By Sheriff Joe Arpaio
Maricopa County, Arizona
“A liberal paradise would be a place where everybody has guaranteed employment, free comprehensive healthcare, free education, free food, free housing, free clothing, free utilities, and only law enforcement has guns.”
“And believe it or not, such a place does, indeed, exist. It’s called prison.”
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
THREE CASES OF INFIDELITY
A married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day they went to her place and made love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep and woke up at 8 PM. The man hurriedly dressed and told his lover to take his shoes outside and rub them in the grass and dirt.
He put on his shoes and drove home. 'Where have you been?' his wife demanded.
'I can't lie to you,' he replied, 'I'm having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon.'
She looked down at his shoes and said: 'You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!'
__________
A middle-aged couple had two beautiful daughters but always talked about having a son. They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted. The wife got pregnant and delivered a healthy baby boy. The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his new son. He was horrified at the ugliest child he had ever seen.
He told his wife: 'There's no way I can be the father of this baby. Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered! Have you been fooling around behind my back?'
The wife smiled sweetly and replied: 'No, not this time!'
__________
Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside. He looked up and said weakly: 'I have something I must confess.'
'There's no need to,' his wife replied.
'No,' he insisted, 'I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!'
'I know,' she replied. 'Now just rest and let the poison work.'
He put on his shoes and drove home. 'Where have you been?' his wife demanded.
'I can't lie to you,' he replied, 'I'm having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon.'
She looked down at his shoes and said: 'You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!'
__________
A middle-aged couple had two beautiful daughters but always talked about having a son. They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted. The wife got pregnant and delivered a healthy baby boy. The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his new son. He was horrified at the ugliest child he had ever seen.
He told his wife: 'There's no way I can be the father of this baby. Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered! Have you been fooling around behind my back?'
The wife smiled sweetly and replied: 'No, not this time!'
__________
Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside. He looked up and said weakly: 'I have something I must confess.'
'There's no need to,' his wife replied.
'No,' he insisted, 'I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!'
'I know,' she replied. 'Now just rest and let the poison work.'
Monday, November 24, 2014
‘READY FOR FERGUSON’
Woman accidentally kills herself with a gun bought to defend herself against violent protestors
BarkGrowlBite | November 24, 2014
Becca Campbell, 26, and her unnamed 33-year-old boyfriend bought a gun to protect themselves from the violent protests they feared would break out if the Ferguson grand Jury fails to indict Darren Wilson.
On Friday night the couple was driving in downtown St. Louis. According to the police, as the boyfriend was driving, Becca playfully waved the gun around while joking “Ready for Ferguson.” When she pointed the gun in his direction, the boyfriend ducked and – oops – struck the rear end of another car. The crash caused – double oops – the gun to discharge, the bullet – triple oops – striking her in the head.
The ‘Ready for Ferguson’ woman was rushed to a hospital where she croaked.
The cops are looking into the possibility that the boyfriend shot Becca.
BarkGrowlBite | November 24, 2014
Becca Campbell, 26, and her unnamed 33-year-old boyfriend bought a gun to protect themselves from the violent protests they feared would break out if the Ferguson grand Jury fails to indict Darren Wilson.
On Friday night the couple was driving in downtown St. Louis. According to the police, as the boyfriend was driving, Becca playfully waved the gun around while joking “Ready for Ferguson.” When she pointed the gun in his direction, the boyfriend ducked and – oops – struck the rear end of another car. The crash caused – double oops – the gun to discharge, the bullet – triple oops – striking her in the head.
The ‘Ready for Ferguson’ woman was rushed to a hospital where she croaked.
The cops are looking into the possibility that the boyfriend shot Becca.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
BILL CLINTON AND THE GENIE
Bill Clinton was driving home when he accidentally ran over his neighbor’s new puppy Sunny, crushing it flat as a fritter. He climbed out of his car and sat down on the grass totally distraught. He knew his neighbor’s family would go friggin' ballistic.
Then he noticed a lamp half-buried in the ground. He dug it up, brushed it off and immediately a Genie popped out. "You have freed me from thousands of years of imprisonment," said the Genie "As a reward I shall grant you one wish."
"Well," said Bill, "I have all the material things I need, but let me show you this poor dog."
They walk over to the splattered remains of Sunny. "Do you think you could bring this dog back to life for me?" Bill asked. The Genie looked at the remains and shook his head. "This critter is too far gone for even me to bring it back to life. Maybe there's something else you'd like?"
Bill thought for a minute, reached into his pocket and pulled out two photos. "I had an affair with this beautiful young girl called Monica," said Bill, showing the genie the first photo. "But I’m actually married to this woman,” showing the genie a photo of Hillary. "You see Hillary isn't beautiful at all, so do you think you can make her look like Monica?"
The Genie studied the two photographs and after a few moments said, "Damn it, let's have another look at the dog!"
Then he noticed a lamp half-buried in the ground. He dug it up, brushed it off and immediately a Genie popped out. "You have freed me from thousands of years of imprisonment," said the Genie "As a reward I shall grant you one wish."
"Well," said Bill, "I have all the material things I need, but let me show you this poor dog."
They walk over to the splattered remains of Sunny. "Do you think you could bring this dog back to life for me?" Bill asked. The Genie looked at the remains and shook his head. "This critter is too far gone for even me to bring it back to life. Maybe there's something else you'd like?"
Bill thought for a minute, reached into his pocket and pulled out two photos. "I had an affair with this beautiful young girl called Monica," said Bill, showing the genie the first photo. "But I’m actually married to this woman,” showing the genie a photo of Hillary. "You see Hillary isn't beautiful at all, so do you think you can make her look like Monica?"
