Paree!

Paris gave me everything I needed in the old days.

Money, respect, women and a lot of power. PARIS was the hub of the Universe for me those days. NEVER a bored day. Whatever I wanted I got. If there wasn't what I wanted I could have it made.

Paris gave me an Al Capone like atmosphere I thrived in. If I wanted to sleep for days nobody bugged me, if I wanted to paint the city red I could go to extremes and NEVER got stopped. Mysterious and rotten to the core, Paris always gave me a boost and a home when I was in pain or in dire straights.

From Paris I could drive, take a train or a plane anywhere I felt like. I'd go for a weekend for cigars and booze in Amsterdam; Getting super-hyper in the 24 / 7 bars of Antwerp and bang a few ballet dancers from the National Ballet. I'd drive further north into Germany and get laid in Hamburg St. Paulis red light district's by the belly dancers from Lebanon and Turkey. Still driving north, I'd go up into up to Flensburg on the border with Denmark and get laid or drunk with the military women there. After that I'd ride the f$%king BMW or the Checy Caprice through the autobahn at 250 km per hour, content on puffing a good cigar or hauling a dumb hitching bitch. I'd stop by Darmstat or Giessen in the north suburbs of Frankfurt and stay with the Hell's Angels or the anarchists ex-Badder Meinhoff faction members who were dirt rich from PLO and Ghadafi gold. I used to march with them in Berlin's Zoo Station area throwing cobble stones at the polizei VWs and Mercedes trucks and then we'd ride the subway through East German shut down semi dark stations, dead drunk up and down sticking our arses or tits ( them anarchist bitches had BIG boobs ) against the windows at the poor VOPOS guarding the desert stations.

Then it was back to Paris to guide Horny tours and make more money hauling gold to Zurich for Jap Heavy Duty companies. I'd drive down to Orange stopping at Le Puy to meet the Black Widow and get into a weirder world of magic Adams Family like character and Manor after which I'd Detox in Vichy for a week on stinking volcano sulphur water fountains many times a day, eating very little. Those days I ate a lot of raw oysters and was always scared of Hepatitis.

Keep on riding South into Andorra. Checking the latest gadgets from JVC portable TV and Radio Cassette players, I carried them to Barcelona tax free and made a pile selling them to the Arco del Teatro whores and pimps; the latest weapons that Andorra was a haven . I'd get the news, check my dead mail box in the hotel of which I also had another one in the Grand Cafe de Opera , Paris.

Barcelona. Here I'd stay at my Grandmothers small place in Mount Tibidabo, leave the car and take the trams and subways to laze out in Plaza Catalunya on a folding chair rented for 5 pesetas a day. Observing the fauna and the walk the Ramblas, I'd dine at Los Caracoles, get drunk in the Mesons and end up in a Plaza Real Hotel with a musky Swede, Kraut or Brit c£$t and laze it out f$%king, eating and f£$king.

Bored with it all ? Borrow Seat 127 from King Rat the pimp and drive to Sitges. In those days it was a semi-quiet avant guard village where you could swim, eat buttered giant sole with lemon and parsley while sipping drink dry white wine. A siesta by the hotel pool keeping one eye open for pussy galore Scandinavian OLs.

BORED again? Money and time not the issue? Get in the Seat and drive along the coast to Valencia suburbs to stay at my family apartment in Calpe. Same routine, different fauna and then if still in it, ride through the mountain road to Granada.

King Rat's Seat was a souped up jalopy coupe - manual gears of course. Great to drive through the night swerving on those 360 curves on the road to Guadix, Granada like a mad man. Eight track bulky cassettes blaring with Eagles or Demis Roussos and flamenco. I had to pay for brand new Michelin tires when I arrived in Malaga's Marbella after the mountain road and Sierra Nevada bout racing pin curves. Money was not the issue every time I did that; Fun was.

Marbella had a Swedish nymphomaniac living there in her rich Lebanese sugar-daddy villa and money to burn. I was always welcome. Now it is Arab controlled and there are no more Scandinavian horny women. I went there in 2002 and was disappointed. The Nynph had gone and although the Villa behind Hotel Africa still existed, the fat Glock totting Arab guard told me not to ring the bell by instinct.

