The Last Days Of My Tower

The days tic by until the scheduled removal of my tower, which I rely on for net access. As of this writing, there remain only 24 short hours to come up with a plan. Deep inside my fortified bunker, cleverly disguised as a Rohedendron bush, my forces are gathering. Only a miracle will prevent this stand off from exploding into the next Ruby Ridge. Outside my bunker the city commissioners are prowling about in preparation for the up coming assault on my precious life line to the outside world. Keeping well out of rifle range they have spent the past few days practicing the destruction of my tower by blowing up trees with rocket launchers, and conducting simulated raids on Rohedendron bushes similar to that under which my bunker lies. In side my bunker, I have amassed the dirty forces of Merced. The castoffs of society gather to me, egar to fight. For this struggle represents more than just a home made receiving tower, this is a fight for the rights of those whom society has deemed un fit. For if my tower is allowed to fall, next could go the shanty towns and crack houses that are a mainstay of homeless life in this town. Further talks are scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, but at this point they are more of a formality, this fight has been brewing for far too long, and all it needed was the spark to set it ablaze. I have at this point resigned my self to fight, as I do not believe that the town leaders will allow them selves to loose face and stand down, time my friends will tell the tale. The following is a brief summary of the last few days leading up to this final battle for homeless justice.

Friday April 22. Spent much of the morning moving supplies and ammo into my bunker, and briefly consulted with my top generals, Jeb of R street. And Jin of Mckee Ave. The meeting was progressing well until Jeb and Jin came to a disagreement on the correct placement of the boiling oil cauldrons to be used in repelling an assault. Jeb insisted that they be placed directly above our own heads, “they’d never expect that” Jin insisted that we should be standing in them so as to have something to duck into should they start shooting at us. The argument between my top generals only escalated until in a blind rage, Jin shoved a live 45 round up Jeb’s nose, then attempted to set it off by throwing wild haymakers.

Saturday April 23. The great hobo king, Smellabad The Wise arrived with his army of vagabonds and no-account’s. After a brief discussion it was decided that the Molotov Cocktails could be put to better use as a cold beverage, than as a fighting weapon. After more drunken debating we also drank the gasoline in the flame throughers. Besides the usual and expected deaths related to drinking pure gasoline, one poor fellow was vaporized after he casually tossed his cigarette down while urinating. The resulting fire took the rest of the night to suppress, and cost us most of our supplies. Investigation of the incident leads me to conclude that smoking and peeing after drinking gasoline, should be regarded as un safe.

Sunday April 24. Spent the day nursing a hangover, and picking through the charred ruins of the bunker complex. After brief consultation with my top guys it was decided that the defense of my tower was in no way affected by last night’s fiasco, and that our strengths still exceeded that of the city planning commissions.

Monday April 25. Last ditch talks with the city board broke down after Jeb, while trying to prove an important point accidentally urinated on the Mayors leg. The enraged mayor declared that “Only a violent and messy conclusion to this conflict would satisfy him at this point” I’m not exactly clear as to his intent, but I do believe he has declared open war as the only option left to us.

Tuesday April 26. So here I am, surrounded by Merceds finest drunks. Facing a tough and determined city force hundreds strong, every man willing to die to defend his own flawed point of view. This may well be my final post. Only tomorrow will tell............How did it ever come to this………dear god have mercy on us all…………..

How To Avoid Offending Bridge Dwellers.

The first step towards not offending bridge dwellers is to not call them bridge dwellers. We hate that. I do, but that’s because I am one, and it is there for acceptable. This is akin to black people being able to use the (N) word two dozen times in one sentence, then turn around and justifiably shoot the first non black who dares to utter it. If you must refer to a bridge dweller, call them Subterranean Habitat Specialists.

Never ask a bridge dweller where he goes if the river floods. Bridge dwellers are generally afraid of open spaces and having to come out from under their bridges during flood season places great strain on them. There for it is a bad idea to remind them of this yearly trauma.

Never call a bridge dweller a bum, hobo, homeless person, or tramp. Bridge dwellers are just that, normal………. semi normal people who find bridge residence to be a matter of preference. There is a great distinction between them and other street persons. Bums live on sidewalks and under bus benches. Hobos live in shanty towns by railroad tracks. Homeless people live in government shelters and Red Cross tents. And Tramps live in small rural parks and down by the banks of rivers. Mixing them up is a sure way to offend someone, and perhaps get ankle bit by an offendee.

Do not stand on a bridge known to be inhabited and throw coins off into the water. This is horribly irritating. All bridge dwellers, after much pacing ultimately go and dive for it. Even if it is only a penny. I can’t explain this behavior, but it is perhaps the thought of that shiny little coin just a waiting there on the river bottom which compels us to go fetch it. Do this enough times, and once the bridge resident has collected all that you have thrown, he will kill you.