The Genie studied the two photographs and after a few moments said, "Damn it, let's have another look at the dog!"
INNER-CITY HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION
Darqueeze played football on an inner-city high school team. He was a great running back and pass receiver, but a really poor student.
At graduation, he didn't have enough credits. But he was a great football star and the students held a rally and demanded the principal give him a diploma anyway. They were so insistent that the principal agreed if Darqueeze could answer one question correctly he would give him a diploma.
The one question test was held in the auditorium and all the students packed the place. It was standing room only. The principal was on the stage and told him to come up. The principal had the diploma in his hand and said, "Darqueeze, if you can answer this question correctly I'll give you your diploma." He said he was ready and the principal asked him the question.
"Darqueeze," he said, "How much is three times seven?"
Darqueeze looked up at the ceiling and then down at his shoes, just pondering the question.
The other students began chanting, "Graduate him anyway! Graduate him anyway!"
Then Darqueeze held up his hand and the auditorium became silent. He said, "I think I know the answer. Three times seven is twenty-one."
A hush fell over the auditorium and then all the other students began another chant. "Give him another chance! Give him another chance!"
At graduation, he didn't have enough credits. But he was a great football star and the students held a rally and demanded the principal give him a diploma anyway. They were so insistent that the principal agreed if Darqueeze could answer one question correctly he would give him a diploma.
The one question test was held in the auditorium and all the students packed the place. It was standing room only. The principal was on the stage and told him to come up. The principal had the diploma in his hand and said, "Darqueeze, if you can answer this question correctly I'll give you your diploma." He said he was ready and the principal asked him the question.
"Darqueeze," he said, "How much is three times seven?"
Darqueeze looked up at the ceiling and then down at his shoes, just pondering the question.
The other students began chanting, "Graduate him anyway! Graduate him anyway!"
Then Darqueeze held up his hand and the auditorium became silent. He said, "I think I know the answer. Three times seven is twenty-one."
A hush fell over the auditorium and then all the other students began another chant. "Give him another chance! Give him another chance!"
DOCTORS MAKING PEOPLE LOOK FOR WORK
During an international medical conference, an Italian doctor says: "In Italy, medicine is so advanced that we Cut off a man's testicles, put them on another man, and in 6 weeks, he is looking for work."
A Dutch doctor says: "That's nothing, in Holland we take part of a brain, put it in another man, and in 4 weeks he is looking for work."
A Canadian doctor says: "Gentlemen, we take half a heart from a Man, put it in another's chest, and in 2 weeks he is looking for work."
An American doctor laughs: "You are all behind us. Six years ago, we took a man with no brains, no heart, and no balls and made him President. Now, the whole country is looking for work !"
A Dutch doctor says: "That's nothing, in Holland we take part of a brain, put it in another man, and in 4 weeks he is looking for work."
A Canadian doctor says: "Gentlemen, we take half a heart from a Man, put it in another's chest, and in 2 weeks he is looking for work."
An American doctor laughs: "You are all behind us. Six years ago, we took a man with no brains, no heart, and no balls and made him President. Now, the whole country is looking for work !"
Thursday, November 20, 2014
JOSE CANSECO GIVES US THE FINGER
No, Jose is not giving us the birdie
BarkGrowlBite | November 20, 2014
On October 28, former homerun slugger Jose Canseco was cleaning his 45 caliber Remington 1911 at his Las Vegas home when he accidentally shot off the middle finger on his left hand. Canseco told the cops he thought the gun was unloaded. Doctors were able to reattach the severed finger. However, on November 13, as he was playing in the middle of a poker tournament, the reattached finger fell off.
Now Canseco is giving us the finger. No, not the birdie. And it’s not for free. Jose is planning to sell the finger on eBay, together with the pistol which has a chrome mirror finish and custom grips with crystals and gold plating in the grips.
Jose says the eBay ad will read, “slightly used middle finger with 462 home runs could be used as a stirring straw for drinks.”
Unfortunately for Jose - who earned over $45 million in salary plus endorsements, but is now broke - eBay has a policy of not allowing firearms or body parts for sale.
Forget the 462 home runs. I want to know how many female genitals Jose’s finger has explored.
BarkGrowlBite | November 20, 2014
On October 28, former homerun slugger Jose Canseco was cleaning his 45 caliber Remington 1911 at his Las Vegas home when he accidentally shot off the middle finger on his left hand. Canseco told the cops he thought the gun was unloaded. Doctors were able to reattach the severed finger. However, on November 13, as he was playing in the middle of a poker tournament, the reattached finger fell off.
Now Canseco is giving us the finger. No, not the birdie. And it’s not for free. Jose is planning to sell the finger on eBay, together with the pistol which has a chrome mirror finish and custom grips with crystals and gold plating in the grips.
Jose says the eBay ad will read, “slightly used middle finger with 462 home runs could be used as a stirring straw for drinks.”
Unfortunately for Jose - who earned over $45 million in salary plus endorsements, but is now broke - eBay has a policy of not allowing firearms or body parts for sale.
Forget the 462 home runs. I want to know how many female genitals Jose’s finger has explored.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
THE SAD STATE OF EDUCATION
Why we are the laughing stock of the world
These students at Texas Tech, which is one of the premier universities in the Southwest, are most probably representative of college students throughout the U.S. If these students, who know more about the trashy TV show Jersey Shore than about our country, are the future of our nation, God help us all. The Chinese must be licking their chops.
These students at Texas Tech, which is one of the premier universities in the Southwest, are most probably representative of college students throughout the U.S. If these students, who know more about the trashy TV show Jersey Shore than about our country, are the future of our nation, God help us all. The Chinese must be licking their chops.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
NEW DOCTOR MAKES PROFOUND DIAGNOSIS
A young doctor moved out to a small community to replace a doctor who was retiring.
