"cursed jbr morgue logs anonymously
mailed to fruity place...part 1"
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february 19th-21st "We've got a couple of controlled burns going on"...I heard that come out of a guard's radio. My towel smells like a campy fire. The hoot owls went wild over the Ramsey parody on Mad TV Saturday night. (LOL). Oh, NoraNora, I'm having weekend ennui. They should pipe in the fragrance of caramel corn. I noticed an item in the Denver Post about Monsieur TINSLEY, the accused murderer (of his girlfriend) who was in my pod when I was RAVAGED in Douglas County. Apparently he made a trite attempt to act as if Les Suicide hole was calling him. He "superficially" sliced his wrists. He was taken for evaluation at les state hospital. One really should take into account that I felt much as I do now when I was FREE. When I was a bike messenger in San Francisco...before I became a corpse abusing arsonist...I used to sing, "Home On The Range" in the most godawful mournful twangin tone as I rode les hills delivering notes. So one day I gets in les elevator in one of the Embarcadero Center buildings and the other messenger, whom I didn't recall seeing before, bursts out with the song in the exact same styling. My mouth hardly ever goes agape like it did then. Okay, if you are reading "Perfect Murder" you know that Jeezy Weezy blessed me with homosexuality. So now you can see another DIPLOMA on my wall of jaded credentials. I have hustled les sex on Les Boulevard Santa Monica, and elsewhere....Atlanta, Denver, S.F., San Antonio...onwards. I have seen thousands of corpses. I was in les Armie, and I've been in jail several times. These definitely make me a HARVARD MAN in les monde jaded. Do they not? I think they do? The look on my face says, "FIRE ME", so, you see? If someone suggests you are "damned" it is only right and good to cremate the person alive whilst chanting, "this is the thing I do to stooges". May I point out to you that Corpsey Lorpsies in the process of cremation actually REACH OUT and scratch le sides of les phucking retort. IT is a sight. But they will not be whispered or harassed out of a job again! As for me, the only letter I got on Friday was from les bureau du vehicles motorized. And les beyatch there informs me that, "oui, oui", I am right to think my license expired while here. That lapse fee will be $45.00. (Do you realize that's way over 200 francs, mon dieu!) But les major problem is, Wyoming has slapped a block on re obtaining a license until I satisfy the clearance of a $200.00 speeding ticket that occured while hauling corpse. It's quite possible that logic and poverty will dictate trekking to that barren nowhere land only to go to jail in LARAMIE for a week or two to obtain the clearance. Maybe I'll see who's HANGING AROUND up there. Well, "Bunnyby", let me tell you it would be SIMPLY strange to sit up there and vacationistically say, "I just got an eight day sentence". Oh, I'd laugh, "Timex", for you see, I could do THAT sort of time on les toillette. I'm a trauma monster with a continual need for stimulation. What is les damage for driving recklessly and fecklessly through a life of continual stress? One can't answer "EXHAUSTION" for this word serves only to trigger a mechanism that IRRITATES les happier humans. It is a "whining complaint" that makes one OBSERVE deprivation. But for those of you who listen to les Patsy Manson Group down on les railroad tracks let us get to the question of what became of les morgue logs. As we know, I ripped two JonBenet pages out of les morgue log book while picking up an eye donating corpse in April of 97. Now, this SHOULDN'T sound so bad, SHOULD IT, in comparison with EELISH HUNTER slopping out police resumes? Where is les OUTCRY to have him placed here in my bunk with me? Okay, so due to Dave Rodgers snitching about my posession of these wretched documents all my detectives..homicide detectives...get riled up again. And the throwing of these logs on les fire frosts les PATSY CAKE with the entrance of Ramsey detectives Gosage and Thomas. "Here they come just a poundin at my door". Yes, but where are those morgue logs TODAY? And the answer begins: When I was sitting ticking les vida away watching les TV and drinking les beer in the YMCA I saw on the news that it was known the logs were missing. Thinking no one knew where I was I hadn't checked my mailslot at the Y to realize that reporters had already visited, leaving their biz cards. So I hops into les action and snatches les logs off les floor and I wrote les note, (notes, notes everywhere) and I mailed les things to les friend Randy in les homosexuelle capital du San Francisco,see? The next day, after seeing the news articles about les logs I decided this would not do.I try to get in touch with Randy with an asinine plan. This is difficult when you are a walking corpse on a payphone in Denver and the person you are trying to reach has a life in California. But I left a message with his partner Lee to send les logs anonymously to les Lions Lair bar on East Colfax avenue in Denver. The idea is he should contact les crime stoppers and perhaps les Chronicle to ensure that word of les impending arrival of les logs at les Lions Lair is KNOWN while they are in les mail. That way les police can scratch their heads wondering what that was all about. But Randy had apparently waddled to Stockton to visit family. My message didn't make it. And the morgue logs at this point just keep on sailing to San Francisco to wait in a pile on Randy's table for his return. And then...it gets good. Tomorrow. current | 1999 | 1998 | colfax diaries |