicks.

[27]

The Decibel Man kept harping old plan
Replaced by him just the year prior.
He got Rex-O-Saurus to join in his chorus;
They threw city law in the fire.

[28]

Just kicking the can, the verbose Milk Man
Spun great webs of airy, fine words.
Yet still, in the end, his will made a bend;
His vote plopped!… just like great milk cow turds.

[29]

Quite late, some attorney wheezed sounds from his gurney
And roiled the mud up right royal;
His fork’d, serpent tongue first flapped, then it stung.
Our tax money made sure he stayed loyal.

[30]

So on to the Mayor, who tried to use prayer
To usurp his namesake, Holy Willie (*6).
His odorous rants (through the seat of his pants)
Made his sucrose orations sound silly.

[31]

Assigning old blame is this council's game-
Not fixing the final solution.
With a genius motion (a fresh hemlock potion)
They washed their hands– causing pollution.

[32]

What low-down, lily-livered, yellow-bellied hounds!
There wasn’t e’en a woman among them
To stand for the right and remove the blight,
Their supposed modus operandum.

[33]

Ah, yes, ain’t it nice? They give free advice,
Which is sure to be worth every cent.
They smirk, fart, and snort, “Take L/L to court.
Our political mojo’s not spent.”

[34]

With research compiled and first papers filed,
A lawsuit was thus set in motion.
The evil return? An eighteen month burn-
A LOUD increase in backyard commotion!

[35]

We now meet two charmers, paid beagles from Farmers,
Who came on the drear reservation
Espousing a claim of righteous domain-
Held solely in imagination;

[36]

Blind shareholders must put way too much trust
In these goons who give no thought to rules.
If there is a buck these fools can muck,
Then there go our rights, lives, and tools.

[37]

Oh, retaliation! L/L’s new installation
Of radio, speaker and wire,
Was the bitch’s bright notion (her full term abortion)
Of which she seemed never to tire;

[38]

Every morning at seven, this musical maven,
Blear-eyed, slithered out to her shop;
Without fail the witch would toggle the switch
And fill each new day with her slop.

[39]

Tell me it warn’t so?! Yes, ma’am, I do trow
That fake rock and her head looked the same;
They both had a mouth that suffered no drought,
And the points on the tops very plain.

[40]

On Easter of ’10, this fart-for-brain hen
Turned her radio up, then departed.
The cops came at noon, heard the notes and the croon,
And ticketed the noise that she started.

[41]

With the city fast sinking in red ink- and stinking [bullshit]-
I stood for a council election;
But the voters all said, Pile more on our head,
And they made their olfactory selection.

[42]

So, four years of more what went on before.
The people have begun to falter
While Manteca brass gets office-chair ass;
The cows will fit horses to halter.

[43]

The summer was hot; the music was not;
Played constantly to beat the bands.
Yet Joaquin and Alex (*7), dogs Castor and Pollux,
Let the speaker slip right through their hands.

[44]

With cameras up high to blanket the sky,
The Dirty Girls spied on their neighbor.
A calendar quarter he suffered disorder
‘Til his own eyes returned their fell favor.

[45]

That got the old goats- they practically choked!-
Cranked their music up and started toking.
The returning cop said the music must stop
And informed them their rap sheet was smoking. (*8)

[46]

With impotent flailing, they tried to go sailing
With big tarps and some very tall timbers
To block direct view of the shit that they do.
Winter winds blew those masts into splinters!

What Lyin' Lynda really means to say:

[47]

“Our aim’s to provide some strange weed
To the sickly-- (and those in sore need.)
A big toke or two-
Flush brains down the loo.
No refunds on claims of bad seed.”

[48]

“Hey, we got drug business to run;
Kill you all without use of a gun–
Not body, but spirit-
And don’t you dare queer it!
(We do that with ourselves, just for fun. ;-) )”

Getting on with it...

[49]

Thought they had learned, but their baked weed-brains burned
And their cameras stayed still in place–
Until one went, "Crack!" ("We’re under attack!")
Taken out by a BB gun ace.

[50]

L/L screeched! Ear-split pishing! Off'cer "Herb" came a-fishing
With camos, guns, search warrants, O' me!
An hour they toss for gold, but get dross,
On the say-so of Ass-bay-yawwwn-ee.

[51]

The judge and DA met most of a day
To cipher if they had a clue.
Their final conclusion: gross mental contusion (*9).
So, what’s the infraction? Who knew?

[52]

On Easter ’11, the twits rooossse up to heaven
(At least, they’re not found on the earth!);
No more cackling voices; Mom Gaia rejoices,
But naught can repair their scorched turf.

[53]

A nephew called Bubba, and his hot hubba-hubba (*10),
Moved into the departed’s place.
Much traffic is showing the MJ’s still growing-
L/L's business still running apace.

[54]

Tick-Tock! Tick-Tock! The BDG’s clock
Musta’ rung, ‘cause they came back (!) on time
To stay HIGH... on top of their herbal cash crop,
Which the dopers all claim’s not a crime.

[55]

They came back, the old haunts, looking gray, looking gaunt,
With their hangers-on, tough red-necks all,
For Cork-Screwed’s old trailer, that neighborhood failure,
To set up for the next small town’s fall.

[56]

The lawyers all say that, real soon, some day,
This suit must slip out of its traces;
The Beaches skedaddled, with the queerest death rattle,
To save their Medusa-like faces.

[57]

Save face! Save face! The plague of the race,
A vile, insipid invention.
Man up to the sneers, the cat-calls, and jeers;
Be glad, at least *negative* attention...

[58]

Order established– and all five books published-
One illegal land use now ended.
But here we are, stuck, with stinky bad luck-
The "grow hydroponic" well tended.

[59]

There is nothing mystical about the logistical
Arrangements to move all that weed-
Simply alternate weeks- swap filled trucks with the freaks
Who sell dope for the BDG's greed.

[60]

A simple deception (that's L/L's perception),
Just like the fake property swap.
Real hard to pin down as she drives a new town
Still slinging her hash. ("Jus' cain't stop!")

[61]

So, what of that co-op, school mom, school pop,
With an AWOL Manteca narc squad?
The law is an ass when it comes to queer grass.
P’rhaps the school board will give it the nod?

[62]

Thus ends the foul war that I early had swore
Would wage red hot until I prevail;
Some storms, some clouds; at last, the death shrouds
'Cross her ugly, small life. Back to Hell!

Back To Hell With You!

[63]
The prime use of land and the particular brand
Of the BDG’s pot, I’m remanding.
It’s now between God and the Manteca sods;
They can flip for jurisdictional standing.

[64]

{God: Gimme a QWATUR.}
{Manteca: F’ you! We stole it fair and square.}

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Footnotes:

(*1) TLC Catering - what does it mean? The TLC could stand for many things, but the acronyms with perfect applicability are:

Three Lying __unts.
or
Thievin', Lyin', Cheatin' __unts.

See this post for a more full exploration of the subject.

(*2) Barefoot Dirty Girls (BDG’s): Name obtained from a customer complaint, recorded by Environmental Health Department catering truck inspectors in the field on 7/19/1999. (It is incredulous to imagine any - or all - of these bitchy broads being called “girls.”)

“Both girls are dirty, but one is very dirty–
does not wear shoes and feet are black with dirt.”

ALPHA bitch: Lynda Sue Allen, from Pinole, CA. Appropriately known as Lyin' Lynda; a.k.a. L/L; a.k.a. Auntie Lyn (self-styled.)
BETA bitch: Theresa Ann "Red" Brassey, a redhead from San Leandro, CA; a.k.a. Rotund Red, Roly-Poly Red, Resectioned Red, and all other appropriate descriptors that start with the letter "R."
GAMMA bitch: Cornelia Jane "Corky" Green, from the "southerly" side of some rock; a.k.a. Guts[y] Green (for her prominent muffin-top); a.k.a. Skin Green (for her compulsion to exhibit her belly-flab.)

(*3) Per'-spi-cu'-i-ty (n) Clearness or lucidity, as of a statement. Synonyms: 1. clarity, plainness, intelligibility. 2. transparency. 3. derived from a Latin word meaning “to see through,” i.e., clearness of style or exposition, freedom from obscurity. Antonyms: dimness, opacity.

(*4) Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914.) An American journalist and author; a contemporary of Mark Twain. Here is his Devil's Dictionary entry for Commonwealth, in describing a government entity:

COMMONWEALTH, n. An administrative entity operated by an incalculable multitude of political parasites.

.
This commonwealth's capitol's corridors view,
So thronged with a hungry and indolent crew
Of clerks, pages, porters and all attachés
Whom rascals appoint and the populace pays
That a cat cannot slip through the thicket of shins
Nor hear its own shriek for the noise of their chins.

On clerks and on pages, and porters, and all,
Misfortune attend and disaster befall!

May life be to them a succession of hurts;
May fleas by the bushel inhabit their shirts;
May aches and disease encamp in their bones,
Their lungs full of tubercles, bladders of stones;
May microbes, bacilli, their tissues infest,
And tapeworms securely their bowels digest;
May corn-cobs be snared without hope in their hair,
And frequent impalement their pleasure impair.

Disturbed be their dreams by the awful discourse
Of audible sofas sepulchrally hoarse,
By chairs acrobatic and wavering floors-
The mattress that kicks and the pillow that snores!

Sons of cupidity, cradled in sin!
Your criminal ranks may the death angel thin,
Avenging a friend whom I couldn't work in.
..........................K.Q.

(*5) Stu'-pe-fac'-tion (n) 1. the state of being stupefied; stupor. 2. overwhelming amazement or astonishment.

(*6) Holy Willie's Prayer, by Robert Burns

[sixth stanza]
O Lord, Thou kens what zeal I bear,
When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear,
An' singing here, an' dancin there,
Wi' great and sma';
For I am keepit by Thy fear
Free frae them a'.

(*7) Foreign language speaking handymen; also doubled as radio-playing yard guards during the BDG's absences.

(*8) Black Beetles in Amber (A Celebrated Case), by Ambrose Bierce.

...
The Judge on the bench he looked awfully stern;
The District Attorney began to attorn;
The witnesses lied and the lawyers--O my!--
Sing too-ral, i-oo-ral, i-oo-ral, i-yi.

The chap that defended her said: "It's our claim
That he loved us no longer and told us the same.
What else than we did could we decently do?--
Sing too-ral, i-oo-ral, i-oo-ral, i-oo."
...

(*9) Con-tu'-sion (n) Injury (to tissue), usu. without laceration; bruise.

(*10) Purely literary license as to the "hot" part.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

.
.

The True Meaning of T.L.C. (Yes, Virginia, There Is A Grinch.)

2011-08-01T12:18:00.000-07:00

T-Boz, Left Eye, and Chilli (TLC)

I hate to think of the last four years, wracking my brain, trying to think of the true meaning of TLC! All that wasted time! All that being Mr. Nice Guy, giving the benefit of the doubt to the three poor, miserable wretches ekeing out a living selling chips and sodas {and something weird wrapped in tortillas.} All that vain worry about the Barefoot Dirty Girls chilling their foodstuffs with ice flecked with doggie saliva, and upside down ice buckets used as step stools in the dirt.

Wherever did those hillbillies from the Contra Costa come up with this acronym?

Did it mean (as most people think) Tender Loving Care? Perish the thought! That is completely contradicted by the personalities, mannerisms and lives of the BDG's. It is not cosmically possible.

Maybe they named it after "T-Boz" (Tionne Watkins), "Left Eye" (Lisa Lopes), and "Chilli" (Rozonda Thomas), the BDG's alter egos in a girl band called TLC. Strong possibility here but, with such an horrible accident of naming, those girls do not deserve to be painted with the BDG's broad acid brush. The BDG's possessed absolutely NO musical abilities whatsoever and, besides, they fancied themselves more like these three:

Did it stand for (Rotund Red) ~~Teresa~~ ~~Teressa~~ Theresa Brassey, (Lyin') Lynda Allen and (Guts[y]) Corky Green? No, not if the name was chosen before T & L moved to Manteca, because flabby Guts[y] joined the ménage à trois later. Good try, though.

Could its intuitive etymology confirm Three Lying ~~_unts~~... uhn, Three Lying Culinaries? Getting warmer!

How about Three Little Pigs? (Aw, come on!) Colder.

Ok, Ok...

"L" is easy, it's a given - the embodiment and immortalization of L/L, or Lyin' Lynda.

"C" has a narrow array of possibilities, primarily ~~Cxxt~~, Culinary, and Cod Liver Oil; or, in light of patterns being repeated recently with non-payment of taxes, the winner is Cheat. Now, something for:

"T"... Taxes? {No, too repetitious} Three? {No, too mundane for such goddesses} Hmm... Lie, Cheat,... Steal! Ahhh, ahhh... Thieving!

Three truly perfect descriptors for the Satan spawn downwind!

- The true meaning of TLC Catering -

Thievin', Lyin', Cheatin' ~~Cxxts~~ Culinaries

The Barefoot Dirty Girls have forever tainted the acronym, TLC. Whoever uses it in the future will suffer under its poisonous stigma. Never will I think of TLC the same way again.

.

Sierra High Pot Co-op Still Thrives!

2011-07-28T11:40:00.000-07:00

Illegal marijuana cooperative at 810 Fishback Street,
with Sierra High School buildings in background.

Here is Manteca's definition of a marijuana cultivation cooperative:

“Medical marijuana collective,” “medical marijuana cooperative,” “collective,” or “cooperative” shall mean a location where medical marijuana is cultivated collectively or cooperatively by more than one qualified patient, person with an identification card or primary caregiver, as described in California Health and Safety Code Section 11362.775. (Chapter 8.35 CULTIVATION AND POSSESSION OF MEDICAL MARIJUANA)

Given the ineptitudes of Manteca law enforcement, the backsliding perversities of San Joaquin prosecutors, and county and state judges who greedily insist on rewriting law from the bench, even the "more than one" phrase has been adulterated to encompass all residents within one property. But even the debased definition of "more than one" user has limits; it does not allow for users from other properties (non-residents) to share in the cultivation on a property not their residence, unless such a "sharing" arrangement is registered as a cooperative or collective.

8.35.030 Cultivation restrictions.

F. Requirements for Collectives or Cooperatives. A cooperative or collective must file articles of incorporation with the state and conduct its business for the mutual benefit of its members. No business may call itself a cooperative or collective unless it is properly organized and registered as such a corporation under the Corporations or Food and Agriculture Code of California. Cooperatives or collectives must follow strict rules on organization, articles, elections, and distribution of earnings, and must report individual transactions from individual members each year. Cooperative or collective corporations are democratically controlled and are not organized to make a profit for themselves, as such, or for their members, as such, but primarily for their members as patrons. They must be nonprofit operations. The cooperative or collective must not purchase marijuana from, or sell to, nonmembers; instead, it must only provide a means for facilitating or coordinating cultivation projects, including the allocation of costs between members.

Observations of such obvious contempt for and breaking of law by Lyin' Lynda Sue Allen, Theresa Ann Brassey, and Cornelia Jane Green are commonplace. It has gone on for years, decades, documented in this blog, while Manteca officials sit by, eyes closed, gently rocking and humming in their corners. The three scofflaws named above vacated the property at 810 Fishback Street on Saturday, April 23, 2011, and turned the pot farming operation over to a relative. Yet they still return regularly (June 27 and July 27, pictured above) to collect their collective crop. Other arrangements have also been made for delivery service.