The older doctor suggested that the young one accompany him on his rounds, so the community could become used to a new doctor.
At the first house a woman complains, "I've been a little sick to my stomach."
The older doctor says, "Well, you've probably been overdoing the fresh fruit. Cut back on the amount you've been eating and see if that does the trick?"
As they left, the younger man said, "You didn't even examine that woman? How'd you come to the diagnosis so quickly?"
"I didn't have to. You noticed I dropped my stethoscope on the floor in there? When I bent over to pick it up, I noticed a half dozen banana peels in the trash. That was what probably was making her sick."
The younger doctor said "Pretty clever. If you don't mind, I think I'll try that at the next house."
Arriving at the next house, they spent several minutes talking with a younger woman. She said that she just didn't have the energy she once did and said, "I'm feeling terribly run down lately."
"You've probably been too involved with your church," the younger doctor told her. "Perhaps you should cut back a bit on your church activities and see if that helps."
As they left, the elder doctor said, "I know that woman well. Your diagnosis is most certainly correct, she's very active in the church, but how did you arrive at it?"
"I did what you did at the last house. I dropped my stethoscope and, when I bent down to retrieve it, I noticed a man wearing a white collar under the bed.
The older doctor suggested that the young one accompany him on his rounds, so the community could become used to a new doctor.
At the first house a woman complains, "I've been a little sick to my stomach."
The older doctor says, "Well, you've probably been overdoing the fresh fruit. Cut back on the amount you've been eating and see if that does the trick?"
As they left, the younger man said, "You didn't even examine that woman? How'd you come to the diagnosis so quickly?"
"I didn't have to. You noticed I dropped my stethoscope on the floor in there? When I bent over to pick it up, I noticed a half dozen banana peels in the trash. That was what probably was making her sick."
The younger doctor said "Pretty clever. If you don't mind, I think I'll try that at the next house."
Arriving at the next house, they spent several minutes talking with a younger woman. She said that she just didn't have the energy she once did and said, "I'm feeling terribly run down lately."
"You've probably been too involved with your church," the younger doctor told her. "Perhaps you should cut back a bit on your church activities and see if that helps."
As they left, the elder doctor said, "I know that woman well. Your diagnosis is most certainly correct, she's very active in the church, but how did you arrive at it?"
"I did what you did at the last house. I dropped my stethoscope and, when I bent down to retrieve it, I noticed a man wearing a white collar under the bed.
Friday, November 14, 2014
COP KEEPS HIS COOL IN THE FACE OF ANGRY TRAFFIC VIOLATOR’S TIRADE
A motorcycle cop stops a driver for shooting through a red light. The driver is a real jerk, steps out of his car and comes striding toward the officer, demanding to know why he is being harassed by a Stormtrooper!
So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation.
The motorist instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer's ancestry, sexual orientation, etc., in rather explicit offensive terms. The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.
When the officer finishes writing the ticket he puts an ‘AH’ in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the violator for his signature. The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the ‘AH’ and demands to know what it stands for.
The officer says, "That's so when we go to court, I'll remember that you're an asshole!"
Two months later they're in court. The violator has a bad driving record with a high number of points and is in danger of losing his license, so he hired a lawyer to represent him.
On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run through the red light. Under cross examination the defense attorney asks, "Officer, is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket that you issued to my client?"
The Officer responds, "Yes, sir, that is the defendant's copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top."
The Lawyer questions, "Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don't normally make?"
"Yes, sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an ‘AH’ underlined."
"And what does the ‘AH’ stand for, Officer?"
"Aggressive and hostile, Sir."
"Aggressive and hostile?"
"Yes, Sir.”
"Officer, are you sure it doesn't stand for asshole?"
“Well, sir, you know your client better than I do.”
So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation.
The motorist instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer's ancestry, sexual orientation, etc., in rather explicit offensive terms. The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.
When the officer finishes writing the ticket he puts an ‘AH’ in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the violator for his signature. The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the ‘AH’ and demands to know what it stands for.
The officer says, "That's so when we go to court, I'll remember that you're an asshole!"
Two months later they're in court. The violator has a bad driving record with a high number of points and is in danger of losing his license, so he hired a lawyer to represent him.
On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run through the red light. Under cross examination the defense attorney asks, "Officer, is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket that you issued to my client?"
The Officer responds, "Yes, sir, that is the defendant's copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top."
The Lawyer questions, "Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don't normally make?"
"Yes, sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an ‘AH’ underlined."
"And what does the ‘AH’ stand for, Officer?"
"Aggressive and hostile, Sir."
"Aggressive and hostile?"
"Yes, Sir.”
"Officer, are you sure it doesn't stand for asshole?"
“Well, sir, you know your client better than I do.”
REVENGE: HOW SWEET IT IS
A little boy about 12 years old is walking down the street dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He came up to the doorstep of 'a house of ill repute' and knocked on the door. When the Madam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted. He said, 'I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money to buy it, and I'm not leaving until I get it. The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, told him to pick any of the girls he liked. He asked, 'Do any of the girls have any diseases?' Of course the Madam said 'No'. The boy said, 'I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after making love with Amber – That’s the girl I want.'
Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headed down the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him. Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door.
The Madam stopped him and asked, 'Why did you pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?' He said, 'Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of cute little boys. She will then get the disease that I just caught. When Mum and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home. On the way, he'll give her one in the car and he'll catch the disease. Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitter's, he and Mum will go to bed and have sex, and Mum will catch it.
Then the Madam said "Well, that is just sick!" "Yes", said the boy, "but in the morning when Dad is at work, the Mailman will deliver the mail, have a quickie with Mum and catch the disease, and he’s the fucking prick who ran over my frog!'
Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headed down the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him. Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door.
The Madam stopped him and asked, 'Why did you pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?' He said, 'Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of cute little boys. She will then get the disease that I just caught. When Mum and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home. On the way, he'll give her one in the car and he'll catch the disease. Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitter's, he and Mum will go to bed and have sex, and Mum will catch it.
Then the Madam said "Well, that is just sick!" "Yes", said the boy, "but in the morning when Dad is at work, the Mailman will deliver the mail, have a quickie with Mum and catch the disease, and he’s the fucking prick who ran over my frog!'
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
SOS CALL FROM THE PHILIPPINES (EPILOGUE)
Busted for money laundering and put on the No Fly List
BarkGrowlBite | November 11, 2014
The time is at hand for me to fess up. Yes, it’s all been a hoax. I hope all of you enjoyed my spoof. I wanted to have a little fun and see if I could fool any of you into believing my tale of woe.
For any of you who might have believed it, I will say that my tale may not be all that farfetched. The third world is far different from the Western World and something like this could conceivably happen to some poor schmuck. After all, there are assholes like Justin Arschloch around who will take their frustrations out on you and, as the Obama administration has shown, there are government officials who will screw opponents of the President. [‘Arschloch’ is German for ‘asshole’]
Actually I had a great three weeks in the Philippines. The Filipinos are very friendly. The few cops I saw were heavily armed with assault rifles or shotguns, but they seemed to be courteous to everyone.
Traveling on Cebu’s crowded narrow two-lane National Highway is truly a hair-raising adventure. I observed none of the road-rage that is so common in the U.S., even though the highway pavement is shared by pedestrians – yes, I said pedestrians - bicyclists, human powered and motorized pedicabs, cars, minibuses, big buses and 18-wheelers. The operator of a non-motorized pedicab has to get off his bike seat, get behind the vehicle, and push it up a long hill as the traffic piles up behind him.
Bert Degenhardt’s wedding was great. Some of you know that I took four containership cruises several years ago. Bert is from Rostock, a German city on the Baltic Sea coast, and was the Captain of the Libra Santos on which I took three long voyages down and back up the eastern coast of South American. We became close friends. Since he retired, Bert has spent the winters on Cebu. Jingjing, his bride, is a beautiful young Filipino woman.
In closing, let me offer my apologies to Jay Wall, Bob Walsh, Trey, Jeff, Greg, and Dorina for using you good people in this spoof without your permission. I must confess that this old geezer would love to make love to Dorina, that beautiful Australian human rights activist. Well, that’s what old geezers do - dream and fantasize. And eventually our Viagra propped-up dicks will end up in a honey bucket.
Finally, it sure was fun making fun of myself.
BarkGrowlBite | November 11, 2014
The time is at hand for me to fess up. Yes, it’s all been a hoax. I hope all of you enjoyed my spoof. I wanted to have a little fun and see if I could fool any of you into believing my tale of woe.
For any of you who might have believed it, I will say that my tale may not be all that farfetched. The third world is far different from the Western World and something like this could conceivably happen to some poor schmuck. After all, there are assholes like Justin Arschloch around who will take their frustrations out on you and, as the Obama administration has shown, there are government officials who will screw opponents of the President. [‘Arschloch’ is German for ‘asshole’]
Actually I had a great three weeks in the Philippines. The Filipinos are very friendly. The few cops I saw were heavily armed with assault rifles or shotguns, but they seemed to be courteous to everyone.
Traveling on Cebu’s crowded narrow two-lane National Highway is truly a hair-raising adventure. I observed none of the road-rage that is so common in the U.S., even though the highway pavement is shared by pedestrians – yes, I said pedestrians - bicyclists, human powered and motorized pedicabs, cars, minibuses, big buses and 18-wheelers. The operator of a non-motorized pedicab has to get off his bike seat, get behind the vehicle, and push it up a long hill as the traffic piles up behind him.
Bert Degenhardt’s wedding was great. Some of you know that I took four containership cruises several years ago. Bert is from Rostock, a German city on the Baltic Sea coast, and was the Captain of the Libra Santos on which I took three long voyages down and back up the eastern coast of South American. We became close friends. Since he retired, Bert has spent the winters on Cebu. Jingjing, his bride, is a beautiful young Filipino woman.
In closing, let me offer my apologies to Jay Wall, Bob Walsh, Trey, Jeff, Greg, and Dorina for using you good people in this spoof without your permission. I must confess that this old geezer would love to make love to Dorina, that beautiful Australian human rights activist. Well, that’s what old geezers do - dream and fantasize. And eventually our Viagra propped-up dicks will end up in a honey bucket.
Finally, it sure was fun making fun of myself.
Monday, November 10, 2014
SOS CALL FROM THE PHILIPPINES (UPDATE)
Busted for money laundering and put on the No Fly List
BarkGrowlBite | November 10, 2014
[Sent from my lawyer’s office computer]
Mr. Ling, my lawyer, informs me that he received a number of responses to my SOS call for help, none of which were actually helpful.
The first to respond was PACOVILLA reader ‘turds and 10-15s’ who can be counted on to defend all correctional officers, both the good and the bad. ‘turds and 10-15s’ wrote: Ha ha, fuck you Howie! You should have been locked up long ago. I dare you to take your cheap shots at your Filipino COs like you’ve done to California’s COs. Ha ha, I dare you! Yeah, remember when you told me to go soak my head in a tub of turds? Well now, you can soak your head in that honey bucket, ha ha ha ha!