If time was not an issue, we'd hop into her shark fin tail Caddy and drive to Algeciras to take the ferry into Morocco's Ceuta, an ex-Portuguese Enclave and like Andorra, a tax free haven. Then across border into Morocco per se and all the way to Fez, staying with an ex-FFL supplier and snitch big place.

Back to Marbella and into Seat 127 with brand new oil and tyres, I'd drive throughout night to Calpe along the coast, rest and then drive again into Barcelona past Tarragona the Roman town getting into the mountain area to visit the Frexnet Caves and get free booze and buy a half a dozen cases of the bubbly. Time to return the car back to a by now anxious King Rat with ten one thousand Peseta Green bills and a couple of cases of good limited edition Frexnet Champagne as a gift after which it was back to mount TIBIDABO's peaceful Joaquina's place.

There I'd laze it out for a couple of days while making calls to Paris about next incoming Jap invasion and check on the hot news with the FFL guys. It was a refreshing drive into Perpignan, France, ( avoiding Dali's joint like the plague or I would lose my resolution to return to Paree), up to Arles where I'd stay at the FFL forte for old times sake. Onwards into ORANGE, avoiding St. Tropez and Marseilles like the plague or again I wouldn't make it to Paris that soon ...

Temptation.

Onto the highway all the way to Barbizon to eat at friend's restaurant, listen to the gossip and to sort of reset the body clock and mind. And then, Paree at sunset along the Seine into Concorde Square. How I loved that sunset, the traffic and the messy, disorganized city.

Finally, into the Crillon Hotel for news on the Swiss mule business coming next, the Inter Continental for more gossip and the Rue de Saint Anne for the gossip on off-the-boat Yakuza Cowboys in town fresh from the archipelago. Osaka Ramen's for meeting the new Fugitives. I would then present my " KOMATA KOTO AREBA, OIRA NI DENWA SHITTE KUDASAI " ( when in deep shit call me sort of JINGI 仁義 ) and go back to either my Grandmothers place near Printemps or the Maisons Laffite across the Seine and Sartroville to a hide out - a big manor owned by a rich guy, gun smuggler, etc., who let me use all year round along with his cars. All I had to do was keep the place alive and in shipshape.

Voila mon ami. La Raison why Paris and forever Paris till I croak in that city IF I am lucky of course.

PARIS was and IS the hub of my fucked up life.

Not as much fun now because the fauna is different but I still can find old holes to blow my steam up if needed to.

FIN

Something to bray about.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/sep/03/portugal-paedophile-ring

http://www.euronews.net/2010/09/03/six-year-sex-abuse-trial-in-portugal-set-to-end/

GOOD NEWS!

BUT only a tinny bunch of these maggots were indicted.

THEIR lawyers of course, will appeal. Money is no problem for them since the Catholic Church , Military , Politicos and the high Echelon clientele doesn't want their names divulged .

In my 'democratic' country the LAW is very clear:

YOU ARE INNOCENT TILL PROVEN PENNILESS !!!

And some of these 'victims' were over 14 and somehow got paid for their blow jobs and butt f$%&king... Not to mention their relatives no mater how distant they might have been . In Japan the whole farce is called ENJOKOSAI . Before, the slutty TWATS walked up and down Center Street , Shibuya and gave blow jobs etc to horny elder Satyrs in Karaoke joints , now it's all much organized and the websites reek with these TWATS wares . Some even aren't the high school GARU they pretend but most probably their mothers in their daughters uniform .

What had happened in the Catholic controlled Casa Pia and my own school Saint Joseph paedo Jesuit priests in the 60's ?!

I believed in the power of the stiletto and could throw it many meters onto a tree. The short axe I had too . I used the stiletto to slice fruit, bread, salami etc with ease and often did it during recreation time in that school, always smirking at the known paedos passing by or sitting in the dinning hall. The short ax I cracked nuts with the numb side , usually on the stone stairs nearest to chamber where the priests rested . The sound of the nuts cracking could drive some of them nuts . But not a word was said. They knew I knew and that kept them at bay.