"Ah, ha!" you say, "Why are you telling this stuff to the Barefoot Dirty Girls? Won't they just turn around and register their co-op and make everything all legal-like on paper? After all, aren't they successful businesswomen who [illegally] ran an catering truck enterprise for decades from that very same property?"

All good questions. Here is the answer: It is prohibited for medical marijuana users, under both California state law and Manteca city code, to operate such a cooperative within 1,000 feet of a residential district or school - or, in this case, on an R-1 property and zero feet from Sierra High School. Yet, here are the BDG's doing it anyway - this is yet another example of "who they are."

MMC 8.35.030 Cultivation restrictions.

G. Collective or Cooperative Cultivation. For the collective or cooperative cultivation of marijuana, such cultivation shall be prohibited within any residential districts as defined by the Manteca Municipal Code or within one thousand feet of any residential district, school, recreation center, or youth center.

In October of last year, I posted this prediction: The Beginning of a New Illegal Business Operation? Well, here it is City of Manteca and Manteca Unified School District! A new, illegal drug business, in a residential district, right next to Sierra High School, right under your insentient* noses! I'm sure Manteca's police department will come up with one or another of their well-polished excuses for their incompetence [bad], official ignorance [worse], or active abetting [worst] of these prohibited activities. It would be nice if they spoke up and didn't mumble so.

(What is that dried green stuff... oregano?... in the pizza sauce?)
(I dunno... Duh! Let's ask Off'cer "H__b". He's gotta know his weed, if not the law.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* in·sen·ti·ent (adj) Devoid of sensation or consciousness; incapable of feeling or understanding things; inanimate.
.

The New Manteca Cow-Tipping

2011-07-27T11:47:00.000-07:00

Pic from Michael Bluejay's web page on Burning Man porta-potty etiquette

Two-Holey Latrines, Batman! Those Pop Warner parents and kids must eat some really weird shit! (Sorry... it's shit when it comes out their asses, not when it goes in their pie-holes.) I wonder if any of them actually got their feces *inside* the holding tank because the new A&A Shit Shack smells like an open pit latrine instead of a porta-potty. The stench is overpowering. I imagine the inside looking like this:

After the Manteca Unified School District meeting last night, I was told that the problem was resolved and the Crap Shack was moved. I looked the gent in the eye and told him the offending outhouse was still in place and stenching up the whole neighborhood - that is, they moved the wrong one! (If one was moved at all...)

Yup, the new one on Fishback is still *undeniably* in place on my driveway and a drive down the Wawona Street block this morning showed those three plastic turd buckets still in place. Somebody at MUSD or at A&A Shit Shacks has his/her head up his/her ass. (They must love the smell, or they're writing reflective haikus for decorating Burning Man porta-potties.)

The man had - shall we say, crappy? - intelligence from the field. It's a good thing a map was drawn for him for his use in a redux.

- - - - -

Burning Man Tips: Help for the Porta-Potty Shy

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Afternoon update:
The outhouse has been moved, but still upwind. Thirteen sections of fence, about 8 feet each, the shit can is now about 100 feet away.

Life Lessons, Ambrose Bierce Style

2011-07-26T11:49:00.000-07:00

Cover of edition by Dark Moon Prees

Last year I used the definition of Politics supplied by Amrose Bierce in his classic work, The Devil's Dictionary. (And in a fabulous introspect, A.B. vindicates his own contribution, ie., DICTIONARY, n. A malevolent literary device for cramping the growth of a language and making it hard and inelastic. This dictionary, however is a most useful work.) It is time again to turn to Mr. Bierce and his elastic dictionary, rather than Mr. Webster's tablets of stone, to interpret the events of the past few years, chronicled in the foregoing 300+ blog posts.

PAST, n. That part of Eternity with some small fraction of which we have a slight and regrettable acquaintance. A moving line called The Present parts it from an imaginary period known as the future. These two grand division of Eternity, of which the one is continually effacing the other, are entirely unlike. The one is dark with sorrow and disappointment, the other bright with prosperity and joy.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Note: In direct contrast to a blasted four-year PAST, there is a bright FUTURE ahead...

Future, n. That period of time in which our affairs prosper, our friends are true and our happiness is assured [and our quiet undisturbed].

... at least, undying hope for that FUTURE.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yes, indeed, "sorrow and disappointment" were the scanty gleanings of the PAST, scratched from the tainted rocks of 810 Fishback Street and the barren fields of 1001 W Center Street in Manteca, California. Those street addresses are/were, respectively, the gravel business yard of scofflaw neighbors and the even more detestible makers, but non-upholders, of local ordinances at City Hall.

Ah, a neighbor! A most interesting, complex, ephemeral, amorphous, necessary, inescapable concept. Our featured lexicographer elaborates thusly:

NEIGHBOR, n. One whom we are commanded to love as ourselves, and who does all she knows how to make us disobedient.

In the present case, all the neighbor problems stem from Lyin' Lynda's lies and deceptions. Of course, she and they will deny that and cop to no more than a fib.

Fib, n. A lie that has not cut its teeth. An habitual liar's nearest approach to truth.

Yes, everyone who intersects our existence is our neighbor, but it should be obvious that a contemporaneous, yet unmet and unknown, inhabitant on the far side of the globe receives far less of our expenditures of emotion, time, thought, or money than one who lives just opposite a surveyed property line.

Great Neighbors - those with whom you seek to associate; followers of the Mosaic Ten Commandments, the two Great Laws of Christ's Gospel, and the twelve points of the Boy Scout Law; friends, confidants, family by choice rather than birth, and so forth.
Good Neighbors - those who demonstrate restraint and accomodation, and otherwise mind their own business, not making their business yours, nor yours theirs.
Bad Neighbors - those who lack maturity or judgment; whose thoughtless actions and gossipy intrusions, though disturbing on occasion, are generally without malice.
Neighbors From Hell - those for whom the word "Hell" was invented in the first place to describe their effect on anyone who intersects their individual-sized worlds.

While the Devil's Dictionary does not have an entry for HELL, it does have entries for HEAVEN and HADES, so we can figure out what those places are, leaving all other exigencies as a working picture of HELL.

HEAVEN, n. A place where the wicked cease from troubling you with talk of their personal affairs, and the good listen with attention while you expound your own.

HADES, n. The lower world; the residence of departed spirits; the place where the dead live.

Among the ancients the idea of Hades was not synonymous with our Hell, many of the most respectable men of antiquity residing there in a very comfortable kind of way. Indeed, the Elysian Fields themselves were a part of Hades, though they have since been removed to Paris.

When the Jacobean version of the New Testament was in process of evolution the pious and learned men engaged in the work insisted by a majority vote on translating the Greek word "Aides" as "Hell"; but a conscientious minority member secretly possessed himself of the record and struck out the objectional word wherever he could find it. At the next meeting, the Bishop of Salisbury, looking over the work, suddenly sprang to his feet and said with considerable excitement: "Gentlemen, somebody has been razing 'Hell' here!"

Years afterward the good prelate's death was made sweet by the reflection that he had been the means (under Providence) of making an important, serviceable and immortal addition to the phraseology of the English tongue.

Having reviewed the attributes of various sorts of neighbors and their abilities to "raze Hell," we now turn our attention to the municipal corporation (such as the City of Manteca) charged with enforcing the laws which support the lofty goals of securing our persons, properties and rights, and enabling our pursuits of happiness. The devilishly exquisite entry for such a governmental entity is:

COMMONWEALTH, n. An administrative entity operated by an incalculable multitude of political parasites, logically active but fortuitously efficient.
This commonwealth's capitol's corridors view,
So thronged with a hungry and indolent crew
Of clerks, pages, porters and all attaches
Whom rascals appoint and the populace pays
That a cat cannot slip through the thicket of shins
Nor hear its own shriek for the noise of their chins.
On clerks and on pages, and porters, and all,
Misfortune attend and disaster befall!
May life be to them a succession of hurts;
May fleas by the bushel inhabit their shirts;
May aches and disease encamp in their bones,
Their lungs full of tubercles, bladders of stones;
May microbes, bacilli, their tissues infest,
And tapeworms securely their bowels digest;
May corn-cobs be snared without hope in their hair,
And frequent impalement their pleasure impair.
Disturbed be their dreams by the awful discourse
Of audible sofas sepulchrally hoarse,
By chairs acrobatic and wavering floors-
The mattress that kicks and the pillow that snores!
Sons of cupidity, cradled in sin!
Your criminal ranks may the death angel thin,
Avenging a friend whom I couldn't work in.
..........................K.Q.

The references to sleep disturbing "audible sofas", "acrobatics", "kicks", and "snores" could just as well be stand-ins for a 24/7 cycling commercial icemaker; hours of manually scooped ice crashing into plastic buckets; rusty, squeaky wheelbarrows of those ice-filled buckets; slamming freezers, garbage bins, doors; and shouts of, "Where ya' at?!", all of which - and more! - were part and parcel of the open illegality known as TLC Catering operating during midnight hours on property not zoned for it.

Of course, the poetic intimations of psychedelic hallucinations may refer to the vast amounts of marijuana consumed by these hellish business owners. Which also explains their absolute absence of thought regarding anyone else in the world trying to sleep during their early morning bumbulations.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Living next to these hellions in this backwater cow town brought a few life lessons home.

#1 - Shoot first, ask questions later. (Hey, easy there, trigger-happy MPD! Just kidding...)

O.K. ...

#1 - Noise, n. A stench in the ear. Undomesticated music. The chief product and authenticating sign of civilization. (Closer, but still not quite the life lessons referred to.)

Alright, already! Please, have:

#1 - Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as virtue.

#2 - Experience, n. The wisdom that enables us to recognize as an undesirable old acquaintance the folly that we have already embraced.

To one who, journeying through night and fog,
Is mired neck-deep in an unwholesome bog,
Experience, like the rising of dawn,
Reveals the path that he should not have gone.
..................Joel Frad Bink

#3 - Existence, n.

A transient, horrible, fantastic dream,
Wherein is nothing, yet all things do seem:
From which we're wakened by a friendly nudge
Of our bedfellow Death, and cry: "O fudge!"

#4 - The law is a[n] ass. (Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, Chapter 51)

Lawyer, n. One skilled in circumvention of the law.

Justice, n. A commodity which, in a more or less adulterated condition, the State sells to the citizen as a reward for his allegiance, taxes and personal service.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

My sincerest wish for the Barefoot Dirty Girls, Yellow, Red and Green, is that they hastily and forever enter into:

Oblivion, n. The state or condition in which the wicked cease from struggling and the dreary are at rest. Fame's eternal dumping ground. Cold storage for high hopes. A place where ambitious authors meet their works without pride and their betters without envy. A dormitory without an alarm clock.

Political Shit

2011-07-22T17:20:00.000-07:00

Uh... Uhh... I gotta go Number 1 !

This morning, an A&A Crap Shacks truck was blocking my driveway (using it as a loading/unloading zone) while delivering the newest addition to the sights and smells of Manteca. The driver only shrugged and claimed to be a simple delivery man, simply following orders, when I asked if it could be installed away from my driveway.

Whose orders? Manteca Unified School District? or their renters, Pop Warner Football and Cheer (Manteca Chargers)?

Who woulda thought taking a dump was such a political matter?

For many years, Pop Warner Football and Cheer has been renting the practice field at Sierra High. For all those years, the rental contracts must not have allowed use of school bathrooms. (Oh my, oh my, I've got a bladder disability! I demand the right to pee!) Suddenly, last year the whiners got MUSD to install Port-A-Potties at every school gate on the Wawona Street practice fields. Now every recreational walker who circles the block gets three foul snootfuls each time they walk that leg.

This year - in fact, this very morning - the locust plague browbeat MUSD into putting a shit can at one of the two Fishback gates.

Wouldn't you know it? The gate right next to my driveway! This is the straw that broke this camel's back!

For four seasons I have put up with the block party hordes blocking my driveway, both to drop off and pick precious Johnny or sweet little Susie. Those who stay the entire 3-4 hours every weeknight for six months bust out the beach chairs and coolers and swill away. Instead of setting the example for Johnny and Susie by going potty before they leave home (somewhere right here in Manteca, no doubt), they bitch and moan about not having a pot to pee in while "helicoptering" around their cute little athletic star.

So here it is, in a view from my porch.

Ah... Uhh... now I gotta go Number 2 !

This A&A Crap Shack happens to be directly in the path of the prevailing NW winds (which any pilot, cyclist, or homeless person knows about, but not school facilities people?), so my house, which uses actual windows and doors for ventilation, will now be laden, day and night, with airborne molecules of potty chemicals and ripening human waste.

(As a matter of note, in the background of pic Number 1 is the Daniel Teicheira Memorial Stadium at Sierra High School, home of the Timberwolves.)

Nancy Teicheira happens to have been reelected as a school board trustee in 2010, and it is she who received my first telephone call regarding this obscenity. After consulting with the the MUSD Superintendent, Jason Messer, there were promises to move the shit can and to review the possibilty of relocating the gate away from my driveway. The callbacks next week will be encouraging, I hope. (After all, it was MUSD that got Manteca's police off their asses when my other neighbors were growing marijuana openly next to Sierra High.)

Precedent for not using this gate, with its attendant congestion and plastic outhouses, comes from MUSD actions on the southern side of the Fishback/Mason property two doors southward. That gate, which did not even generate the same level of traffic congestion, was welded shut a couple years ago. I wonder what level of complaint was made to have that effect?

Pop Warner Footballers - mentioned in my very first post and again a little later.

- more later -

.

Gone... But Not Far Enough, Obviously

2011-06-27T15:35:00.000-07:00

The new "familia" gathering place is mighty impressive. The "po' lil ol' me" masquerade, so effectively abused for so many years by Lyin' Lynda, was stripped away last summer with the whole house makeover thing. (There's no way in hell that project was funded by a dying catering business, with three old bitches and only one broken down MFPU.)

The familia to the rescue! This last Easter, Bubba, Jr. Raider, was substituted in for the Senior Raiderettes, and right away the fly-away tent gazebo favored by the cheap BDG's was upgraded to a more substantial outdoor structure; the rickety picnic table favored by the smoking, hacking, coughing, cancerous, card-playing BDG's gave way to some stylish outdoor furniture, including a brazier; the sign proclaiming the existence of an outdoor "man cave" (on the outside of the fence protecting the marijuana sheds) is mere cover to the true purpose within.

Lyin' Lynda will not - cannot - stay away. When she traded properties with relatives, the only explicit instruction was to protect the marijuana cash crop production facilities. No matter how many familia members come to visit, everything is still a drug front. Indeed, the more "customers" who visit the place bolster the case for this being an illegal weed cooperative.

Yep, that's Lyin' Lynda's Big-Ass, Black
Pickup Truck ... spotted again this morning!

This must be where she parks it now!

Hell On Wheels: A BDG Smoke-Off?

2011-06-10T17:23:00.000-07:00

I know the poster says "Cook Off," but if you see the truck below on the streets of Lodi next weekend, you could score some "Really Good Shit." Hmmm... homegrown, hand processed, right here in Lard-Town (Manteca). Be sure to ask for their premium Sierra High (c) weed.

Costco v. Bass Pro

2011-06-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

Costco and LOREX - Proud suppliers of ~~replacement~~ surveillance cameras

Perfect for the whole family of paranoid marijuana growers

illegally operating as a cooperative at 810 Fishback Street, Manteca,

in a residential neighborhood

and, more importantly, just over the fence from Sierra High School -

a screw-up fully known and protected by the Manteca Police Department,

who haven't a clue about the state and local laws on weed cooperatives,

whose investigation skills are ??? (they look great on paper, anyway!)

and where there is no departmental inclination to require the

removal of the illegal grow, run by and for the benefit of non-residents.