My son wrote: Tough shit, dad!. I warned you not to put that pouch on. I did contact the administrative aides of Senator John Cornyn and Congressman Ted Poe. Both called me back to say DHS refuses to remove you from the No Fly List because you’ve been badmouthing President Obama on your blogs. DHS told them you should contact that Obama hater Binjamin Netanyahu, and maybe he’ll send an Israeli plane to take you to his troublemaking Zionist entity.
My Alzheimer-stricken wife wrote: My husband ran off and left me and the children 20 years ago. Now that you’ve found the bastard, keep him!!!
Jay Wall wrote: Howie is a good friend, but to be honest, his elevator does not run all the way to the top. He’s been tilting at windmills on the marijuana issue. I know for a fact that he watches Reefer Madness every night before he goes to bed. Anyone who thinks Reefer Madness should have won the Academy Award, as Howie does, is to be pitied, not placed on the No Fly List.
Mr. Ling told me that Bob Walsh wrote a letter to Homeland Security Secretary Jeh Johnson pleading for him to take me off the No Fly List. Mr. Ling quoted Bob as writing: Please take Howie off the No Fly List so he can come back home. He’s 87 and a WWII veteran who served in the U.S. Army. He is the founder of the Texas Narcotics Officers Association. I’ll stake my life on it, but there is no way Howie is connected to the Sinaloa drug cartel, maybe the Juarez cartel, but not the Sinaloa cartel.
Trey wrote: I called Ross Perot and asked him if he would put together a Black Op team to extract you from the Philippines like he did for some of his employees who were trapped in Iran back in 1978. He said he seemed to recall you from the early TNOA years. Although he would like to help you, he’s sorry, but he’s no longer into that sort of thing. Howie, I wish you had followed my advice not to go to the Philippines. Looks like you’re fucked.
Jeff ‘Paco’ Doyle wrote: Looks like DEA Agent Justin Arschloch solved that problem ‘turds and 10-15s’ called to my attention about your postings causing a severe decline in PACOVILLA readership. Thanks for not following your son’s advice. Here’s wishing that as you remain in the Philippines, the short time you’ve got left on earth will prove to be a positive experience.
Dorina Lisson must have really gotten pissed off because I fantasized that I was making love to her when I had my moment with Leona. Dorina wrote: Making love to a horny transvestite while pretending that the she-man was me … how revolting, how utterly disgusting. That’s a capital offense. Although I’ve dedicated my life to opposing the death penalty, I’d make an exception in this instance. That degenerate old filthy swine … I hope someone puts the malocchio on Howie as he’s giving himself a hand-job so that his Viagra propped-up dick falls off into that honey bucket.
I knew I could count on Greg ‘Gadfly’ Doyle to answer my SOS call for help. Gadfly wrote: Mr. Ling, please tell Howie that when all else seems lost, Jesus still loves him.
So, where do all those emails leave me? I’m stuck in the Philippines because that asshole Arschloch took his frustration out against me over having to do time here on a no fucking good assignment. Mr. Ling is about to max out my credit card and my visa is due to expire. Things are looking bleak and ………. excuse the interruption, but Mr. Ling is telling me my visa expires today and he must take me back to the PNP pen tomorrow. Wait a minute ………. He says he’s fixed me up with a good looking woman for my last night of freedom. Says she’s also a client of his who got out of jail yesterday. Mr. Ling is saying, “As you Americans like to say, she’s hot to trot.” Her name is ….. What’s that again? … Oh holy shit! Her name is Leona.
BarkGrowlBite | November 10, 2014
[Sent from my lawyer’s office computer]
Mr. Ling, my lawyer, informs me that he received a number of responses to my SOS call for help, none of which were actually helpful.
The first to respond was PACOVILLA reader ‘turds and 10-15s’ who can be counted on to defend all correctional officers, both the good and the bad. ‘turds and 10-15s’ wrote: Ha ha, fuck you Howie! You should have been locked up long ago. I dare you to take your cheap shots at your Filipino COs like you’ve done to California’s COs. Ha ha, I dare you! Yeah, remember when you told me to go soak my head in a tub of turds? Well now, you can soak your head in that honey bucket, ha ha ha ha!
My son wrote: Tough shit, dad!. I warned you not to put that pouch on. I did contact the administrative aides of Senator John Cornyn and Congressman Ted Poe. Both called me back to say DHS refuses to remove you from the No Fly List because you’ve been badmouthing President Obama on your blogs. DHS told them you should contact that Obama hater Binjamin Netanyahu, and maybe he’ll send an Israeli plane to take you to his troublemaking Zionist entity.
My Alzheimer-stricken wife wrote: My husband ran off and left me and the children 20 years ago. Now that you’ve found the bastard, keep him!!!
Jay Wall wrote: Howie is a good friend, but to be honest, his elevator does not run all the way to the top. He’s been tilting at windmills on the marijuana issue. I know for a fact that he watches Reefer Madness every night before he goes to bed. Anyone who thinks Reefer Madness should have won the Academy Award, as Howie does, is to be pitied, not placed on the No Fly List.
Mr. Ling told me that Bob Walsh wrote a letter to Homeland Security Secretary Jeh Johnson pleading for him to take me off the No Fly List. Mr. Ling quoted Bob as writing: Please take Howie off the No Fly List so he can come back home. He’s 87 and a WWII veteran who served in the U.S. Army. He is the founder of the Texas Narcotics Officers Association. I’ll stake my life on it, but there is no way Howie is connected to the Sinaloa drug cartel, maybe the Juarez cartel, but not the Sinaloa cartel.
Trey wrote: I called Ross Perot and asked him if he would put together a Black Op team to extract you from the Philippines like he did for some of his employees who were trapped in Iran back in 1978. He said he seemed to recall you from the early TNOA years. Although he would like to help you, he’s sorry, but he’s no longer into that sort of thing. Howie, I wish you had followed my advice not to go to the Philippines. Looks like you’re fucked.