Although I was often punished for misbehaviour in public, none of those weirdos EVER tried to touch me when I was in the dormitory pretending to be asleep or in the showers.

Incredible what a good knife and axe thrower can do to cure paedos or keep them at bay.

I wore the axe in the open when yet another kid in TURMA B ( group B ) - the trouble maker group - disappeared ( was transferred? ) for ever or was hospitalized for 'falling ' off the stairs. Or maybe he accidentally hurt himself during classes such as wood carving or electrical training where I was a member or even the printing ( I was there too ) ...

There are a few 'I should have dones' left in my life and as I am a strong believer of fire as a cleanser, I will ALWAYS regret I didn't shut them paedos in the Sacristy behind the church chain lock the doors and burn them all to a f$%king crisp . IF I have had done that I would have got away with the Cuckoo card ( mentally insane I.D. similar to the one the Japanese cannibal that ate the Dutch plump student " For love " in Paris 30 odd years ago carries ) after being locked up for a few years in the infamous JULIO DE MATOS Institute for the insane which was another tool of the PIDE and Catholic Church to inspire terror into the hearts of the unbelievers ...

BUT that will be another story wanna bet ?

http://www.hjmatos.min-saude.pt/

I just hadn't the guts I guess and am paying the price now; PTSD might be called as well.

I ended up in that institute once every 6 months a year for an Electroencephalography and a shadow and LEGO like toys I.Q. crappy routine test that always ended up with the conclusion that I wasn't normal in the knocker and was prescribed Valium and other s$%t that of course I never took. I could have told them that I wasn't right in the knocker and that was the only armor I had to survive . Crazy like a fox in a manner of speech I guess .

Those days I was a regular in that place. They made me enter the small door in the picture above and walked me for more than 40 minutes through a maze of corridors and up and down stairs of insanity.

I suspect Father Alvaro , the sadist priest in collaboration with my cowardly old man Manuel planned it all to terrify me into submission . Wishful thinking .

It did scare me at first but every corner and window gave me hints of my whereabouts and so did certain screams coming from the criminally and hopeless insane floor. The guardian ever so slowly took me as close as possible to the barred gates. I learned to nickname everything and everybody in that place so as not to take them seriously. Every scream and insane smile that I saw through the bars weren't that scary anymore after half a dozen visits . Although the Carmelita nun lugging behind us did the sign of the cross every time somebody screamed . Dumb old c$%t .

Reminds me of the bell clanking Lepra Pilgrims long line marching towards Fatima from Lourdes , France every May . They sent scouts in advance to warn the Mayor of their imminent march thru the town and to get permission to pitch a long tent to rest by the river, get food and drink from our village since we are in the main crossroads from Salamanca, Spain as it has been done for ages. My dear father and other fathers too used to terrify us by saying that since we haven't been good boys last year they would give us to the Leprosos as a punishment and that the Leprosos would eat us raw blah , blah ... Bogeyman at it's best.

Sure it sounded terrifying the Leprosos did look terrifying and many kids begged not to be thrown at the Leprosos mercy promising to be good. I got fed up one day at that crap, grabbed my old army triangular back pack, filled it up it with clothing, filched as much money as I could find in the house and waited by the Pelorinho square ( a square used for whipping or torturing the unbelievers and adulterers in public ) sat by the stone pole and waited for the Leprosos to come by to take me away.

Manuel run up to me asked what was I doing? I just told him I'd rather go with the Leprosos than be in the same house as him. Goodbye old man. Many of the villagers for years after that told of my public bout in front of the 47th descendent of the Ferreira Clan and leader and how for the next three or four years I continued to do just that: Waited patiently by the square ready to go with the Leprosos RATHER than being with my family. Tavernas were full of sneers and laughter and some fed me watered ginjinha, a cherry alcoholic beverage as a reward for teaching the old despotic Ferreira a lesson. Good old days ...

Nicknaming people and things or actions really kept me in mental shape throughout the years and even now I practice that art.

Back to the Cuckoo's nest. AFTER three or four hours of waiting the main nut professor came in and he and his assistants would go through the same routine. They always bitched about my hair being too long , glue the f%^king Encephalographic bits to my skull . The priests or my father had put me under the knife, the day before . All part of the routine as I mentioned.