(Probably don't want to lose their ~~official~~ own personal supplier.)

Don't worry, parents of teenagers, your elected school board, the school administrators, and an MPD School Resource Officer will keep your children safe.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Bass Pro and GAMO - Proud suppliers of vermin eradication supplies

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Disclaimer:

No consideration or emoluments* of any sort were provided to the writer by the above-named companies, municipal agencies, or illegal pot growers.

* [from Latin ēmolumentum benefit; originally, fee paid to a miller, from ēmolere, from molere to grind]

.

Sierra High (c) Marijuana Growing Company

2011-05-23T16:08:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a busy day at the fortified compound and marijuana growing operation at 810 Fishback Street in Manteca.

After the Barefoot Dirty Girls vacated the premises last Easter, the place has finally achieved the level of quiet it should have had for the last four years - actually, the last twenty-three years.

However, the announced visit of the CEO of the Sierra High (c) Marijuana Growing Company, Lyin' Lynda Allen, and her entourage of Cork-Screwed lovers caused so great anticipation that on Friday the sentinel sharecropper, Bubba Lite, busted out the yard tools and trimmed and mowed and blew. He also cleaned up the construction mess from the constant building taking place inside the house, the Smokehouse, and the marijuana sheds. (He usually starts with the saw about 7:00-8:00 p.m. and hammering continues well into the night.)

Saturday's family reunion & pot harvest celebration was a monumental affair. Cars and trucks and people overran the property all afternoon like a plague of locusts, coming and going, and hootin' and hollerin', interspersed with periods of fortifyin' smoking. Because they were celebrating, third world style, the payday of their psychoactive cash crop, the only thing missing was the shooting of guns into the air. (Hey, blockhead, watch where you're aiming that thing!)

Lyin' Lynda arrived in Resectioned Red's black SUV and held court as only she can, hollering and ordering everyone around, telling lies, emitting that high, cackling death rattle that passes for her laugh.

Cork-Screwed brought her own process server evasion car. She strode around the barren compound as if she owned the place. Her part, no doubt, was to oversee the production operations: weed growing, harvesting, and processing standards, young Bubba's employee performance standards (free rent, no work, except growing and protecting our weed, and watching our big screen TV), and to enforce the strict standards for collection and disposal of dog shit.

It was a fine day for the pickup truck rally events, and it was capped off with a magic show worthy of a Las Vegas illusionist. At 5:46 p.m., Cork-Screwed's peripatetic Wilderness Advantage travel trailer disappeared! In its place appeared a trailered pair of personal watercraft (which have before been seen on the propertry. Free rent at Auntie Lyn's!) Wherever the travel trailer went, it will probably fit snugly behind Allen's and Brassey's single-wide - effectively making it a double-wide - thus allowing Green finally (!) to sleep in a bed by herself. (Yeah, poor sod, it's been a whole month since the Exodus... a long time to be cooped up with those other two.)

- - - - - -

The HUGE open issue in this BDG property swap charade is: Under both state and city law, marijuana grown on private property is for resident(s) use only, and only under physician recommendation. When it is grown for or given to non-residents, the operation is deemed a cooperative - and cooperatives are illegal within one thousand feet of a school. In this case, the BDG's cooperative adjoins Sierra High School. (See here for last year's prediction.)

Knock! Knock! MPD, where are you?

As I understand it, MPD and San Joaquin County DA's office don't give a shit about dope and dopers. So far, since 1996, they have failed to put in place any procedures to track registrants, caregivers, so-called legal cooperatives, and those illegal things called cannibis clubs.

Must we again notify Manteca Unified School District of an illegal drug house operating on their border, contrary to Education Code and other sections of Health and Safety Code?

Perhaps the DEA might like to hear about this breaking of federal drug law - AND - California's own skanky drug legalization law, the Compaaaasionate Use Act?

.

BDG Easter: Death, Resurrection, and a New High

2011-04-26T10:05:00.000-07:00

The Barefoot Dirty Girls are stripped to their essence...
Marijuana

SLOW DEATH

Moving truck - January 17th post

Pickups and trailers used - January 24th post

History of dismantling since July 2010 - March 30th post

Packing clothes into the Sebring - April 6th post

Last week's convoys (yes, plural)

Bed frames, mattresses, dressers, and more

Even the day before Easter was used, as the original marijuana tent was moved to the southeast corner of the property. But, as you can see, the property is still encumbered with "left-overs."

(1) Travel trailer, (2) Catering truck, (3) Vending truck,
(4) Shipping container, (5) Marijuana tent,
(6) Walk-in freezer, (7) Shanty shed

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

ONE DAY OF PEACE - Easter Sunday

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

WEEDS SPRING ETERNAL

Items of note in the pictures above are these:

The new cinder block retaining wall stretching the length of the southern property line (two weeks before Easter.)
The removal of the old satellite dish and yard light, and new replacement yard light (the week before Easter.)
The fence around the marijuana sheds painted white on Good Friday (whitewashing the sepulchre.)
The still operational surveillance cameras (one is just below the new yard light.)

Other items of note, not pictured:

Two black yard dogs still on property
Daily visitors to feed the dogs, check the marijuana plants, and make the place look occupied.
Temporary residents hauled in bags of stuff and a sleeping pad just after midnight Monday morning.

My analysis of the situation goes like this:

The BDG's did way too much cleanup, and even improvements, for this to be preparation for a mortgage default.
The BDG's did way too little cleanup for this to be preparation for a property short sale. All the "left-over" equipment, noted above, indicates that.
The BDG's housesitter/handyman was part of the moving and painting crew and now serves as transition staff to a long term marijuana "sharecropper."
The catering business was merely a distribution "front."
There is no evidence the BDG's are relinquishing ownership or control of the property and their new, state-of-the-art pot farm. This was merely a strategic withdrawal, upon which to make more evasive claims.

The BDG's actions, and rationally deduced intentions, predict another illegal business on the property, as I theorized in October of last year. Their evasive actions and their long, documented history of manipulation and deceit with the catering truck business - especially their last few years with only one truck - supports and sharpens that prediction.

Building and rebuilding continues apace, with another of Lyin' Lynda's "little boxes" being replaced. Back on April 4, there appeared another old woman on the property, "who greeted Lyin' Auntie Lyn with a hug and Roly-Poly Red with a handshake;" Cork-Screwed got a mere nod. This other woman walks very much like Lyin' Lynda (rounded shoulders, stooped back, arms swinging in gorilla-like fashion), but her hair was thicker and darker (unlike L/L's wispy, dish-rag gray mop.) She appeared again on Monday to supervise Bubba or Bubba Lite (can't tell because they both wear prison britches) and a young woman in taking down the skeleton of the old tent gazebo and trying to set posts for a new, beefier gazebo.

Lyin' Lynda's surveillance cameras - those watching my property instead of hers - are still up, and I'm sure that the new family caretakers are under strict orders to leave them in place.

We'll see how long it takes before Bubba Lite gets tired of paying for Lyin' Lynda's sins...

Is this conniving bitch really worth giving up your dignity?

Is her expanding marijuana business something you really want to get swept up in?

.

The Self-Thinning Applets Don't Fall Far From The Tree

2011-04-22T17:15:00.000-07:00

The Barefoot Dirty Girls' [Unrelated] Family Tree

(source)

For millenia, mankind has observed and practiced various techniques on fruit trees. Some trees are self-fruitful; some require pollintors. Some are self-thinning; some must have the immature fruit thinned by hand. "Fruit drop" is a term describing self-thinning of apple trees, which must be supplemented by hand-thinning to increase the current crop and protect the tree into the future.

Between Newton's articulation of physical laws (specifically gravity), and Darwin's postulations of natural laws (individual mutation and selection within species), and Mendel's genetics experiments on plants (dominant and regressive characteristics), at that confluence stand the Barefoot Dirty Girls, those homo sapiens somehow related to them, and a kaleidoscopic posse of redneck loafers, squatters and hangers-on.

Yesterday one such human genome field experiment, with at least three young buds, was on hand to ferry

Mattresses, bedposts,
Boxes and bags,
And assorted more flotsam
For the familial hags
{sorry... I accidentally slipped into verse again...}

from the house to the cars and trailers.

[Note: We have visited Lyin' Lynda's and Rotund Red's family tree before, where it shows conclusively that none of their DNA has been successfully transmitted.]

Anyway, one of the unflowered progeny practiced the Waggle Dance on several occasions, exuberantly jumping about, posing and ~~dis~~ playing for the camera. It was a touching, heartwarming scene to witness the transmission of colony culture from the Secondary Queen Bee, Great-Auntie Red, to an impressionable squirt two generations removed. Even more significant is that one of those performances was done with an audience composed of sire and siblings, and under the smiling approbation of Primary Queen Bee, Great-Auntie Lyin' Lynda. (Pray never to see such a smile - "We show you our faces, You're gone without traces..." from this post.)

Another way of looking at this episode is just as valid; that the Barefoot Dirty Girls, themselves, never matured past prepubesence. Mature adult judgment appears missing in the training, or condoning of misbehavior, of their juvenile charges and their parents.

Or, the BDG's are manifesting regressive personality characteristics as they rapidly age, bloat, and succumb to psychotropic drug use.

This topic of disrespectful, anti-social parents training up their children in the ways of disrespectful, anti-social behavior is covered in Chapter 3 of the book, Neighbors From Hell, by Bob Borzotta. In that chapter, Kids - From Bad Parents Come Bad Neighbors, the author cites examples and discusses the ~~nurturing~~ incubation of tomorrow's ~~cockroaches~~ adult neighbors from hell.

Of course, there is nothing new under the sun, and the world has suffered fools continually since the dawn of time. And children, being mimicking little monkeys, if they soak up their ~~worldview~~ neighborview from loutish parents, aunties, family, and assorted village idiots, it is no great wonder they turn out twisted or damaged.

Harry Chapin put it this way in his recording, "Cat's in the Cradle:"

And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you dad,
You know I'm gonna be like you."

Moses put it a different way when he wrote:

"The Lord is longsuffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation." Numbers 14:18

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Disney puts it this way...

Just ducky...

The [image] presented here is [] from the freely available Inducks database at inducks.org

Rust-Demolished Trash Truck Heads For Cemetary

2011-04-21T16:04:00.000-07:00

Flatbed Hearse

Moment of Silence

(Many, long Moments of Silence)

(Reflecting on the skunk that died under the house...)

(This is a good omen.)

- - - - - - - - - - - -

O.K., mourning over; the ghost is gone.

Next!

Now that the Camouflage-colored shell of a truck has been towed away,

the time is ripe to haul away the Red, Yellow, and Green trash.

Life's Certainties: Taxes, Karma, and Death

2011-04-14T17:37:00.000-07:00

(source)

Karma has returned to Lyin' Lynda the sobriquet,

"Tax Cheat"

- - - - - - - - - -

A few days ago, my attorney and I were kicking some things around and he asked about Lyin' Lynda's latest subterfuge, her claim to be moving. Here is the lopsided scale:

FOR Moving

Lyin' Lynda's word (worthless)
A few away trips with household junk and yard jetsam

AGAINST Moving

Absence of FOR SALE signs or FOR RENT signs
No realtors or prospects viewing the house
Remaining business trucks, containers, equipment, and sheds litter the property
Inoperative cars and trucks still on property
Marijuana sheds fully tended in day and night operation
New screening fence for marijuana sheds
Cork-Screwed's travel trailer still in place
Earthwork being done on their south property line

Then my attorney asked about any filed Notices of Default on mortgage payments. None... yet. But that question brought up the latest public filing against our addicted heroine, a Notice of State Tax Lien, on November 19, 2010.

You see, Lyin' Lynda didn't pay her state income taxes for 2004, and a tax lien of over $9,700 has been attached "to all property and rights to such property now owned or later acquired by the taxpayer." (Penalty, interest and collection fees account for $4,319 of the total - and interest is still accruing.) Such things go through several phases of attempted collection before reaching the level of a tax lien. Technically, it still hasn't been collected - the people of the State of California are still carrying Lyin' Lynda's dead ass.

(karma credits)

So, just what did this "Maven of Mucking About" do with all that money back in 2004 and 2005? Hmmm... let's go back on her timeline to see what was going on.

Ah, there it is. 2004 was a year of consolidating, wherein Ms. "Screw-the-Grid" Businesswoman attempted to become self-sufficient (To hell with the world!), retreating into her own little survivalist compound. She paid one of those fly-by-night "green" contractors (Power Independence Electric, long since out of business) tens of thousands of dollars to install seven huge solar panels, and related paraphernalia, on her property - after pulling a City of Manteca permit in the name of her dead neighbor.

And she didn't pay her taxes for that year.

"Well," you ask, "why didn't she pay those taxes in 2005, or 2006, or 2007?"

What?! You're asking me to think like Lyin' Lynda??? No can do. Besides, according to her ~~freeloading~~ freebie Farmers Insurance lawyer in the civil suit currently lodged against her, there is "no way of single-handedly divining Ms. Allen's state of mind and determining what was 'intentional' and what was not. Making a unilateral judgment as to another person's state of mind... [particularly unsupported]... is offensive and wholly irresponsible." (What did he say? It takes two people to tell if Lynda's Lyin'?) There you have it, L/L's primary defense, entitled, "I can do whatever the hell I want to and there's not an F'n thing you can do or say about it!"

"State of mind" presupposes a mind capable of having a state. We can safely ignore that improbability.
What Lyin' Lynda says, whether offensive or defensive (never friendly), can likewise be weighted with the appropriate discount factor - ie., multiply by zero.
That leaves only the actions of this benighted* woman from which to judge.

Don't even think to tell me these are unwarranted or unsupported allegations; this entire blog is dedicated to documenting the arrogant insanities of this hellcat - the yawning chasms separating her offensive words and her damnable actions. No reasonable person needs to judge her "state of [nonexistent] mind;" merely observe what issues from her mouth, her ass, or whatever other body cavity she elects to void at the moment.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fast forward to 2007 - with Lyin' Lynda's 2004 back taxes and penalties still unpaid. The real estate market was still hot as the year opened. But, because her slop trough business... uhn, TLC Catering... was not properly feeding the Three ~~Lying~~ ~~Cxxxs~~ ... Little ~~Cxxxs~~ ... Little Pigs, she decided to refinance 810 Fishback Street to pay for the solar power system, the threesome's living and loving expenses, and for her hobby business. With her impeccable timing, in April she wrung $250,000 - every nickel of paper equity - out of Dog-Shit Paradise. Of course, that was just before the Sword of Damocles** fell on her (and everyone else in an over-leveraged, underwater mortgage) when the real estate bubble burst.

But did she pay her tax obligation with some of her "free money"? Hell no! Not this Angel of Meat Wagons. Instead she tried to continue illegally running her business from her residential property, and continuing a hellish nuisance at the same time.

In 2009, Lyin' Lynda and Regurgitated Red were sued for illegal land use (a public matter) and noise nuisance - by yours truly. They decided to go out of business instead of moving it to a properly zoned place.

But did she pay her 2004 taxes? No.