Jeff ‘Paco’ Doyle wrote: Looks like DEA Agent Justin Arschloch solved that problem ‘turds and 10-15s’ called to my attention about your postings causing a severe decline in PACOVILLA readership. Thanks for not following your son’s advice. Here’s wishing that as you remain in the Philippines, the short time you’ve got left on earth will prove to be a positive experience.
Dorina Lisson must have really gotten pissed off because I fantasized that I was making love to her when I had my moment with Leona. Dorina wrote: Making love to a horny transvestite while pretending that the she-man was me … how revolting, how utterly disgusting. That’s a capital offense. Although I’ve dedicated my life to opposing the death penalty, I’d make an exception in this instance. That degenerate old filthy swine … I hope someone puts the malocchio on Howie as he’s giving himself a hand-job so that his Viagra propped-up dick falls off into that honey bucket.
I knew I could count on Greg ‘Gadfly’ Doyle to answer my SOS call for help. Gadfly wrote: Mr. Ling, please tell Howie that when all else seems lost, Jesus still loves him.
So, where do all those emails leave me? I’m stuck in the Philippines because that asshole Arschloch took his frustration out against me over having to do time here on a no fucking good assignment. Mr. Ling is about to max out my credit card and my visa is due to expire. Things are looking bleak and ………. excuse the interruption, but Mr. Ling is telling me my visa expires today and he must take me back to the PNP pen tomorrow. Wait a minute ………. He says he’s fixed me up with a good looking woman for my last night of freedom. Says she’s also a client of his who got out of jail yesterday. Mr. Ling is saying, “As you Americans like to say, she’s hot to trot.” Her name is ….. What’s that again? … Oh holy shit! Her name is Leona.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
SOS CALL FROM THE PHILIPPINES
Busted for money laundering and put on the No Fly List
BarkGrowlBite | November 8, 2014
[Sent from my lawyer’s office computer]
What was going to be a great trip to attend a wedding has turned into a nightmare and lefty me up shit creek without a paddle in the Philippines. I’ve spent time in a Cebu prison and can’t return to the U.S. because some DEA asshole has put me on the No Fly List. This is an SOS call for help.
You might say that my troubles began during the early 1990s when a bunch of Italian tourists began scamming banks in third world countries by cashing in their American Express Travelers Checks, then rushing to the nearest telephone to report the checks stolen. American Express then would immediately cancel the checks, leaving the banks holding a pile of worthless paper. And by the next day, the Italian scam artists would have a new batch of checks to replace the ‘stolen’ checks, leaving them free to pull the same stunt at the next bank and so on. That forced me to carry large sums of cash on me whenever I was in South America or Asia because banks there refused to honor any more travelers checks.
Which brings me to my present predicament. I left for the Philippines on October 19 to attend the wedding of a close friend. I hid $1,000 in 20s, 10s, 5s and ones in a special money pouch that you can tie around your waist and conceal under your trousers. My son said, “Dad, you’re making a mistake. The airport security people ager going to pull you out if they notice that bulge under your pants.” I brushed him off, telling him, “Nawh, that’s not going to happen.” In fact, I breezed through the TSA checkpoint at Houston’s George Bush Intercontinental Airport as well as at the security checkpoint in Seoul Korea’s airport.
But when I got to Cebu, disaster struck. As I was passing through the customs and immigration checkpoint, I was pulled aside and taken to a small interrogation room where one of three customs officials touched the bulge on my belly and asked, “You carry cocaine?” I replied, “You gotta be kidding.” He wasn’t kidding because – whack – he slapped me across the face. They made me drop my pants, took the pouch, and after opening it one of them exclaimed, “Ah ha, you laundering money for Sinaloa Drug Cartel. You under arrest!.” Before I could say anything – whack – another slap in the face.
I was handcuffed with my hands behind me. They placed a leash around my neck and one around the handcuffs. Then I was led through the airport in my undershorts, with one officer leading me by the leash around the neck while another officer trailed behind holding onto the leash tied around the cuffs. Everyone in the airport was looking at me. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. They drove me to the Philippine National Police prison in Cebu City. I gagged from the stench as soon as I set foot on the prison grounds. I was thrown in a cell with three other inmates. More about that later.
For three days I was interrogated about my connections to the Sinaloa cartel. My pleas that $1,000 could hardly be considered Sinaloa drug money were ignored. Finally I was allowed to contact the American Consulate in Cebu City. Three days later, Elizabeth Fairweather, a consulate official showed up with some guy she introduced as Justin Arschloch, a DEA agent assigned to the U.S. Embassy in Manila. Man, was I in for a surprise.
Fairweather said it would go a lot easier if I just went ahead and confessed to money laundering and gave up my Sinaloa cartel contacts. I said, “Lady, you’re crazy,” and –whack- Arschloch slapped me across the face. I turned to the lady and said, “Hey did you see that? He hit me.” She said she did not see anything and the DEA asshole said, “Nobody hit you, you’re imagining things … you been smoking dope?” After several hours of trying to convince them that $1,000 could not be considered drug cartel money, Fairweather said she would have a lawyer contact me.
It was back to my cell which made America’s worst prisons look like Club Med by comparison. I would estimate the concrete cell was about 12x20 and had only one common wooden bunk with no mattress or bedding. In one corner there was a bucket for me and my three cellies to pee and shit in. There was no toilet paper.