"SHUT your eyes. OPEN your eyes!" This crap made always fall asleep because I was tired from the 'Walk' with no food, no drink and no peeing pattern. THE Nutty Professor stank of cheap leaf tobacco that he chain smoked and the other two minions were dumb silent Igor like characters although they weren't hunchbacked. A whole day in that place to end up being declared incurably crazy. Back to St. Joseph and be greeted with sneers and comments such as"O maluco ta de Volta" (the fruitcake is back).

It's a long story and as The Fall approaches, so do my memories of times gone by.

THESE paedos aren't the ones that should be on trial . Nor are most of the 'victims' . The REAL victims per se are the ones like I that were helpless and cowardly stood by while s%$t was happening right in front of our eyes . The Lord, if He ever existed, was on a vacation when we needed Him the most. The Devil was always ever present giving us all His sales pitch;

" ...et dixit illi haec tibi omnia dabo si cadenas adoraveris me " - " And saith onto him , All these things will I give thee , if thou will fall down and worship me " ( Mathew 4:9 )

" ... et ait ei tibi dabo potestatem hanc universam et gloriam illorum quia mihi tradita sunt et cui volo do illa " - " All this power will I give thee, and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me; and to whomsoever I will give it " ( Luke 4:6 )

Busy bugger the Devil was and still is.

The main VICTIM here IS and always will be the TRUTH ! And as usual, as before, in our days, Human race JUST CAN'T TAKE the F$%KING NAKED TRUTH. Thus nobody questions the indictments EXCEPT the paedos lawyers (money talks) nor seeks the REAL TRUTH. Too afraid that they too might be smeared by flying s$%t.

The whole rigmarole has been going on for centuries and it is only in 2010 that a tiny fraction of the crawling maggots were disclosed to, I suspect, cover the REAL MAGGOTS from prying curious eyes no mater how few those eyes are.

The Portuguese Foreign Office ( diplomat ) paedo mentioned in the article a UNESCO ambassador WAS here in Tokyo for a short period DURING the investigation by the JUDITE or Judicial police, hoping that being here it would make the public forget it all and of course, like Alan N. Lamph (70yrs old) the eikaiwa paedo in Fukuoka, never heard of for months after being detained . Guess the Moonies bailed him out, the "diplomat " in question went around under the Diplomatic Corps protection having the time of his miserable life . Japan IS a paedo haven , just as much as it is a scamster's as long as the scumbags aren't poor and seem clean cut. Japanese language appears to have about four thousand words originated from Portuguese lingo. Wouldn't surprised if the J law here used the very same motto: "YOU'RE INNOCENT TILL PROVED PENNILESS" ( anybody knows how to say that in Latin ? ) . So the portuguese "diplomat " went around molesting boys like Johnies Tarento is famous for, to keep is Caralho (dick in portugee ) and habits in shipshape since he knows he ain't gonna be nobodies bitch in the slammer back home. Money talks REAL loud . Practice makes perfect , and our old geezer kept on practicing under the blessings of king Rabbit our Ambassador .

My Embassy is a Babel Tower of thieves and corrupt elite scum and since a portugee was NEVER arrested here in Japan, there is no prototype Iranian like publicity to cause lazy butt kissing Jap cops to investigate that f$%king thieves den. I can't even go and renew my passport because they refused to build a ramp or do something for an handicapped Luso-Iberian to enter the building. I paid them back by refusing to give them my home address or accept delayed copied letters from the Foreign Office to remind us minions that LUSITANIA is our beloved Fatherland. Zieg Heil et all ...

Do remember the portuguese JUSTICE motto just in case you get screwed in the Algarve and in cahoots with the LAW :

' YOU'RE INNOCENT TILL PROVED PENNILESS '

Bring plenty of that just in case ...

Mac and Paypal web scam

Don't say I didn't warn you...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-11065301

Mac ipod death threat

Seriously.