In an incredibly clever move - more like, unfathomable - this dishrag diva went on a building spree in 2010. She and the other Barefoot Dirty Girls sunk whatever money they could beg, borrow, steal, ~~or kill for~~ into a complete house makeover to die for on a completely "underwater" property. From the moment I saw Pre-Cancerous Red daubing paint on the ends of framing 2x4's before they were encased within siding, I knew the BDG's were "digging in" for drug-based retirement.

These bimbos and their buddy boosters decided to "come out of the [pot] closet" after all this time, too. New Years Eve (2009-10) was an eventful celebration, with pot-smoking hangers-on caterwauling and railing against my taking pictures of the BDG's constantly yapping chihuahuas at midnight. During the Springtime, all three weed-women armed themselves with "420 cards" (medical marijuana doctor notes) and ~~lost~~ sowed some of their weed seeds onto my property while developing an unsecured outdoor grow for themselves. That situation, of course, required heavy pressure on the Manteca Police Department - via the Manteca Unified School District and Sierra High School - to bring that illegal operation into compliance with city code with more construction, the BDG's MJ Sheds.

City of Manteca Narco(leptic) Squad

To recap, in 2010, Lyin' Lynda:

Stopped operating her catering truck business
Cleaned up bits of her illegal business plant
Put up tall fences, overtopped by surveillance cameras
Purchased and set up a "marijuana tent"
Planted marijuana openly
Rebuilt the main house
Built (and now operate) two marijuana sheds

But... did she pay her 2004 taxes? No.

So now, six years after the tax year ended - and 3 ½ years after the re-fi - a tax lien for 2004 income taxes was filed by the State of California against Lyin' Lynda Allen.

What is her "state of mind" now? (Ooops... nonexistent.)
What does she say? (Ooops... words times zero; sound and fury, signifying nothing.)
What does she do? She has made it appear she is moving, but she is not leaving...

... until she dies.

The thought occurred, "What about income taxes for 2005 through 2010, state and federal? Are those in the tax lien pipeline also? It's happened before; could happen again. And what about that Board of Equalization sales tax account from the dead roach coaches? {The BDG's are probably still buying at Costco and elsewhere on the expired number.}"

Besides watching for a Notice of Default and more Tax Liens, other things to watch for are a fraudulent conveyance filing, or an informal property swap; and under all scenarios, whether the marijuana sheds are being operated by or for the benefit of non-residents of the property. The Manteca Unified School District would be very interested to hear about that last item.

- - - - - - - - - -

Ladies and gentlemen, charge your glass and be upstanding. Three cheers to life!

Cheers to Taxes!
.....(L/L echoes... Cheat Taxes!)

Cheers to Karma!
.....(L/L echoes... Cheat Karma!)

Cheers to Death!
.....(L/L echoes... Cheat Death! Smoke on!)

- - - - - - - - - -

Love your Enemies, for they tell you your Faults.

(Benjamin Franklin)

- - - - - - - - -
* benighted (adj) 1. Overtaken by night or darkness. 2. Being in a state of moral or intellectual darkness; unenlightened. [This word was invented just for Lyin' Lynda!]

** Sword of Damocles. Generally, it is used to denote the sense of foreboding engendered by a precarious situation, especially one in which the onset of tragedy is restrained only by a delicate trigger or chance.

BDG's Latest (Family) Business Expansion

2011-04-11T16:39:00.000-07:00

aka, Green and Yellow and the Red Balloon

This is a follow up to the post of October 20, 2010, where I surmised the beginning of a new illegal business by Lyin' Lynda, Resectioned Red, and Cork-Screwed.)

The Barefoot Dirty Girls were busy this weekend - but not moving. As I predicted, the scenes of cars, trucks, and trailers convoys moving more shit off the property were just stage props for Lyin' Lynda to practice her fevered incantations and other office party games, like that old chestnut, "Gossip." (Her entire life has been a lie!)

The Kid and his pa came over several days to help Lyin' Auntie Lyn, and "Auntie" Red, and "Auntie" Cork-Screwed with the façade of activity. Bubba and Bubba Lite (you know, twice the size! half the calories!) schlepped a bunch of boxes to truck and trailer, ferried the junk elsewhere, and puttered around the yard, taking orders from the howlet-faced general like good little soldiers.

But man's and boy's real purpose was to build a wooden screen fence to block off the view of the marijuana sheds from the west, north, and east. (Aww, Fudge! Those just happen to be the sides viewable from the street, from my property, and from Sierra High School.) This will greatly ease the BDGs' smuggling of people and product in and out of the MJ Sheds, allowing them to train, grow, and distribute with less chance of detection.

That is, of course, unless they move... and have to turn the operation over to someone else. Who else could these ~~baked~~ dopey women trust to follow their orders better than blood kin? The scenario looks like this:

Take up long term residence elsewhere (not yet done)
Flood their property with guard dogs and surveillance (already done)
Set up the most kick-ass grow operation possible (pretty close)
Move a ~~fall guy~~ scion into place, trained in herbiculture and harvesting (but whom?)
Distribution - pretend they are Celia Hodes, "Weeds" character (done, done, and over done)
Hone their NsFH skills (baked to perfection)
Smoke happy grass happily ever after, or until their pea-brains are toasted (almost there!)

Sounds heavenly, huh?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nuts shaken from the TLC family tree

The Keekin' Glass

How daur ye ca' me 'Howlet-face',
Ye blear-e'ed, wither'd spectre?
Ye only spied the keekin' glass,
An' there ye saw your picture.

(Robert Burns)

.

At Last! A Glimpse of the Promised Land!

2011-04-08T16:08:00.000-07:00

NeighborsFromHell.com

main website for support, comraderie, counsel, etc.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Borzotta will have no problem with me mentioning his book and his website again.

The reason I bring the subject up, and show a screen print of the opening page of his site, is for the longer testimonial written in red that begins, "Wow, Bob!"... and ends with, "This book will provide the spark to rekindle the soul extinguished by evil neighbors."

Bob reminded me a while back that one of the examples in his book is called a "Dirty Girl." That was after he noticed my naming Lyin' Lynda, Ravaged Red, Cork-screwed, collectively as the Barefoot Dirty Girls (so named by one of their customers many years ago.)

To not be reprobate, I must express a big "Thank You" to Bob Borzotta for being one of the voices of reason on which I rested my sanity during the last couple years. At long last, I catch a glimpse of the Promised Land of peace and quiet not too far off.

Incidentally, I wrote that testimonial for him. Anyone care to guess who are the evil neighbors I refer to?

So long, Barefoot Dirty Girls. Good riddance. Vaya con Diablo.

May your next neighbors have extra helpings of God-given strength. {They're going to need it.}

.

BDG-TV Horror Movie: 8,545 Days of Terrorizing Neighbors

2011-04-06T16:30:00.000-07:00

8,545 days (23.4 yrs) from their hostile takeover
Nov. 13, 1987, BDG convoy flees from Manteca.
Vaya con Diablo!

(source of great pic)

Stone cute dogs go, too!

Yesterday, all three residents packed the Sebring to the gills with clothes. I'm sure the last things L/L and Beefy Brassey squeezed into that last bit of room were their girdles, hair curlers, and wedding dresses... {yuk, yuk...}

Then cars and trucks were shuffled around the yard just like a sliding numbers puzzle: 1) the Tahoe out of the tent; 2) Sebring into the tent; 3) Big-Ass Black Pickup backed into walkway for loading. {Tiring day; time to toke heavy before bed.}

After the usual pissing away of the morning hours, they spent a little time today packing crap in the B-A. B. P/U.

Now for the heavy stuff...

Can't wait for the moving trucks!

Take it all, but remember there's [at least one] light
on the tree that won't light on one side.

I'll Not Miss Them When They Go...

2011-04-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

April 1, 2011

"~~Oprah~~ Lyin' Lynda has been consistently listed with Jesus, Elvis and Cleopatra (really!)
as among those who have had the mightiest impact on the world. In general,
you have to be really, truly dead to have such stuff said about you."
(source)

(Eagerly anticipating her blessed entry into eternity,
I've already written the Requiem and Eulogy.)

- - - - -

The endlessly entertaining antics of the Barefoot Dirty Girls go on... uh,...endlessly. The libretto for this ~~soap~~ opera has ~~endless~~ ~~pointless~~ hopelessly convoluted plot twists that reveal the true motives of the characters.

We already know most of the narcissistic egotisms of Lyin' Lynda, but now the paparazzi aspect of her harrassing stalker personality has emerged full blown. No less than three times in the 56 minutes starting at 6:54 a.m., she and her ganja babe, Roll 'Em Red, "paced" between their house and mine. Showing some sort of Amazon tribal solidarity, L/L and R/R were wearing a uniform, their patented two-faced reversible sports jackets - a highly appropriate choice for them. (As a small credit to their artless tastes, however, they at least had the jackets turned to the same "face;" it just wouldn't be right otherwise.) At last, L/L had a chance to put her camera to use, attempting to take pictures of me in my side yard not viewable on her surveillance cameras. The Death's Head grin on her tightly lined, in-danger-of-splitting, leathery face confirmed the diagnosis.

- - - - -

Cork-Screwed

Speaking of ~~sweet~~ ganja babes*... The Kid in the boxy little car came over again, third day in a row. (Damn! got that song, "Little Boxes," running in my head again.) This time he brought another old woman with him, who greeted Auntie Lyn with a hug and R/R with a handshake. Cork-Screwed, who had been ~~bouncing around~~ working in the back in only her training bra (again), came streaking up to the half-together gazebo to retrieve her black T-shirt (who wears black on an eighty-plus degree day?), only to find the Kid and the whole fam-damily as witnesses to her exhibitionism; she rated only a nod. ("Note to self," thought the visitor, "I'm not leaving my Kid around this s--t.") (2nd note: All day long that shirt was on and off more often than Lyin' Lynda's mouth was flapping.)

What C.J. thinks she looks like...

- - - - -

Rotunda Red

Speaking of ~~sweet~~ ganja babes - and beyond - Roll 'Em Red is not built for... shall we call it "naturism"?... but a different vice. As the ~~deadly dull visit~~ love fest wore on, Auntie Red and the Kid strolled out to the MJ Sheds for a little one-on-one education. {wink! wink!} Who better to bring up the next generation than the ~~brightest of~~ apothecary to the BDG's, the one with a little book-learnin' and tons of hash-slingin' and ~~vast experience~~ a season in DIY herbiculture and drug-craft, all legal-like? (Go online, pay your $125 and get a "420 card," which bestows instant brilliance on the recipient, and then proceed with your descent from Dope... to Dopier... to Dopiest... to BDG.) Good luck with that education.

As a witness to the BDG's long history of evasion, pretense, and prevaricating, that last little episode confirms that, even being watched, these three will skirt and break this sketchiest of California's drug laws, the Compaaaasionate Use Act of 1996.

To wrap up the visit, the BDG's escorted Mama Bear and her cub to the East End to interest them in one of their innumerable vehicles. Odd choice, though, the Trash Truck couldn't ~~get it up~~ start up. Nope, Cork-Screwed had to go wheel out her ~~sex toys~~ battery charger and juice the old girl up. Not to worry, Kid, it's for the best. That beater's owners myopically missed the State of California's amnesty period for gross polluters. That truck should be turned in whenever it goes off the property.

Trash Truck

Besides, your Auntie Lyn, the Angel of Trash, still wants to be buried in her beloved Trash Truck... or in the relic MFPU. She doesn't know which, won't decide, can't figure out how to decide... you get the picture.

While ~~hanging out~~ working earlier in the day out in the East End, a few long items were loaded into Lyin' Lynda's Big-Ass Black Pickup, which Cork-Screwed hauled away, returning unladen 32 minutes later.

A semi-official source (albeit unreliable, even adversarial) revealed that all the BDG's frenetic purging activity (including Cork-Screwed's obsession with weed-killer?) is prelude to them moving. Let me tell you, that was a real knee-slapper! Someone was lying - again! still! (Not the Oregon story again!) I didn't know whether to laugh or cry - or, that is, guffaw in derision or shed tears of joy. My bet is on this being a desperate repetition of the same, lame deflective lie that Lyin' Lynda shoots off whenever the heat gets too hot. Like a dog returns to her vomit, and a sow to her wallow, Lyin' Lynda always returns to her cesspool of lies and deceptions.**

The crying shame is that certain people (her targets) are paralyzed by her verbal flash-bang and actually believe her, or at least doubt themselves, long enough for her to shift the focus and assiduously shovel blame onto someone else with more out-and-out lies, semi-plausible half-truths, oily innuendos, and non-stop yammering. She lies and self-justifies because she knows she evaporates if she's quiet, yet not realizing she is already devoid of any redeeming social value (one definition of pornography, Miller v. California, 1973.) Those who believe her or gullibly repeat her mutterings are patsies, deceived accessories - part of the problem, not the solution.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
* Michael Franti & Spearhead - Ganja Babe

I wanna make it slow

Sensemille

I wanna make it slow

Make me feel ya

Heavy medicine

ya see my eyes are feeling red again

I'm bringin' light

like Thomas funky Edison

been in the desert for forty seven days

Purple Haze

the poison that I tasted never changed

turn up the woofers so I can feel the beat

vibrate my belly like a bomb in harmony

summer heat

my back is sticking to me to the seat

bare feet

tank top and shorts is all ya need

summer breeze

I'm feelin' kinda fine

I'm rollin with my shorty all the time

wind and grind lovely shake your behind

cinnamon skin be bringing sin to my mind

but whether or not the weather's hot

or the weather's cold

I'm wrapping her like a blanket with my whole soul

so that she can feel me

like Coca Cola I'm the woo-o-oh oh the sweet thing

my girl lollipop she growing mad crops

she rollin' herbs everyday

at about 4 o' clock

tick tock

strike the hammer while the Iron's hot

ooh girl watcha got cooking in the pot

see Mary Mary quite contrary

how does your garden grow?

Hydrophonic ultra supersonic

or does it grow naturally slow?

(Chorus)

Ganja babe my sweet ganja babe

I love tha way ya love me and the way ya misbehavin'

ganja babe my sweet ganja babe

come wake body-ody take my mind away

Everybody get down and do the boogaloo

just like the cover of I want you

yoo hooo look watcha gonna do

watcha gonna do when the rent comes due

round up the posse and call up the crew

5 bucks at the door and ya bring ya own booze

call ya neighbor 'cause they can come too

be sure and bring ya records 'cause I only got a few

so baa baa black sheep have you any wool

yes sir, yes sir a nickle bagful

one for my partner one for my crew

some for my ganja baby she needs 2

cuz just like me they want to be... high!

(Chorus)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
** 2 Peter 2:22 The dog is turned to her own vomit again, and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire.

.

How Foolish Can April Fools Be?

2011-04-04T16:32:00.000-07:00

April 1, 2011

Search me...

(click pic to search)

.
.

Lyin' Lynda's Not-So-Private Orgasm

2011-03-31T17:14:00.000-07:00

I arrived home yesterday just in time to hear ~~Lyin' Lynda Allen~~ Auntie Lyn hollering her head off most obscenely, while her big, metal middle finger waved and twisted in the air,

"To the left... aaaah... to the left some more... don't jiggle it like that... Oh, yeah!... Right there! uhhh... perfect... Aaaah... Perfect... PERFECT!"

She must have had some damn good stimulation during the day, and the foreplay drove her to the brink as her surveillance camera came to settle... directly on me in my back yard.