We got two meals a day, a bowl of rice in the morning and one in the evening which also contained a fish head. Those bulging eyes also made me gag. I gave the fish head to my cellmates. I noticed the rice was infested with weevils. My cellmates said I should look at them as fresh meat. Each day a plastic container was filled with water for us to drink. Rice, fish heads and water seems to be standard prison fare. I was told that as a special Christmas treat, they serve pork in place of the fish heads.
I think the cell temperature easily reached 110 degrees. Where in the hell are Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch? Those two do-gooder organizations have long complained that Texas prisons are inhumane because during the summer months the cell temperatures exceed 85 degrees.
Friday was exercise day. All inmates were taken to the prison yard and forced to participate in calisthenics led by one of the guards. Saturday was shower and laundry day. Everybody showered with their clothes on. Sunday was Blessing Day. Some poor schmuck comes around every Sunday morning to empty the ‘honey bucket.’ Catholic priests show up to bless everyone. The priests also provided us with an additional fish head for the Sunday evening meal.
Now about my three cellmates. Surprisingly one of them was a woman. She was rather good looking and her skintight mini dress accentuated the positive, if you get my drift. The two guys – I don’t now what they’re in for – kept asking me if I could get them a job working for the Sinaloa cartel. The gal – Leona was her name – kept asking me when we were going to make love. “I’m hot for long noses,” she said. (‘Long noses’ is a Filipino term for whites.)
At night, Leona would snuggle up to me on the bunk and nibble on my ear. After a week of that, I finally succumbed to her advances. Throwing caution about STD to the winds, I rolled over and we passionately kissed one another. I began to fantasize that I was making love to my friend Dorina Lisson, the beautiful Australian campaigner against the death penalty. To the applause of the two guys, I spread Leona’s legs apart and reached under that tight fitting dress … what the fuck! It was the wrong plumbing. Leona was not a she. She was a he. Now I know why they put Leona in the same cell with us.
Finally some Chinese guy shows up. He’s the lawyer that bitch Fairweather got hold of for me. He gave me his card. He listed his name as ‘Din Ga Ling, Esquire.’ Underneath it said, “A Totally Honest Lawyer In A Totally Corrupt System.” He asked if I had any money for a lawyer. I told him they took my $1,000 but that I should have $108 in my wallet. He left and returned to tell me I only had $28 in my wallet. He said I was lucky they didn’t take my credit card which he would use to pay for his services.
On October 30, the day of my friend’s wedding, he returned to inform me he would get me out on bail later that day. By the time I got out, the wedding was over and the newlyweds were on their way to Boracay for a honeymoon. As I retrieved my property, I noticed the officer was wearing a watch that looked very similar to the Raymond Weil watch my wife had given me as a gift. I said, “Sir, this is only $28, I had $108 in this wallet when I got arrested.” Whack – another slap. “You only had $28.” Worst of all, when I reached for my watch, I noticed it was a tinny Goer watch, a cheap Chinese brand. Then I saw that it was my watch he was wearing. “Sir, that is my watch you are wearing.” Whack, whack – two slaps this time. I took the Goer watch.
Mr. Din Ga Ling put me up at Hotel Quickie, a hotel that catered to streetwalkers and their johns. He gave me some Philippine pesos so I would be able to eat. A couple of days later he told me I was free to go back to the U.S. He had pled me guilty to money laundering and paid my $5,000 fine. At this point I just wanted to get out of the Philippines. My return flight was scheduled for tonight, so I rushed over to the Korea Air counter for my boarding passes. That’s when I got more bad news, really bad news. The agent told me, “So sorry sir, but this ticket is no longer any good, DEA has put you on No Fly List.
Now, I’m stuck in the Philippines. I’m back in the Quickie. My credit card is about maxed out and my visa is about to expire. I cannot get on a plane because that asshole Arschloch had me put on the No Fly List. SOS, I need help. My lawyer’s email address is dingaling@yahoo.com. Please contact your congressman and your two U.S. senators and ask them to get me off that damn No Fly List.
BarkGrowlBite | November 8, 2014
[Sent from my lawyer’s office computer]
What was going to be a great trip to attend a wedding has turned into a nightmare and lefty me up shit creek without a paddle in the Philippines. I’ve spent time in a Cebu prison and can’t return to the U.S. because some DEA asshole has put me on the No Fly List. This is an SOS call for help.
You might say that my troubles began during the early 1990s when a bunch of Italian tourists began scamming banks in third world countries by cashing in their American Express Travelers Checks, then rushing to the nearest telephone to report the checks stolen. American Express then would immediately cancel the checks, leaving the banks holding a pile of worthless paper. And by the next day, the Italian scam artists would have a new batch of checks to replace the ‘stolen’ checks, leaving them free to pull the same stunt at the next bank and so on. That forced me to carry large sums of cash on me whenever I was in South America or Asia because banks there refused to honor any more travelers checks.
Which brings me to my present predicament. I left for the Philippines on October 19 to attend the wedding of a close friend. I hid $1,000 in 20s, 10s, 5s and ones in a special money pouch that you can tie around your waist and conceal under your trousers. My son said, “Dad, you’re making a mistake. The airport security people ager going to pull you out if they notice that bulge under your pants.” I brushed him off, telling him, “Nawh, that’s not going to happen.” In fact, I breezed through the TSA checkpoint at Houston’s George Bush Intercontinental Airport as well as at the security checkpoint in Seoul Korea’s airport.
But when I got to Cebu, disaster struck. As I was passing through the customs and immigration checkpoint, I was pulled aside and taken to a small interrogation room where one of three customs officials touched the bulge on my belly and asked, “You carry cocaine?” I replied, “You gotta be kidding.” He wasn’t kidding because – whack – he slapped me across the face. They made me drop my pants, took the pouch, and after opening it one of them exclaimed, “Ah ha, you laundering money for Sinaloa Drug Cartel. You under arrest!.” Before I could say anything – whack – another slap in the face.