Check out this website and woe is you if you leave your Mac gizmos charging overnight.

http://www.engadget.com/2008/08/19/japan-investigates-exploding-first-generation-ipod-nanos-again/

While you're at it, check this one out as well and see how the world is spying on you:

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/technology/news/article.cfm?c_id=5&objectid=10663728

Keep watching boys and girls and I'll tell you soon all about the latest cover-ups from Mac in Japan.

GUMP again!

Early evening I went to buy some stuff at the KOMBINI and my elbow started to tingle: a sort of floating feeling came to my head. Time to get the camera ready when that happens.

Sure enough, there it was .

A fat woman was texting frantically on her cell phone by the building where the dried out old woman body was found. She had the same features as the dead virago so I waited and watched her.

Along came the guy in a cheap striped polo shirt and they went to the little Tokorozawa number car to pick some papers. Turned out to be envelopes with either gift coupons or cash.

The guy was doing the typical rounds around the neighbors to apologize for the inconvenience caused by the poor virago's death, as Japanese tradition demands and as if it was the poor old woman's fault to have died and dried out for at least three months until yesterday when someone found the body.

The place has rooms for rent and the real estate agent knocked on the first floor door to get the OK from the dead woman since officially she owns the building and one thing led to another...Will ask more about that to the Sakaya old guy when occasionally I happen to find him outside his shop. The 100 yen parking and the small building were placed there a few years back to replace the whole clan old house.

Fat cow and her brother neglected the old woman (their mother) so long as they were getting their share of the benefits from the neglected 100 yen parking lot and shitty fake brick building rentals. The whole affair was hushed up cos if anybody hears that there was a stiff found there after being left to dry and rot and become maggot food, NO Japanese will want to rent a place there or the ghost will come by.

The place is cursed .

Japanese law says the people interested in renting a place where either suicide, murder, natural death OR there is a Yakuza who happens to be living in the building, the real estate agent and landlord HAS to inform the interested parties of the events. Failing to do so, s$%t is suppose to happen. Refunds and apology money are the most common way of apology. Rarely the new tenant will sue them in court. Too ghostly to do so and the bad publicity will ruin the landlord and the neighborhood. that's what I did in a loud voice when decided to purchase the DEN in court. Ended up buying it dirt cheap. Ain't I a bastard? HeHeHe.

The dead don't talk (SHINI KUCHINASHI) the Japanese saying goes. Thus the two fat slobs are going around giving gift coupons to key people to shut them up. Incidentally just about a year ago, a mental patient from the near by asylum ran away and climbed onto the building roof next door and dropped his to death. Yours truly has pics of the cops coming and going that day. As usual.

" SHINI KUCHINASHI " it might be the motto , BUT this one legged Gaijin ain't dead YET , has a big mouth and will blog the neglect case for prosperity. I hope the Virago's ghost appreciates that and torments them fat sh$%s till the day THEY too will croak and go to HELL!!!

F£$king cops too are in on it since all was a hush hush gig and a super-fast recovery of body (I still remember the bones underneath the blue plastic sheet being hauled into the meat wagon).

The CHONAIKAICHO (Neighborhood association big shot) also got a visit from the fat bastard in the stripped Wal-Mart shirt while fat c£$t was texting away 'Yes I take it the mouth' to her loverboy.

Wonder what will happen next.

LOL !!

Shi nin ni Kuchi Nashi 死人に口無し

The Dead don't talk.

In fashion with my GUMPish life, yesterday around 9pm the building next to mine had one of those A la Mode cases. An 85 year old woman croaked sometime last Spring and her mummified body was found by one of her relatives that was wondering why there was no contact from the virago for ages.

The white van is the Meat wagon.

Cops are used to that sort of find it seems cos you can see that there were no flashing lights and everything was casual. The old woman often wandered around the neighbourhood mumbling and owns the small building you see next to the 100 yen parking lot. Demented or not she often said hello to me and watered her plants, swept the pavement and keep the gomi in order. In the summer time she sat on the stairs eating water melon watching the traffic going by waiting for death to take her. I can only guess because I was at same eye level or got different aura she always said Konichiwa or Ohayo to me. I sort of feel sorry I only stuck to the 'Hello' pattern too...

Itabashi has 130 elder people with more than 100 years of age . Makes the ward second in in Tokyo in that case. The old guy I often discuss Bell Crickets with , he has 105 and is as tough as old leather .