Yes, indeed, this demonic parasite got off the only way she can - by forcing her evil spore into someone else's life (mine, in this case.) Just like a blood-swollen, pin-headed tick, she sucks her life from the host, then returns the favor by injecting her virulent toxins. To Lyin' Lynda, this is getting her rocks off, her true release; she only fucks men in the head. (Believe me! we are grateful for that small favor!)

What got her so dripping with excitement, you ask? Covering the day's news provides the answer.

The unsupervised Supreme Generalissimo of the People's Sovereign and Independent Republic of 810 Fishback Street [screw Manteca!] was in full and total control of events. Excitement was palpable in the air. Cork-Screwed scooped up dog shit expeditiously. Roly-Poly Red waddled - as expeditiously as her perpetual internal fog allows - to the marijuana grow sheds to cuddle and croon to "her baby ganga" (fickle bitch, this must be how the six dogs got to be Lyin' Lynda's "babies.") The Generalissimo cracks the whip, they step lively... or at least livlier than Roly-Poly usually steps. No time to waste.

Disappearing bottoms and house dogs

Traffic intensifies. Errands were run quickly. Several cars and a blue pickup go, come, go. We're on a deadline. ("We mus'n't be late for a most important date at the Queen's palace," said the White Rabbit.) Cork-Screwed took off in her car, with a doggie or two. Re-Upholstered Red left in the SUV with another doggie - and just by the skin of her smoke stained teeth.

At 10:09, the precise moment the overloaded ass-end of Rotund Red's truck cleared the driveway, a white pickup entered the driveway and parks, while another white pickup parked out front. The yard dogs were shut up in the Smokehouse.

Third set of "official" Manteca visitors in one week (see also Mar 22nd & 23rd)

10:16 to 10:25 Visitors get the back yard tour. This visit was by appointment, but it gave the mistress of ceremonies her third major opportunity in seven days to regurgitate and wallow in her shop-worn story:
What a clean place they keep, (whited sepulchre; clean outside, dead men's bones inside)
What good service they gave to the people of Tracy, (the trucks were a perfect "distribution" cover)
They were a legally grandfathered business before they quit, (repetition wins? Absolutely disproved)
What good neighbors they are to everyone in the neighborhood, (emo; the neighbors I've talked to say not)
The horrible lies the horrible neighbor tells about them, (emo; I only write observations, truth, or speculations with the highest probability)
See? We have only a couple dogs, (keep Lyin', Lynda; they already have a picture of each one)
We're just poor, helpless, old women who need protection, after all, (emo)
Woe is me... (more emo)

At 10:30 the inspectors leave.

Seventeen minutes later, 10:47, Cork-Screwed and her canine wards return to the compound. Of course, she had to drive up the wrong side of the road past my driveway gate to see if my truck was home.

One camera down (and back up)

Exhibitionist Cork-Screwed doffed her top, sporting her pot belly and training bra, for most of the afternoon, including the spraying of the property by the pest control guy.

...Until a kid in short pants drove up. As soon as his arrival was announced, at 4:20, the shirt went back on. That tells me this kid was a relative, probably the nephew from Modesto, and Auntie Lyn's lover's boobs were a "bad" thing. (This is the ONLY time they have displayed ANY discretion.) They got the kid to do all sorts of shit for them, and even gave him a tour of their holiest shrines, the marijuana sheds.

But the real reason he was there was to swap out surveillance cameras for them. He went up a ladder to remove one camera on the Smokehouse, which was watching their own yard. Then he replaced the camera on the pole, which the BDG's use to watch me and my yard.

He was in the act of maneuvering and twisting the pole, according to Auntie Lyn's screeching directions, to get the best view of her masturbatory fantasy.

Disgusting! Despicable woman! Using her nephew in such a fashion to achieve her own orgasm!

{I need a shower...}
.

The Continually Disgorging Cornucopia of Detritus

2011-03-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

C.D.C.D. BDG
(say it fast five times...)

I am flabbergasted! - near to speechless!! - at just how much ~~useless trash~~ treasured trophies three Barefoot Dirty Girls, six dogs, ~~a chicken~~, and a cat can cram into such a small space. The shanty shed, on its illegal concrete pad, continues to disgorge load after load from the inexhaustible heap of rubbish stored inside it and the Bally walk-in freezer.

Bally freezer, left foreground; shanty shed, right foreground.
Derisively known as Icemaker Corral, home of the ice-chewing dog.
(Pic posted November 12, 2008)

This new-found Spring cleaning fetish is completely out of character for Lyin' Lynda, Re-Upholstered Red, and Cork-Screwed Green. One wonders if, maybe, there's a code enforcement reason behind it? Perhaps a financial reason?...

{brain flash} Wait! Wait! It's a change of heart and they're finally getting ready to move to Oregon?!

Anyway, Cork-Screwed's flashing episode yesterday was, I'm unsure, an expression of... what?... anger, frustration, helplessness? self-loathing, perhaps?... on her own behalf and that of her ~~dominatrices~~ mistresses, Lyin' Lynda and Roly-Poly Red, who were party to the unveiling (assuredly, nothin' those two haven't seen before.) So audacious and incredible was the "in-your-face" presentation that I forgot to review the immediately preceding time frame for their mind-altering drug use.

Lest one thinks this is merely another example of BDG abberant behavior, keep in mind that Cork-Screwed was only mimicking Resectioned Red's own flash and waggle dance on the 16th of January.

- - - - - - - - - -

Red Letter Day -
September 24, 2010

The following posts document the river of trash that - sometimes flooding - slowly flows and eddies through Icemaker Corral:

July 2010 - Sliding number puzzle of trash

Mon, Sep 20, 2010 - yard sale begins

September 2010 - Large appliances removed (to the reconstructed back porch!)

Fri, Sep 24, 2010 - Icemaker removed

Sat, Jan 15 - Budget moving van

Fri-Sat, Jan 21-22 - Pickup and trailer, then another loaded pickup

- - - - - - - - - -

Yup, officer, tha's her, all right.
Hey, she could be a model
for geriatric Lipo-Zapp!

Tue, Mar 29 - Pickup load from shanty shed (with gratuitous flash.) Cork-Screwed first staged the detritus for Roly-Poly's inspection and Lyin' Lynda's veto, then they loaded it up and shuttled it off to somewhere else (flea market, maybe?), taking a loaded Playmate cooler along, and returning about seven hours later.

(Poor R/R had to stay home, shuffle dogs, do the laundry, nap, tend the marijuana grow, and toke her joints alone. So sad... so sad... just doesn't have the knobbles for heavy lifting anymore... 'nuther hit...)

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wed, Mar 30 - Breaking news.

F Another garbage triage going on this morning.

D Disappearing bottoms and house dogs (vanished before inspectors arrived for appointment.)

L Visitors get the tour (it seems everyone except plaintiff and attorney, as requested.)

K Mosquito breeding pond overturned (after four years.) {idiots!}

J One camera down (most likely only temporary.)

...
Details to follow. Keep your channel set here.
...
Don't touch that dial!

.

Cork-Screwed Beats Roly-Poly In Flashing Cameras

2011-03-29T16:55:00.000-07:00

Cork-Screwed Green flips and flops...
Yes? No? ... Yes? No?

New Big Brassey Boobs
"~~Save~~ Show Those Ta-Ta's"
Will the nightmare never end?

Speaking of nightmares, next thing ya' know, Lyin' Lynda's gonna put some skin in this game - something she's been feverishly dodging from the beginning.

Wha' skin'z he talkin' 'bout?

- - - - - - - - - - - -

See? Really weird things happen when the
Barefoot Dirty Girls and their "friends" get stoned.
That's some crazy shit they're growing and smoking!

Odd Traffic Patterns (Except For BDG's)

2011-03-28T17:49:00.000-07:00

Tuesday morning, March 22, 2011 - What's better than once? Twice!

The two junkyard dogs are ~~hidden away~~ shut up in the Smokehouse and the four house dogs are all kept outside for a couple hours when the Blue Car Boys come to visit.

10:31 - First visit by Blue Car
10:54 - 23 minutes, first visit ends, Blue Car departs

11:04 - Ten minutes later, Blue Car Boys return for a second visit
11:34-11:54 - 20-minute back yard tour, led personally and exclusively by Lyin' Lynda.
11:55 - 51 minutes, second visit ends, Blue Car departs

During the indoor portions of the visits, Cork Screwed and Roly-Poly Red waffled around out back, doing nothing but wasting time and steering clear. Their shuffling body movements were perfectly clear; standing, pacing, quick circuits of the MJ sheds, peeking in through the screened porch of the house to see if the visitors had gone yet.

We were told... no, uh, never mind.
We're looking for real women to probe.

(You know, most people say a camera puts ten extra pounds on its ~~victims~~ subjects, but with Roly-Poly it looks more like twenty or thirty. Marijuana munchies?)

The fact of the matter is, those two ~~xxxxlickers~~ bootlickers leave all the prevaricating and story-telling to Lyin' Lynda because:

#1) she is the Alpha Bitch, and
#2) since 1987 the Alpha Bitch has perfected her outrageous pattern of lies and deceptions regarding nonexistent grandfathered status, illegal TLC Catering business, unpermitted construction, excessive dogs, no garbage cans, "po' little me and po' us'ns," and - since 2007 - the "Mommy, he's pickin' on me!" refrain for every imagined ill that has befallen the Barefoot Dirty Girls since that Neighbor From Hell moved in next door, and
#3) they absolutely will NOT deprive their Alpha Bitch (the fangs! the big, brassey balls!) of the only way she can get her big brasseys off - and aimed at someone else!

Who's comin'? Who's goin'? Is it my turn yet?

Wednesday morning, March 23, 2011 - What's better than twice? Thrice!

A white pickup, with a number stenciled on the back, made a drive-by before staying for a visit. It arrived in front of the house at 09:54, one minute after one of the BDG's had returned home and rolled the gate closed. Detecting no intelligent life, it drove off a minute later.

It arrived again at 11:35, leaving again 23 minutes later at 11:58. (Contact made, Captain. Confirmed: No intelligent life here.)

The truck returned a third time a half-hour later, at 12:29, and stayed 34 minutes until 13:03. (Bridge to Gunnery: Lock on coordinates. Just nuke the place!)

At 13:17, the BDG's convened an ad hoc meeting out back and first order of business was to adjourn it to the Smokehouse for some massive hits of Sierra High © weed. (Bridge to Gunnery: Belay that last order. The broads are nuking themselves.)

Monday, March 28, 2011 - Driving while impaired... again.

Junkyard dogs in / house dogs out.
...Pick up dog shit.

......House dogs in / junkyard dogs out.

.........Move trash bin contents to trash truck.

............Shuffle dogs.

...............Run an hour-and-twenty errand.

..................Shuffle dogs.
.....................Tend the MJ plants.

........................Shuffle dogs.

...........................Wash out the MJ tubs.

..............................Shuffle dogs.

What a tiring morning! This work shit is so debilitating, I need a hit! Schlepping 'round and 'round this hellhole really works up an appetite for a huge dose of :

Sierra High © homegrown!

Stretch... stretch... knuckle pop, neck swivel, straighten the Corkscrew. Wait for L/L to wake up from her nap and R/R to come out of her fog.

11:00 o'clock break in the Smokehouse. "Last one in's a dirty yegg!" Junkyard dogs turned out of their quarters. "Close th' winda. Don' care if'n it smells like dog breath and cat piss, it's too cold AND it's letting the secondhand cloud out. Jus' wanna smoke!"

11:59. Wasted clowns burst from the Smokehouse. Hungry, thirsty, L/L downs a soda and tosses the can for someone else to pick up later. "Lunchtime. Gots the munchies bad. Pizza delivered again, or go get it ourselfs?"

12:15 One or more of the BDG's pile in a car, back out of the driveway, and drive off down the street. "Get outta my f'n way! Where you learn drivin'? I learnt 'n Pinole!"

- - - - - - - - - -

And all the potheads say, "Weed don't kill."

Yeah, right.

.

Rabbie Burns' "Rhyming Wrath" Bloodies Boneheads

2011-03-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

From fifteen, "When I first committed the sin of rhyme,"
to "Stringing blethers up in rhyme/ for fools to sing."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

On Politics, For Candidates

In politics if thou would'st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be;
Bear this in mind - be deaf and blind,
Let great folks hear and see.

(Poem, 1793)

In Manteca, that means acceptable candidates must hold membership in the Good Ol' Boys Club, 'cause those "great folks" run the city for their own benefit.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Burns was not fond of civil servants either. He particularly disliked a man called Thomas Goldie, a commissary of the sherriff-court in Dumfries and the President of a right wing political club called 'The Loyal Natives' whose political views were anathema to a democrat like Burns. So he wrote this quatrain about Thomas Goldie's lack of brains and the thickness of his skull!"

Lord, to account who does Thee call,
Or e'er dispute Thy pleasure?
Else why within so thick a wall
Enclose so poor a treasure?

(from "Burns the Improviser", by Robert H. Carnie)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

On a local political contest
(with a slight amendment to the intended)

What dost thou in that mansion fair?
Flit, [BDG], and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.

No Stewart art thou, [BDG],
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

Bright ran thy line, O [BDG],
Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
So ran the far-fam'd Roman way,
So ended in a mire.

Spare me thy vengeance, [BDG]!
In quiet let me live:
I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.

(Epigrams Against The Earl Of Galloway, 1793)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

On Wat

Sic a reptile was Wat,
Sic a miscreant slave,
That the vera' worms damn'd [her]
When laid in [her] grave;

"In [her] flesh there's a famine,"
A starved reptile cries,
"And [her] heart is rank poison!"
Another replies.

(Epitaph for Walter Riddell, 1794)

Forget Walter Riddell! I think "Wat" is Lyin' Lynda Sue Allen!

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Two Poems on Quisling Arrogance

The Toad-Eater

What of [mayors] with whom you have supt,
And of [chiefs] that you dined with yestreen?
Lord! A louse, [lass], is still but a louse,
Though it crawl on the curl of a queen.

(Poem, 1791, Cunningham version, altered)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Reply to the True "Loyal Natives"
(redirected to those immediate fools, the Barefoot Dirty Girls)

Ye [impugned “Grandfathered,”] attend to my song,
In [drug-hazed conniving] rejoice the night long;
From Envy or Hatred your corps is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt?

(Poem, 1793)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic*

Below thir stanes lie [Lynda's] banes:
O Death, it's my opinion,
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin bitch
Into thy dark dominion!

(Epitaph, 1784)

* po·lem·ic (n) A person engaged in or inclined to controversy, argument, or refutation. (adj) of or relating to a controversy, argument, or refutation.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Burns had another talent that is not so often celebrated, and that is his ability, to compose, 'off the cuff' and apparently without much previous thought, little snatches of verse - two, four , eight or 16 lines - which commemorate, celebrate, or excoriate some event or experience in his own life. ... As he puts it in one of his less well known poetic epistles:"

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash;
Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash;
Some rhyme to court the countra clash
And raise a din;
For me, an aim I never fash;
I rhyme for fun.

(from "Burns the Improviser", by Robert H. Carnie)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

from THE KIRK'S ALARM, A BALLAD.

Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
Seize your spiritual guns,
Ammunition ye never can need;
Your hearts are the stuff,
Will be powder enough,
And your skulls are a storehouse o' lead,
Calvin's sons,
And your skulls are a storehouse o' lead.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Letter to Mr. Cunningham

"[To Clarke, the Schoolmaster, Burns, it is said, addressed several letters, which on his death were put into the fire by his widow, because of their license of language.]"

11th June, 1791.