I was handcuffed with my hands behind me. They placed a leash around my neck and one around the handcuffs. Then I was led through the airport in my undershorts, with one officer leading me by the leash around the neck while another officer trailed behind holding onto the leash tied around the cuffs. Everyone in the airport was looking at me. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. They drove me to the Philippine National Police prison in Cebu City. I gagged from the stench as soon as I set foot on the prison grounds. I was thrown in a cell with three other inmates. More about that later.
For three days I was interrogated about my connections to the Sinaloa cartel. My pleas that $1,000 could hardly be considered Sinaloa drug money were ignored. Finally I was allowed to contact the American Consulate in Cebu City. Three days later, Elizabeth Fairweather, a consulate official showed up with some guy she introduced as Justin Arschloch, a DEA agent assigned to the U.S. Embassy in Manila. Man, was I in for a surprise.
Fairweather said it would go a lot easier if I just went ahead and confessed to money laundering and gave up my Sinaloa cartel contacts. I said, “Lady, you’re crazy,” and –whack- Arschloch slapped me across the face. I turned to the lady and said, “Hey did you see that? He hit me.” She said she did not see anything and the DEA asshole said, “Nobody hit you, you’re imagining things … you been smoking dope?” After several hours of trying to convince them that $1,000 could not be considered drug cartel money, Fairweather said she would have a lawyer contact me.
It was back to my cell which made America’s worst prisons look like Club Med by comparison. I would estimate the concrete cell was about 12x20 and had only one common wooden bunk with no mattress or bedding. In one corner there was a bucket for me and my three cellies to pee and shit in. There was no toilet paper.
We got two meals a day, a bowl of rice in the morning and one in the evening which also contained a fish head. Those bulging eyes also made me gag. I gave the fish head to my cellmates. I noticed the rice was infested with weevils. My cellmates said I should look at them as fresh meat. Each day a plastic container was filled with water for us to drink. Rice, fish heads and water seems to be standard prison fare. I was told that as a special Christmas treat, they serve pork in place of the fish heads.
I think the cell temperature easily reached 110 degrees. Where in the hell are Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch? Those two do-gooder organizations have long complained that Texas prisons are inhumane because during the summer months the cell temperatures exceed 85 degrees.
Friday was exercise day. All inmates were taken to the prison yard and forced to participate in calisthenics led by one of the guards. Saturday was shower and laundry day. Everybody showered with their clothes on. Sunday was Blessing Day. Some poor schmuck comes around every Sunday morning to empty the ‘honey bucket.’ Catholic priests show up to bless everyone. The priests also provided us with an additional fish head for the Sunday evening meal.
Now about my three cellmates. Surprisingly one of them was a woman. She was rather good looking and her skintight mini dress accentuated the positive, if you get my drift. The two guys – I don’t now what they’re in for – kept asking me if I could get them a job working for the Sinaloa cartel. The gal – Leona was her name – kept asking me when we were going to make love. “I’m hot for long noses,” she said. (‘Long noses’ is a Filipino term for whites.)
At night, Leona would snuggle up to me on the bunk and nibble on my ear. After a week of that, I finally succumbed to her advances. Throwing caution about STD to the winds, I rolled over and we passionately kissed one another. I began to fantasize that I was making love to my friend Dorina Lisson, the beautiful Australian campaigner against the death penalty. To the applause of the two guys, I spread Leona’s legs apart and reached under that tight fitting dress … what the fuck! It was the wrong plumbing. Leona was not a she. She was a he. Now I know why they put Leona in the same cell with us.
Finally some Chinese guy shows up. He’s the lawyer that bitch Fairweather got hold of for me. He gave me his card. He listed his name as ‘Din Ga Ling, Esquire.’ Underneath it said, “A Totally Honest Lawyer In A Totally Corrupt System.” He asked if I had any money for a lawyer. I told him they took my $1,000 but that I should have $108 in my wallet. He left and returned to tell me I only had $28 in my wallet. He said I was lucky they didn’t take my credit card which he would use to pay for his services.
On October 30, the day of my friend’s wedding, he returned to inform me he would get me out on bail later that day. By the time I got out, the wedding was over and the newlyweds were on their way to Boracay for a honeymoon. As I retrieved my property, I noticed the officer was wearing a watch that looked very similar to the Raymond Weil watch my wife had given me as a gift. I said, “Sir, this is only $28, I had $108 in this wallet when I got arrested.” Whack – another slap. “You only had $28.” Worst of all, when I reached for my watch, I noticed it was a tinny Goer watch, a cheap Chinese brand. Then I saw that it was my watch he was wearing. “Sir, that is my watch you are wearing.” Whack, whack – two slaps this time. I took the Goer watch.
Mr. Din Ga Ling put me up at Hotel Quickie, a hotel that catered to streetwalkers and their johns. He gave me some Philippine pesos so I would be able to eat. A couple of days later he told me I was free to go back to the U.S. He had pled me guilty to money laundering and paid my $5,000 fine. At this point I just wanted to get out of the Philippines. My return flight was scheduled for tonight, so I rushed over to the Korea Air counter for my boarding passes. That’s when I got more bad news, really bad news. The agent told me, “So sorry sir, but this ticket is no longer any good, DEA has put you on No Fly List.
Now, I’m stuck in the Philippines. I’m back in the Quickie. My credit card is about maxed out and my visa is about to expire. I cannot get on a plane because that asshole Arschloch had me put on the No Fly List. SOS, I need help. My lawyer’s email address is dingaling@yahoo.com. Please contact your congressman and your two U.S. senators and ask them to get me off that damn No Fly List.
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