Japan officially has 17 people over a 100 years old that 'Disappeared' and the family is still getting their pension money. This is the official number, but in a country with more than 40,000 centenaries I am sure the real number is in double or even triple. For the tax office to allow my disabled miserly pension of 80,000 yen per month and other delights like free gas coupons and free car taxes etc., they checked me so much that the Gestapo pricks would be impressed. Not only that but I get a 'probation officer' monthly visit for one hour with same shitty questions or no 'privileges'. The Care Manager (as they are called) get good money, for visiting me and sending a 'care plan' every month to the Health Ministry goons. I often ask her if they still think my stump, diabetes, kidney malfunction from malpractice, diabetic eyes and general wreck is fake. Am I a lizard man where my limb grows fast and I chop it off AGAIN just to see her stupid moron face every month? Still, Wada the 'probation officer ' is not bad. Tasaka, the previous one, was a liar and a f$%king demented c$%t. I had to get rid of her and drew heavy blood from her to make my point.

These hyenas keep on getting pension money for decades and the f$%king City hall NEVER ever sent someone to shake the old geezers hand and ask if he or she are doing well.

Post Koizumi hangover .

Jap government says :

Go on minions .

Go and f$%k your brains off . Make babes cos Nippon has not enough of them ( ? ) and for each brat that the TWAT wife , concubine , daughter , even granny pops out you gets an allowance so that you can waste it at the local Gook pachinko parlor and get home frustrated , drunk on cheap crappy beer or Chu-Hi and and gobble salty grub thelocal supermarket's Chink grown nasty Veggies and whatever that " great country " disgorges here in the Zippangu archipelago , to beat or get beaten up by wifey regularly and even screw your own daughter for good measure if the mood happens along since incest is looked upon as a " shit happens " accident ...

" If a picture is worth a thousand words " that one says it all . Tired and dried out 30ish TWAT hauling three brats , groceries , while equally dumb 11ish year daughter stands by without even trying to haul mommy's groceries .
To me a slummy nightmare since I got to wait and let couples hauling 6 years old twins , sometimes older , on enormous over priced American / European brand buggies ( the one on the pic is the cheapest I could find in myphoto collection ) holding up train stations elevator traffic when everybody knows that the brats SHOULD walk instead of letting their arses fatten up and bones grow hollow and weaker cos of no exercise , on my wheelchair out in the cold or heat . worse still in dire straights cos I need to take a leak and the wheelchair accessible facilities are far and as often happens , one or more of those brat hauling moms are inside cuddling or even breast feeding their little monsters . They got nowhere else to do that simple and natural action here in EDO at least .

Worst comes to the worst I get a hobo reading his news paper or Manga while sitting and taking a dumb guzzling cheap booze cos the toilet is roomy and got lots of nice gadgets . like a nice wide sink with hot and cold water faucets where the Kojiki ( homeless ) can do their basic laundry and wash their hair .

We all know too that the couple in the pic will end up throwing one of the brats out of the buggy and fill the sit to the brim with shopping bags , alternating one of the brats with the other on the other sit . All these nightmarish actions happen in twos and threes cos them f%&king enormous buggies always come out of hicks vile Saitama /Gumma in convoys . Hub areas like Ikebukuro , Shinjuku and the sewer rat malodorous Shibuya ( most of them brat popping twats are ex-yamamba garu and hubbies , street Pompiki selling sex for all " fashion health " joints met their twatty wives there ) , get jammed on weekends . Every disabled and non-disabled individual worth his / her salt AVOIDSthose areas like the plague on weekends and national holidays ( Japan has almost as many holidays as Italy lately ) . No wonder the Chinks are taking over , they over work their slaves to the brink of Karoshi suicide and cheap labor while Japanese mass produce weak spoiled brats and feed , dress them on Made in China crap .

I hope that one day this madness stops and Japan somehow wakes up to become If Not The number one economy again , at least a more common sense and steadier society .

But I guess it is like waiting for my right limb to grow back .

I'm relieved to know for a fact , that I at least , am NOT

" MADE IN CHINA " . Touch wood .