... God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, and such is my friend Clarke, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science, in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel: a fellow whom in fact it savours of impiety to attempt making a scholar of, as he has been marked a blockhead in the book of fate, at the almighty fiat of his Creator.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

My lament and resolve:

Fickle Fortune

Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She promis’d fair and perform’d but ill:
Of mistress, friends and wealth bereav’d me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.-

I’ll act with prudence as far’s I’m able,
But if success I must never find,
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I’ll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

(Poem, fragment, 1782)

"Prometheus" by Franz von Stuck

BDG Pict-O-Graph For Manteca

2011-03-22T17:14:00.000-07:00

As of March 2011

I'll bet anyone any amount that Lyin' Lynda Allen and Ravaged Red Brassey did not give any correct background - or tell any truth - to their visitors today.

Even this chart is a simplification, by necessity, because of all the BDG's ancillary illegal spin-offs, such as the remaining noncompliant structures, too many animals, refused garbage pickup, and a hincky solar permit.

(Of course, Yellow, Red and Green are real Wingdings and need no permits to be cunt bubbles ...)

.

Brownian Currents in the BDG Fish Tank

2011-03-21T17:07:00.000-07:00

I can understand the attraction of an aquarium. All the little fishies drift about aimlessly; do nothing except eat, sleep and poop; poke into every corner of their confined space in constantly shifting configurations; as close to a macro view of Brownian motion (press Play) as it gets. Very soothing, very relaxing.

Such was the Barefoot Dirty Girls' 810 Fishback fish tank when Spring sprung yesterday - soothingly aimless, as usual.

After another one of their now-frequent long weekends (leaving Friday, returning Sunday), they returned just before noon. (I keep hoping that one of these times they just don't come back.) Just like a professional circus act, the car disgorged the three clownish BDGs, three or four dogs, and required at least three trips between car and house to unload all the treasures and baggage. (It is an interesting observation that when all three march together, Lyin' Lynda leads like an unpedigreed pit bull, egg-shaped Resectioned Red waddles side-to-side furiously in the contrail, and the bow-legged, pot-bellied Corkscrewed Cow Pie picks up the rear[s].) They certainly do cast a "professional" aura.

- - - - - - - - - -

I'm sorry... I'm just so used to thinking of these venomous bitches as cartoons that I forget to humanize them (as much as is theoretically possible) for you, the more gentle, sensitive, undamaged reader. Anyway, here as they really are:

source (and more )

(click pic for source)

Of course, the highest priority for these space cadettes was immediately to ensure the ~~life support systems~~ environmental health and safety of their ~~valuable cash crop~~ precious "medicinal" dope plants.

After all, they had not been able to bestow their own special brand of TLC on their special herb twice daily for two-and-a-half days.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
Hydrophonic, ultra supersonic,
or does it growww... naturally slow?
(lyrics in "Ganga Babe," by Spearhead)

Then true Brownian motion set in...

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, the BDG's wandered around... and around... and around... constantly wandering.... They looked like they had lost something... (besides their minds).... They poked and sniffed every corner of their property, looking high and low, searching... they even stood around staring up into the sky... wandering off singly, or in all combinations of two out of three...

Several times they grouped together as all three Members of the Holy Fish Trinity, zig-zagging around their fish tank confines, Red and Green in the Yellow Queen's tow.

The whole afternoon was a condensed and refined version of the Sliding Numbers Puzzle they performed last summer with all their trash. At the rate they were going, it's no wonder they get the munchies (besides the pot smokin'... jus' sayin'....)

The oddest thing in the BDG fish tank yesterday, however, was instead of their regular 30-60 minute marijuana sessions with a few hours in between, it seemed they hit the Smokehouse every couple hours from the time they arrived until dark. Lunging, smoking... dodging, smoking... reeling, smoking... they acted like they really, REALLY wanted to get as high as possible. That, of course, made it even funnier to watch the THC-intoxicated Roly-Poly Red, or Lympy Lynda, or Curly Corkscrewed, as they bobbled and weaved from Smokehouse to main house for pee-pee breaks.

Yes, indeed, the signs of Spring are here!

'Course, this is California; Spring only last a few weeks (it withers slower than a BDG brain on dope.)

Yes, that IS Yellow's normal expression. ("Duh... what?")

Trash v. Garbage

2011-03-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

Listen, male sex object, no f'n TLC from us!
We want weed... and we want it NOW!

My attorney tells me the BDG's are howling and barking again, refusing to produce discovery items in the civil lawsuit and, in general, just being their normal horrible, bitchy selves. (Maybe they should smoke more of their head case "medicine"... oops, maybe that's the problem?!)

Before the hearing on April 20th, I'm putting some housecleaning items back on the record to show that the central question in the Motion for Summary Judgment is most definitely ripe for decision.

Here is the letter going out today to the City of Manteca. The letter gathers together an assortment of lies, errors, and ignorances on the parts of Lyin' Lynda Allen, Big Brassey Boobs, and several Catatonic City departments.

(Happy St. Patrick's Day!)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

City of Manteca
Mr. Pinkerton, City Manager
1001 W. Center Street
Manteca, CA 95337

March 17, 2011

Re: Deficiencies at 810 Fishback Street

Dear Mr. Pinkerton,

In February 2010 my neighbors gave up the illegal business use of their property, prompted no doubt by my civil lawsuit against them. The use was abandoned and their claim of legal designation was rescinded by the City of Manteca. (See attachment A, letter of December 15, 2010.) There remain four unresolved points with the owners and the property, three of which are directly tied to this rescinded use, and all of which are under City of Manteca jurisdiction.

1. Restore solid waste collection (Solid Waste & Finance Departments)

Some years prior to June 21, 1996, the owners of 810 Fishback Street ceased paying for refuse pickup, subsequently claimed grandfathered business use, and in 2000 were exempted from the municipal service. The City has lost thousands of dollars. Now that the business use has ceased, as noted above, the property must be restored to the municipal solid waste collection program, as are all other residences in this city. (See attachment B, Case Sheet for MS-34246, filed June 21, 1996.)

I request a copy of the Court’s orders for the exemption from the City’s files, or from the exempted owners. If such orders cannot be produced, then restoration of service is required.

2. Too many animals/dogs/cats (Animal Control & Code Enforcement Departments)

Among my neighbors’ first assertions in 2007 was their claim that their many dogs served to protect their business assets from thieves; specifically, food stored in their several outdoor refrigeration appliances. Even if their business use claim was valid, the Municipal Code still only allows for three dogs/cats on a residential lot.

For eighteen months I have tried to get Animal Control to reduce the dog count on the parcel, from six, to three or less. Animal Control now claims they have referred the complaint to Code Enforcement. (See attachment C, cover letter only, March 3, 2011 to Code Enforcement Department.)

3. Illegal construction still houses former business assets (Building Inspection & Code Enforcement Departments)

In December 2009 I notified the City of Manteca of certain noncompliant structures used in the business on the neighboring property. Deficiencies noted were/are: no permits for the poured concrete foundations; zero setback from the wooden property line fence; wood-destroying water drainage from both the noncompliant structures and the business appliances housed within. Some of the business appliances are now gone, but the noncompliant structures remain. (See attachment D, Request # 329034, December 29, 2009.)

Code Enforcement’s response started with: “Structure was in place at the time the city annexed the property.” That is untrue. The neighbors poured the concrete pads specifically to physically support the weight and vibrations of the various commercial appliances they installed during their “official” - and illegal - business expansion in 1993-94, well after the 1986 annexation. Further enclosure work took place after 2007.

4. Highly irregular building permit for solar electric system (Building Department)

The reputed owners of the photovoltaic system erected under permit 04-143, issued 4/28/04, were Roger and Flora Stewart of 786 Fishback Street. (See attachment E, Application and Inspection Record.) Unfortunately, Roger had died a year earlier, on 4/10/2003, age 87; his wife, Flora, died 10/29/2005, a year after the system’s installation, at age 83.

I am the current owner of 786 Fishback Street. My three questions are:

Why was the project built on a non-owner parcel (222-11-003 instead of 222-11-002)?

How did this 82-year-old woman get suckered into lending her name to her neighbor’s project?

How did the City of Manteca excuse such a lapse, or condone such a fraud, in the permitting process?

I am committed to seeing this property rehabilitation completed, for reasons I have repeatedly relayed to you since my first letter on March 5, 2008 (not attached.) Those reasons are grounded on the rationale stated in this 1954 court opinion, which should be the first commandment of all zoning and enforcement officials:

“Footnotes, note 2. ‘It has always been assumed that non-conforming uses would gradually eliminate themselves from the district in which they exist if they were not permitted to expand. Such has not proven to be the case. They not merely continue to exist, but to send down deeper roots. They become clear monopolies and special privileges. Their existence is a continual threat to the conservation of property values in the districts where they exist. The time has come when cognizance should be taken of this situation and provision made, probably in the state law, whereby non-conforming uses may be gradually eliminated under some equitable method of procedure.’ [Citation]” (emphasis added) [Los Angeles v. Gage, 127 Cal. App. 2d 442 (Cal. App. 1954)]

The above is for legal land uses. Reason dictates that there is need for action, not discussion, because the subject land use is/was noncompliant (illegal) from the outset and, unchecked for twenty-three years, sank several “deeper roots” that need killing.

Sincerely yours,

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Neither the BDG's nor their business, TLC Catering, were ever grandfathered,
so why are they still exempt from city garbage pickup?

Lowbrow Art: Final Part: David Lozeau: Dead On

2011-03-14T12:22:00.000-07:00

One Foot On The Banana Peel!

Everyone Crawls Under This One's Skirts
safely protected by a mouth more vicious than a junkyard dog(s) bite

From Kitchenware to Hardware
Please, please, just don't flash the cameras no more!

This Ensemble Sure Beats the "Summer Uniform"
of khaki shorts, sports bra, boots... and jelly pot belly?!

They Even Drag Their Damn Chickens To Hell!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Various Loungers, Hangers-On and Bit-Part Players

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

City of Manteca's Code Enforcement
and Animal Control Departments

City of Manteca Police Department

Manteca's Mayor (ex-Police Chief)

aka, The Plumber-Crack

Fulltime Foreign-Language-Speaking
Handyman and Boy-Toy

Getting A Friend To Hang Out As Bait

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Looking Forward to the (Immediate?!) Future

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(source of these fantastic - and hopefully prophetic - images by David Lozeau.)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

.

Lowbrow Art: Part 2: Ana Bagayan: Delayed Development

2011-03-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Delayed Development Plagues Puerile Players

"Impossible-To-Silence Lambie"

The Loud-Mouth's junior high yearbook picture.
(source)

Queen of Kitchenware

contemplates slicing and dicing her future as
Sous-Chef de Roach Coach(es)
(source)

Southern belle

playing with large, squishy, smelly things shaped like dog turds.
(source)

We Be Grandfathered, {Dummies}

Consumate illusionist and her puppet, "Raggedy Ann," put on a
soporific ventriloquist act for ~~dummies~~ City of Manteca officials.
(source)

~~Concocting~~ ~~Conjuring up~~ Developing a business plan

Pullulating* with vitiated** fecundity***, the trio gathers under a gazebo
to foster their lie , using an ouija board and Mary Jane.
(source)

- - - - - - - - - -
* pullulate (intr v) teem, swarm, breed rapidly or abundantly [from Latin pullulāre to sprout, from pullulus a baby animal, from pullus young animal]

** vi-ti-ate (verb used with object) 1. to impair the quality of; make faulty; spoil; 2. to debase; corrupt; pervert; 3. to make legally defective or invalid; invalidate: to vitiate a claim.

*** fecundity (n) productivity, readiness to bear

.

Lowbrow Art: Part 1: Mark Ryden: Beginnings

2011-03-14T11:31:00.000-07:00

The Angel of Meat

Patron saint of butchers, food stamp welfare cases,
and catering truck drivers

(Moreover, she gave TLC to three very really special children!)

The first belle infant trains to drive a dog cart
and handle large, slimy, squishy, nasty things.

The South has gargantuan bugs,
which are sometimes used in transportation.

The second brat trades her soul for the first catering truck she sees.

Sixty years later, she still insists on maintaining a collection of them in her yard.
(Prob'ly be buried in one... jus' sayin'...)

The third - a true "artiste" - routinely practices her
creative skills with imagination and sensitivity.

For instance, she can't stand anything with testicles.

The visions from the Angel of Meat become their live's only desire.

Well... that, plus their ball-breaking obsession!

Close call!

Or, was it just the trio's early experimentation with hallucinogens?
Good thing the Angel of Meat was watching over them.

The Fateful Punk/Goth Girl Gang
Destined to spread their perverted vision of TLC.

The New Angels of Meat

- - - - - - - - - -
Images' source: Mark Ryden website
- - - - - - - - - -

General note:

Lowbrow art, as opposed to highbrow or fine art, is variously described as "cartoon-tainted abstract surrealism" or "pop surrealism." No matter the words used, Ryden's use of the medium is richly expressive of how certain girls went horribly wrong.

.

Dispute Between Neighbors Leads To Gunfire

2011-03-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

Gunfight at the Not-So-OK Corral

Damn digital guns!
(source)

This post has the same title as the second story in this e-newsletter received from Bob Barzotta, author of the book, Neighbors From Hell, and owner of the website of the same name.

Old-fashioned celluloid guns were much more effective!

Motion For Summary Judgment - On File 52 Days

2011-03-07T18:48:00.000-08:00

Paparazzi could never get enough of this darling
in her endless yester-decades (...without clothes, makeup or wig here.)
Not bad spelling for a Pinolean, either.
A faithful image, with only a slightly amended greeting,
from this source

- - - - - - - - - -

For anyone out there still vaguely interested in whether the so-called "Justice System" is still alive... or has given up the ghost to congestive organ failure... or has merely faded away into ineffable irrelevancy... or simply dried up and blown away in the dust bowl of California's insolvency...

press this button

to get an update on the case still pending.

(Or try clicking here.)

Notice that the Plaintiff's Motion for Summary Judgement was filed on January 14th, 2011. The defendants had thirty days to file an answer (or 35 days, or 40 days, depending on which end of the ass is braying the loudest). Needless to say, all deadlines, all mailing allowances, all possible extensions of deadlines, and all possible extensions of mailing allowances have passed into eternity.

The stack of papers pictured is a twin to the stack filed with the court and served on the defendants in support of the motion. Here are links to the actual .pdf documents:

Amended Pleading (see Third Cause of Action)
MSJ-01 - Notice of Motion
MSJ-02 - Plaintiff's Motion For Summary Judgment
MSJ-03 - Memorandum of Points and Authorities
MSJ-04 - Plaintiff's Separate Statement of Undisputed Facts
MSJ-05 - Declaration of Richard Behling, Plaintiff
MSJ-06 - Declaration of Benjamin Cantu
MSJ-07 - Declaration of Arthur Barnes

- - - - - - - - - -

Do Farmers Insurance, Lyin' Lynda, or Resectioned Red give a shit?

See for yourself.

(BTW, don't be put off by the facial hair, she's been too busy puffin' to shave.)

.

Second String Takes The Field

2011-03-03T17:41:00.000-08:00

Source

A ~~new millenium~~ ~~new day~~ new thought has dawned in Manteca's Animal Control department - "We are no match for Lyin' Lynda and Resectioned Red. It's time for a lateral pass to the C.E. professionals."

And to help the second-stringers get their heads ~~outta their asses~~ into the game, I provided to them a lushly illustrated twelve-page history of the six prior contacts I have had with the City of Manteca over this one item alone. This is now the seventh. (They'll probably claim to read it, but only look at the centerfolds.)

Below is the cover letter. Everything else has appeared in this blog before, except for the security camera stills.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

City of Manteca
Code Enforcement Dept
1001 W. Center Street
Manteca, CA 95337

March 3, 2011

Dear sirs,

As shown by the within documentation, this complaint has been in existence for eighteen months. Despite the very best efforts of Animal Control personnel there are still at least seven dogs and cats being kept by their fossilized owners on a residential lot in the City of Manteca.

The owners and the property in question are:

Lynda Allen & Theresa Brassey
810 Fishback Street
Manteca, CA 95337

To aid you in identifying and counting the canines and feline in question, I have provided pictures of the animals from 2009, and security camera stills from last month (February) after impotent Animal Control threw up their hands.

The large dogs are named Gus, Blue, and Whiskey; one of the small dogs is named Rufus. Lynda calls them “her kids” in Answer #4, below.

Please see to it that the number of dogs and cats on the property is reduced to no more than three, in order to conform to Manteca Municipal Code, Section 17.07.030.

Sincerely yours,

.

Another Unhappy Manteca Camper

2011-02-28T12:42:00.000-08:00

... smashed by a careening catering truck...

Those who forsake the law praise the wicked, but those who keep the law resist them. Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the Lord understand it fully. When the wicked rise to power, people go into hiding; but when the wicked perish, the righteous thrive. (NIV Proverbs 28:4-5,28)

A new comment was made regarding this post from May, 2010. (I could not resist re-posting it here, where it will make the Neighbors From Hell, Volume V, printing later this year.) The commenter visits our often revisited theme that City of Manteca leadership and enforcement - or more specifically, the glaring lack of those qualities - are major detriments to this city. Missing these allows scofflaws and scumbags to reign supreme, to ride roughshod over any concepts of law, order, decency, neighborliness.

February 27, 2011
Anonymous said...

LORD! I hated this town since purchased home I thought was "in country." Stating this place is like OLD south in roughly 40-50's isn't covering blatant harrassing of familys, individuals here. Police do nothing I have seen that should be noted nor awarded.

They pull gun on dogs, old folks, discharge arms, then PYOB. Police each other BADLY, excuse, excuse.

Soldiers @ war, disabled seniors, do not get any assist: unless it is "out of town" (officated by local officers, act like children play games) Waste of tax money, air, and life in general . . .

- - - - - - - - - - -

Judging from the context, I take PYOB to be defined as "police each other badly" - also known as selective enforcement, closing ranks, and covering up.

Or, consulting the Urban Dictionary and other sources, it could mean:

Pour your own bottle (A higher class variation of BYOB, bring your own bottle)
Post your own babes (C'mon, guys, quit recycling other posters' chick pics!)
Pull your own boner (Uhn... something to do with Manteca's leaders?)

... etc.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Volume 4, the second half of 2010, is not pictured
Volume 5 now in progress

The Grand BDG Skedaddle

2011-02-24T12:06:00.000-08:00

Description: "Man walking dogs in the 'Grand Skedaddle' of the inhabitants from Charleston, S. C., when threatened by an attack from the Federal troops. When General Brannan made his daring and successful dash upon the railroad between Pocotaligo and Coosawhatchie the terror both in Savannah and Charleston was very great. Despite the fact that General Beauregard with thirty thousand troops was stationed midway between the cities a restless desire for flight took possession of thousands, and for three days the roads to the interior were crowded with as miscellaneous a group as that which marched into Noah's ark. Lieutenant Kirby, of the Forty-seventh Massachusetts Regiment, being then a prisoner, had an excellent opportunity of sketching this motley stream of humanity. But our sketch renders all further description unnecessary."— Frank Leslie, 1896 [Source: Frank Leslie, Famous Leaders and Battle Scenes of the Civil War (New York: Mrs. Frank Leslie, 1896)302]

web source

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Imagine the impotent frustration of Manteca's spayed/neutered Animal Control Department!

It has now been one and one-half years - and four separate contacts - since Lyin' Lynda was reported with too many animals (dogs, cats, chickens) on her property. And guess what? Despite warnings, notices, and citations, there are still too many animals on her property. The dumbass doper, L/L, just ignores the city ordinance, flips off the city officers, and continues to do as she pleases.

As I said last week, "Yep, Lying' Lynda is real good at sniffing ~~ass~~ ... er, sniffing out... dog catchers..."

So good, in fact, that after the latest complaint was logged, the Circus Ringmistress loaded up everybody - and four of the dogs - and disappeared for a week. The two big black junkyard dogs stayed the entire week and were visited daily for feeding/watering.

In the dust of the departing caravan, cometh Animal Control!

No doubt, a most thorough and intensive investigation took place, wherein the intrepid officer managed *not* to attract the attention of the two junkyard dogs, animals who spend their entire days lounging behind the driveway gate and barking at *every* jogger and dog walker, *every* baby carriage stroller and soccer mom car parker who happens to pass or park in front of the BDG's house.

These environmental facts lead me to disbelieve the second sentence of the officer's report. I also take umbrage at the insinuation I cannot count - or lie about it [...as you say.] - and that I must somehow do their job [proving the count] for these highly trained officers. (Lyin' Lynda's part in this FUBAR is to supply the lies.)

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Thu 2/24/2011
Closed Request # 593614
Your request # 593614 has been resolved with the resolution:

I been [sic] out to Lynda's house and no one seems to be home or they just don't answer the door, I have not heard or seen any dogs while I was there. I will at least call her and advise her if she has a machine that code enforcement will be taking over. since I have already issued her a citation and she has not got rid of some of her dogs as you say, The code enforcement team will taking over.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Lyin' Lynda and Resectioned Red snuck home a week later (yesterday), after giving Animal Control the slip.

What an amazing coincidence that the BDG's ditched the day after I filed the complaint, and returned the very evening before Animal Control closed the on-line case!

Another oddity is that Corkscrewed Green did not return with them. That was really funny! R/R and L/L had to tiptoe around yesterday afternoon because Corkscrewed is their doggie doo-doo picker-upper and a week's worth of "sole surprise" lay about. (What a life! Picking up shit for those two... just sayin'...)

........Oh, Rapturous Day! Calloo! Callay!, I chortle in my joy.

........They're sending in the code enforcement team?! Really?

........My complaint is being kicked "upstairs"? From the bench warmers to the second string?

Now we're really gonna see some code enforcement ass kickin'!

{Lyin' Lynda loves Manteca's CE circus clowns!}

Couldn't Stay Gone, Could You?

2011-02-23T14:31:00.000-08:00

BDG's return Wednesday, 2/23/2011, 1:50 p.m.

Sing Along: "Lynda's Boxes In Manteca, All Made Out of Ticky-Tacky"

2011-02-21T18:07:00.000-08:00

Little Boxes, San Leandro, All Made Out of Ticky-Tacky...

On a hillside: Bay-O-Vista Development.
Access: I-580 to San Leandro; exit Estudillo East; right on Benedict Dr.; left on View Dr.
Local High School: San Leandro H.S. (Home of the Pirates - "Arrgghh!")

Sample street names: Skyview, Marineview, Harborview, Longview, Lakeview.

Little Boxes, by Malvina Reynolds (she sings it here; click Season 1, Episode 1)

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.

There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All go to the university,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.

And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf-course,
And drink their Martini dry,
And they all have pretty children,
And the children go to school.

And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
And they all get put in boxes
And they all come out the same.

And the boys go into business,
And marry, and raise a family,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.

There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

See Malvina Reynolds: Song Lyrics and Poems at http://people.wku.edu/charles.smith/MALVINA/mr094.htm#1

Ms. Reynolds' song is a scathing swipe at the urban development patterns of Daly City, across the bay from San Leandro, but easily lends itself to any and all up-the-hillside developments.

The song also has direct application to Lyin' Lynda's half-acre compound on semi-rural Fishback Street (but still R-1 zoning) in flat-as-a-pancake Manteca, California. Every time I see L/L's pot shacks, or smell the odiferous cloud billowing from her Smokehouse, this song runs through my head.

During L/L's first season it was the big, white tent for her Wacky Tabacky (click Weeds Season 1, Episode 5 for the song by the NRBQ).

Then L/L's second season starts off with the Ticky-Tacky growing sheds ...

... kinda like houses and hotels on a Monopoly(c) Park Avenue...

...or whatever the heck those folks in the UK use as place names.

... or, a line of TLC migrant worker houses.

Photo credit

Ahhh, here comes the song again... "There's a green one, and a red one, and there's a yellow one, And they all are ticky-tacky, and they all reek just the same." Where I smell dopers, Lyin' Lynda sniffs money. "To hell with any laws," says she.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My recently acquired insights into the seamy scam known as the Compaaaasionate Use Act of 1996 (aka, California's Medical Marijuana law; aka, de facto legalization):

pushed by evil (the kingpin power brokers and money launderers)
enacted by greed and blackmail (purchased lawyers masquerading as state legislators)
abetted by corruption (toothless, spineless local politicians; hamstrung or dirty law enforcement; and a morbidly obese and deadly flatulent legal system)
abused by riff-raff (the parasitic "takers" of society, who voted themselves a legal "right" to stupidity and given a special entitlement of protected status)
protected and enforced by violent scum (street muscle who extort, rape, and kill the gold-laying geese)
allowed to exist by the completely apathetic ("none of my business"), or the futily disorganized and ineffectual ("what can one person do?"), or the abjectly misguided ("victimless crime", "revenue source", "free country") majority of residents of the Great State of California.

Very interesting entertainment that Showtime series, Weeds.

- - -

And where did that second TLC Catering truck go? I suppose the BDG's are going to grow their primo weed here in Manteca and distribute it elsewhere via a network of Asian/Indian/Mexican catering trucks. What a perfect retail cover business! Cash business; low inventories: extreme mobility for sales, sales prospecting, and bulk movements; malleable menu condiments ("Want I sprinkle summa this guarnición on that for ya?"); deep fryers, grease traps, toilets for contraband disappearance before a bust; "no speek eenglase" defense while being questioned.

Of course, it'd be lots easier just to poke packets through the chain link fence between them and the high school. (But none of the three looks like Mary-Louise Parker! "We show you our faces, You're gone without traces..." just sayin'...)

And the grow shed power consumption problem? "No problem!" crows Lyin' Lynda. "We got us'ns seven huge solar panels on the property to run these here growing sheds."

Of course, the Manteca Building Permit Department did NOT issue a permit for the photovoltaic system to Lyin' Lynda Allen. No... for some unknown reason, the photovoltaic permit was issued in 2004 to build the system on L/L's property, but the owners of the system were listed as the next door octogenarians, Roger and Flora Stewart of 786 Fishback Street. These people were totally unrelated to L/L and no City documentation to show a power-sharing contractual relationship between the two properties and owners. In fact, Roger had died (87 years old) a year before this permit was pulled, and Flora, his wife, 82 years old when the permit was pulled, died eighteen months later. Is this just another business-as-usual screw-up by the City of Manteca? Or, yet another example of Lyin' Lynda intimidating and defrauding the elderly neighbor woman? Who would be stupid enough, or frightened enough, or swindled enough, to lend their good name to Lyin' Lynda?

Oh... and TWO 10x12 growing sheds? Just how much dope do three ~~honest~~ women need? They should be very careful about spreading their ~~joy~~ painkiller around. Here's a cautionary tale from the Manteca Bulletin just before Valentine's Day.

Manteca Bulletin story (Feb 12th)

Manteca Bulletin story followup (Feb 13th)

News 10 story with a slideshow

{whistling the catchy tune} "Lynda's boxes in Manteca, B-D-G's growing ticky-tacky..." {whistling, whistling} "... and they all reek just the same."

.

A Horse of That Colour

2011-02-18T17:10:00.000-08:00

Surreal Zorses (here)

MARIA: My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour....

For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

[Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH: Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW: Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY BELCH: She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: what o' that?

SIR ANDREW: I was adored once, too.

(Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 3)

Ah, but the dreams I have of Baskerville hounds...

. . . . .

Lions and Tigers and BDG's! Oh, my!

Feb 2011... Sniffing Out Manteca Animal Control

2011-02-16T18:20:00.000-08:00

Running With His Five Other K9 Friends...

Yep, Lying' Lynda is real good at sniffing ~~ass~~ ... er, sniffing out... dog catchers, police officers, lawyers, and process servers. She can also sniff up ~~the back side~~ ... er, sniff up to... various white trash, catering truck drivers, insurance agents, and drug dealers. A finely honed life skill that a life-long NFH should be real proud of...

{Just sayin'...}

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
February 2011
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wed 2/16/2011
New Request # 593614
Request type: Other (animals)
Description: Too many dogs/cats on residential lot.

(p.s. Lynda, Theresa or Corky, one is always home.)

* history cited *

{See ya next month...}

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
January 2011
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Manteca-CRM: Closed Request # 574732
Sent: Tue 1/25/2011 7:29 AM
Your request # 574732 has been resolved with the resolution:
Lynda hasn't been home for me to check on the # of animals, so I'll be issuing her a citation through the mail in regards to having to [sic] many animals.

[Ref this post]

- - - - - - - - - -
Mon 1/17/2011 6:12 PM
New Request # 574732
The Complaint you submitted was:
Request type: Other (animals)
Location: 810 Fishback Street
Description: Too many animals on the property. MMC only allows three dogs/cats per lot.
9/1/10 - Courtesy Notice # 6408
9/22/10 - Owners warned by officer
9/23/10 - Citation issued
1/17/11 - All six dogs and a cat still there...

[Ref this post]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
September 2010
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thu 9/23/2010 1:16 PM
Your request # 463677 has been resolved with the resolution:
Yesterday 9/22/10 I went out to 810 Fishback to see if they have gotten rid of any of her dogs yet. Lynda said her dogs are too old to find new homes for and they are her kids. I went back out today to 810 Fishback and issued Lynda a citation for too many dogs.

[Ref this post]

- - - - - - - - - -
Mon 9/20/2010 2:46 PM
New Request # 463677
Request type: Other (animals)
Description: The owners keep six dogs on the residential property. Code only allows for three dogs and/or cats. Ref: Courtesy Notice 6408, 01Sep2010.

[Ref this post]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
August/September 2010
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wed 9/1/2010 10:55 AM
Manteca-CRM: Closed Request # 455062
Your request # 455062 has been resolved with the resolution:
I went to 810 Fishback and Issued Courtesy Notice 6408 to Lynda advising her she is only allowed to have 3 dogs on her property, and the others she would need to fine [sic] homes for.

[Ref this post]

- - - - - - - - - -
Tue 8/31/2010 6:52 PM
Manteca-CRM: New Request # 455062
The Complaint you submitted was:
Request type: Other (animals)
Description: The owners keep six dogs on the residential property. Code only allows for three dogs and/or cats.

[See this post for pictures of the six cutest living organisms on the property... {the others are dogs.}]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
September/November 2009
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
November 18, 2009 request for review of Animal Control screw-up. Even with a follow up second request a couple months later, my question went completely unanswered.

... It appears that P. Miller in Animal Control interprets the subsection to allow five dogs on a single R-1 lot.

Please let me know whether the MMC subsection is correct (3 dogs allowed) or the Animal Control citation is correct (5 dogs allowed).

Sincerely yours,

- - - - - - - - - -
9/8/09 Courtesy Notice cock-up:
(Especially note the Remark: "Two houses on property" and immediately below that the accounting: "3 dogs - 2 dogs.")

- - - - - - - - - -

September 8, 2009

The Mother of All Dogs

... Brassey appeared suddenly, looking like a cartoonish, apoplectic bulldog barrelling down on me. Pausing, dipping, she picked up a garden hose, spun the faucet wide open, and continued the charge....

{for daring to turn in her "babies"...}
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - -

To be completely candid, I'd rather have all the dogs stay and the owners go.

Just sayin'...

.

Summary Judgment on Bong Art Copyright Ripoff

2011-02-14T18:21:00.000-08:00

Build This Bong: Instructions and Diagrams

for 40 Bongs, Pipes and Hookahs

Home-growing dopers can check out this
exciting DIY manual at this Amazon listing!

I just knew there might be something that Lyin' Lynda may be able to build without tarps. It's a very good thing, though, that she has Resectioned Red to keep her ass out of a legal sling, seeing as how R/R has Patent Office experience (yea, yea... that's gotta be close enough to copyright experience.)

Funny things come up when "summary judgment" is Googled (c).

Plaintiff author wins summary judgment on ripoff of bong illustration, below, from his book, above.

T-shirt defendant rips off inventor's published artwork

Two familiar-sounding quotes from the plaintiff's intellectual property attorney's blog (although L/L nor her attorney understand "intellectual" anything):

Defendant’s second argument disappeared like a puff of smoke, created by use for medicinal purposes only.

. . .

Defendant’s third argument, which may have been formulated in a smoke filled room, claimed...

Gee, those paragraph introductions sound like I could have written them.

It is very apparent that significant commonalities and impairments are shared by dope smokers, whether they live at 810 Fishback Street in the City of Manteca, or not.

.

Manteca Sleeper Cell Pretends Christian Piety

2011-02-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

Recitation of facts

For history on the sudden appearance of the yard radio immediately after the lawsuit for illegal land use was filed on Lyin' Lynda in May 2009, see [this post]. This is how L/L added spiteful noise to nuisance noise for daring to question her bona fides (which she ain't got!)

In April 2010, L/L was charged with P.C. 415(2), Disturbing the Peace, with her outdoor radio playing. See [this post] for the back story.

In July 2010 the outdoor radio was rolled into the civil lawsuit charging illegal land use (catering business on a residential lot) and creating nuisance noise, see [this post].

On a repeat Disturbing the Peace offense, L/L was arrested on January 16th. See [this post] for the story of the citizen's arrest (catch and release).

Commentary on Lyin' Lynda'a statements to police

Crime Report 2011-1362 narrates the events surrounding Lyin' Lynda's latest arrest. The gist of the report is that the officer understood her phony call for police service ninety minutes earlier, he plainly saw her manipulative actions on that first visit, and he experienced her utter predictability for making a patience-straining nuisance of herself, necessitating my second call of the morning.

Give the bitch credit for BIG BRASSEY BALLS because, even in this extremity, straight from the horse's ~~ass~~ mouth came these two supposed defenses:

"Allen stated she was listening to Christian music and used her outdoor speakers because she did not have indoor speakers."

Never at any time have I differentiated what kind of music or sports L/L has played on her infernal radio. The responding officer apparently agreed with that stance; a noise disruption is a noise disruption, the "flavor" of the disruption makes no difference. There is no infringement on one's God-given right to worship how, where, or what one may, provided there is no infringement on another's right to do the same - in this case, quietly and without someone else's choice of music or sports being forced upon him.

Did I mention before that I believe NOTHING that comes out of that horse's ~~ass~~ mouth. Like lawyers, if Lyin' Lynda's mouth is moving, she's lying. One reason I find her lack of speakers defense totally unbelievable is that during the summer and fall of 2010 L/L spent tens of thousands of dollars on a total home makeover, inside and out, including a giant Sony TV for her ~~north-facing bedroom~~ living room, yet "she did not have indoor speakers."

A second reason I do not believe her "no speakers" statement is the existence of at least two stereo speaker systems in her piles of yard junk on June 5, 2010. And who knows how many rock speakers she has lying around, as well?

Of course, NONE of the foregoing will make any impression on L/L's drug-sotted mind. The only thing the officer told her - or, the only thing that caught her slow-witted attention - was this:

"Allen was also informed of the Manteca Municipal Ordinance which states she may be billed for police services should we be called again for the music."

Ah, finally! The police are talking her language, which is...

Prayer, no. Parsimony, yes!

Three Sheets To The Wind...

2011-02-08T12:42:00.000-08:00

Hey-Ho! Hey-Ho!
Jack Sparrow sails to the rescue
of the Barefoot Dirty Girls

Lyin' Lynda probably thought she could rig up some tarp sails because she saw pictures of sailboats on the walls of the attorney/mediator's office last December (or because she could see boats on San Pablo Bay from the foot of Tennent Avenue in Pinole when she was a wee lass.) Regardless, the ~~Tarp Slut~~ ~~Tarp Whore~~ Tarp Queen set sail...

Then Mother Nature took care of business

On January 27th I submitted a picture of Lynda's public erection to the City of Manteca Code Enforcement Department in the hope that the sheer perversity of this "sail" - this overheight fence addition - would produce action. (You and I can both guess what actions they took. {fart}) Whether they took action or not is now immaterial.

7:05 a.m.
Broken strut on left and on right,
bowing strut on right, discontinuous crosspiece on top

A little after 3:00 a.m. this morning, February 8, 2011, a gentle breeze started to blow. As it grew stronger, the sails were luffing and popping, and soon the Mickey Mouse supports were being wrenched to and fro, finally snapping, guy wires and ropes strained, and the whole juvenile assembly threatened to loose itself from its moorings and sail away.

But, wait! you exclaim. Where are sheets #2 and #3?

Oh... I see I did not show you the entire rigging earlier. There really were three sheets in the wind * this morning:

"Sails" between Smokehouse and main house

The strengthening wind provided great lifting and shearing actions and the upper left corner of the brown tarp got loose from the Smokehouse eave, threatening to take out the surveillance camera tucked up behind it. With the other corner still attached to the vulnerable cable and whipping it like crazy, yet another surveillance camera on the main house was imperiled.

The blue tarp was wired to the fruitless mulberry on the right, and the supporting 2x4 on the left was nailed to the rickety fence and the even more rickety "fence height extenders" (scrap wire and plywood pieces - true White Trash construction! What d'ya expect from three dopers?) This sail was threatening to knock down Lyin' Lynda's precious sound-permeable fence - regardless of the several layers of horizontal repurposed fence boards nailed across the back.

The lights came on in the shanty shed at 4:00 a.m. as Corkscrewed Green knocked about, trying to figure out how to strike the tarps, which were really flapping up a storm by now.

I vacillated, with my finger on the cell phone Call button, as questions swirled in my head. Do I call MPD with yet another disturbing the peace charge? Did code enforcement do anything at all regarding these nuisances and violations? Where is my chain saw?

At 6:05 a.m. the Silver Bullet pickup arrived with the BDG's current worker boy toy. What astounding response time these prigs rate! Who else demands and receives 6:00 a.m. service? Of course, this is the same laborer who hammered and tied up these abominations under the careful and personal supervision of Lyin' Lynda, Resectioned Red and Corkscrewed.

A little after 7:00 a.m. all the sails were down, furled, and stowed.

What CAN'T the BDG's build with a tarp and a few nails? They were all three sheets in the wind (intoxicated, doped, impaired) on this latest round. I can't wait to see their next asinine slip-and-fall, their next shoot-themselves-in-the-foot stunt, their next cannabis overdose Yellow Submarine quest.

.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
* Robert Louis Stevenson was as instrumental in inventing the imagery of 'yo ho ho and a bottle of rum' piracy as his countryman and contemporary Sir Walter Scott was in inventing the tartan and shortbread 'Bonnie Scotland'. Stevenson used the 'tipsy' version [ed: single sheet] of the phrase in Treasure Island, 1883 - the book that gave us 'X marks the spot', 'shiver me timbers' and the archetypal one-legged, parrot-carrying pirate, Long John Silver. He gave Silver the line:

"Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind's eye. But I'll tell you I was sober; "

Arrrgh! quoth L/L...

Why Verse? Why Limerick?

2011-02-04T18:11:00.000-08:00

“So what you’re saying is that I write poetry because underneath my mean callous heartless exterior I really just want to be loved,” he said. He paused, “Is that right?”

Ford laughed a nervous laugh. “Well, I mean, yes,” he said, “don’t we all, deep down, you know … er …”

The Vogon stood up. “No, well, you’re completely wrong,” he said, “I just write poetry to throw my mean callous heartless exterior into sharp relief. I’m going to throw you off the ship anyway. [ed: spaceship] Guard! Take the prisoners to number three airlock and throw them out!” (The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams)

- - - - - - - - -

“Life,” said Marvin dolefully, “loathe it or ignore it, you can’t like it.”

One of the major difficulties Trillian experienced in her relationship with Zaphod was learning to distinguish between him pretending to be stupid just to get people off their guard, pretending to be stupid because he couldn’t be bothered to think and wanted someone else to do it for him, pretending to be outrageously stupid to hide the fact that he actually didn’t understand what was going on, and really being genuinely stupid. He was renowned for being amazingly clever and quite clearly was so—but not all the time, which obviously worried him, hence the act. He preferred people to be puzzled rather than contemptuous. This above all appeared to Trillian to be genuinely stupid, but she could no longer be bothered to argue about it. (Ibid)

- - - - - - - - -

The limerick* packs laughs anatomical
In space that is quite economical,
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

*(pronounced "lim'rick" to preserve meter)

Gershon Legman, who compiled the largest and most scholarly anthology, held that the true limerick as a folk form is always obscene, and cites similar opinions by Arnold Bennett and George Bernard Shaw. From a folkloric point of view, the form is essentially transgressive; violation of taboo is part of its function.

From Limerick on Wikipedia.

- - - - - - - - -

Like Trillian, I become extremely bored arguing against Lyin' Lynda's amazing cleverness and monumental stupidity. (Or, amazingly and monumentally stupid cleverness. See? It really doesn't matter how you mix the four words.) She is such an easy target because she constantly supplies all the insipid, tasteless, illegal, immoral, and stupefyingly moronic anecdotes to fill volumes. How any person can function like that on a daily basis is grounds for incredulity! I have been incredulous for four years now!!

It is not merely the boredom, but recognizing the rare opportunity of catching these neighbors and more than a few City of Manteca officials with their pants down (and their panties twisted in knots), that drives me to document the twisted turns of events and even more twisted personalities. Verse lends itself to painting the necessary pictures; it is more powerful and descriptive than photographs of the scrubby, obnoxious degenerates who foul the earth, wind, and water just to the south and those who desecrate city hall.

The absolutely most appropriate verse form for this most abhorrent task is limerick, as explained above and applied below.

Lyin' Lynda is transgressive; she ignores and violates every law of the city and state; she transgresses every law of God, nature and humanity.
Lyin' Lynda is a violation of taboo; in the eyes of Manteca officialdom, she is taboo, a Goddess, off-limits, "Don't tell", contraband; yet she violates all those proscriptions.
Lyin' Lynda is obscene; her middle finger in the air, her public erections (all documented in this blog) - her mere existence - offends decency and contravenes community standards. That she has avoided apprehension all these years is an obscene tribute to her murine appearance, her serpentine double-tonguing, and the asinine, blind city officials.

Q.E.D.
Thus we see that Lyin' Lynda is the embodiment of Limerick.

- - -

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe is one of the most
extraordinary ventures in the entire history of catering.
(Guide, ibid.)

TLC Catering? "We're #2! We're #2!

_ _ _

Just How Stupid Is This Woman?

2011-02-01T17:53:00.000-08:00

Tarp "sail" on left - January 26th
Tarp "roof extension" on right - January 31st

The only thing Lyin' Lynda knows how to do perfectly is... how to do everything wrong. Putting up these tarps is a perfect measure of L/L's mental capacities. When she paid all of Resectioned Red's inheritance money to contractors, the results look pretty good. (Of course, it wasn't until after the expenditures that L/L cottoned to the fact she couldn't sell the property.) But the instant she puts her amateurish hand to something like this, what we see is White Trash Architecture at its finest.

Other earlier examples:

Plywood sound barriers?

Randomly spaced picket offsets

Award-winning repurposed fence boards

- - - - -

Lyin' Lynda had a noisy and illegal business operation on her property. Was she stupid enough to think I would not pursue her with civil complaints throughout 2008 and a lawsuit in May 2009?
Lyin' Lynda added to, then replaced, the business noise with yard radio nuisance noise. Was she stupid enough to think I would not pursue her with criminal charges in April 2010 and January 2011?
Lyin' Lynda pretends she is Sarah Winchester and keeps building more shit without permits. Is she stupid enough to think I will not follow up with administrative complaints?
Lyin' Lynda cannot read and she cannot count. (After all, she attended Pinole High School... just sayin’…) Why else would she be stupid enough to ignore the law and keep six dogs? Does she not know I will assist her to overcome her deficiencies? And her excesses?
Lyin' Lynda got an "owie" and took "medical retirement;" now she and her lovers gotta smoke "medical" marijuana just to make it through the long daylight hours. (Don't worry, they got each other to keep warm at night.) Was she stupid enough to think I would not ensure that her home-growing operation met city code, especially since it is right next to a high school? Is she still stupid enough to think I will not watch for illegal actions regarding her new venture?
Lyin' Lynda has since October 2010 harassed me with unwarranted video surveillance. Was she stupid enough to think I would not return her favors with my own counter-surveillance?

The depths of this depraved soul's double standard are manifest in her blocking my cameras’ views, but leaving her camera’s view unblocked. (Whatcha' got to hide, L/L?)

Does this stupid woman not know I will continue pursuing the objective of ~~improving the world~~ ridding her from my life.

What this stupid woman ~~has never figured out in the four years I’ve been helping her~~ can never figure out is that the fence line is where her intrusions must STOP! (Somehow, she views the fence as her jumping off point…?)

Illegal businesses and noise…
Outside radio…
Dogs, cats, chickens…
Building permit violations…
Marijuana smoke…
Surveillance…

If Lyin’ Lynda’s presence STOPPED at the fence line, we could live in peace.

As long as she continues intruding her presence, we live at war.

Ignorance, laziness, willfulness, and other human conditions can be controlled or improved, with varying degrees of success. But STUPID cannot be fixed – and DRUGGED STUPID is unalterable. As long as this stupid woman continues to contravene law, ignore city codes, harass her neighbors, and intrude her abjectly pathetic life onto others, I will continue to wear the title…

"Lyin' Lynda's... Warden?... Babysitter?... Neighbor From Hell?"

Ah, here's a simple test of the reader's knowledge of human nature: Two parties call each other the Neighbor From Hell. One of the parties vehemently denies the label and clamors unceasingly regarding innocence. The other party reluctantly accepts the label, knowing from the beginning that the badge would be pinned on him, yet must continue the fight despite the fiery darts of the adversary.

"That is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?"

(Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1)

That is the "Solomonic" question: Which one is the Neighbor From Hell?

I loosely paraphrase Ford Prefect in The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,

If Lyin' Lynda doesn’t keep exercising her lips, her mouth would probably seize up. After a few months’ consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favor of a new one. If she doesn’t keep on exercising her lips, her brain would start working. After a while he abandoned this one as well as being obstructively cynical.