And ……NO!!! FOR THE LOVE OF HOLY GOD!!! THE FUCKING TROLL FROM
THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF, DOES NOT LIVE UNDER MY BRIDGE WITH ME YOU FUCKING SNIDE ASS PUNK THINK YOU’RE FUNNY KIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do not ask bridge dwellers questions. They tend to be extremely secretive. Often all a bridge dweller has down in the dark recesses is his little secrets. If while peering under a dark bridge, you hear soft, faint giggling, it is probably that of a bridge dweller, and you should slowly back away.

I am an exception to this rule, and I often allow my self to be interviewed. This is simply because I have not been living under a bridge very long

Only by following these simple steps can you ensure a peaceful co existence with your bridge dwelling Subterranean Habitat Specialists. This is important, for an offended bridge dweller spells trouble. Remember, down in the dark moist grottos of our bridges all we do is think………..and plot…………tee hee………….hee………….

Cad Grublygold Gives You Now,

Ten Reasons Why Bat’s (the kind you maim people with) Are Better Than Babies.

1: Bats are intimidating. Babies are not.

2: Bats can be used to maim someone. Babies, if swung by their ankle can cause a fair amount of pain, but fall short of maiming, and there for should be considered sub par in a street scuffle.

3: Bats don’t pee on you.

4: If left in a locked closet for half a year, bats don’t _ _ _

We regret to inform all readers of this blog, that the content of this post has been deemed un suitable by the internet watch dog group, NOPE. (No Offending People Ever)

Nope. Apologizes to all readers for the inconvenience this has caused, but contends that the intended content of this post was cruel, demeaning to infants, and not in the least bit funny. Implied infanticide is not a matter to be laughed at, it is a matter for the courts. Shame on you Mr. Grublygold!!!!!!!

We instead bring you the poetry of the famous contemporary French author, Renwaux De Bleh.

Oh sun ont ma fass, kees me lah a bootyfull madmozell oft springh.

Brrringh too me bach a buquet oft rrrosses yoo maidens brrest oft a moon.

Oh a lack zat I shhood die zo yong andt whhilt as doz a flahwer undar zee face oft broken love. I die…… forgeet me loov I die……….

Bad News From Merced

Bad news from Merced, the city counsel has given me until April 27^th to remove my hundred foot receiving tower that I built out of clothes hangers and aluminum foil so I can get net access under my bridge. They declared it an eyesore, a hazard, and a public nuisance. To this I say “bosh”!! The town of Merced is an eyesore to it’s self. Late one night I stole a highly endangered Condor from its nest, and attempted to duct tape it to my tower so the city would have no choice but to let it stay. However, the weight of the stupid bird nearly destroyed the tower making the reason for the birds being there moot. Sadly my satellite receiver/ killoray is not nearly ready for launch, so that is not an option. I vow to fight however, my super fortified sniper bunker is, unlike my satellite quite operational. Cleverly disguised as a large rohadendron bush, I command a fearful view of my tower and as I speak, am stockpiling ammo for the inevitable clash.

I’ll be sure to keep you all posted as the deadline approaches.

The Hobo Bartenders Guide

How to party for under ten dollars. The following is a guide for making popular Hobo and homeless drinks. Hobos and Homeless for years have been experts at making highly toxic, and exotically unique drinks. And most important of all these drinks are cheap!! So drink up and enjoy.

The Hobo Bartenders Guide.

Recycle Punch:
All those cans and bottles you collect for cash contain a veritable gold mine of liquor products. Poor all bottles and cans into one big mug and enjoy.

Sex In A Dumpster:
Take a big bottle of the cheapest whisky on the shelf, add one bar of Lava brand soap. (it’s the smelly green one) poor the whisky into an empty unwashed bleach container. Shave the soap in with the whisky and shake thoroly. Serve at room temperature.
(If there is still a bit of bleach in the bottom of the bottle this only enhances the flavor)

The Wiffle Bat In The Genitals:
Poor the brackish water and juice from the bottom of an outside trash can into a black plastic trash bag. Add a bottle of Spanish Fly, and let it sit in the hot sun for one to two hours. Strain into an old MacDonald’s cup and enjoy.

(This drink should not be taken lightly, if properly made it may cause sudden death)

The Widow Maker:
(One of my personal favorites) Poor one gallon of two month old milk into a half empty gas can and let the fun begin.

(I would not recommend smoking around this drink)

The F Word:
Take one six pack of Gila monster beer, (the cheapest beer ever) and dump it into a large pot. Spray one whole can of Pam cooking spray into the mix. Add a bottle of rubbing alcohol and serve chilled.

The Minty Fresh:
Take one bottle Nyquil, poor into medium sized tumbler and add Vodka to taste. Shake like hell before serving, and remember to swoosh it around in your mouth before swallowing.

The Weapon Of Mass Destruction:
Poor one glass of bleach, one glass of pure ammonia, and one glass of chlorine into a large mug. (shaking not recommended) boil and serve steaming hot.

(Chances are the fumes from this drink will kill you long before you get a chance to drink it. But if it does make it to your lips wile they are still attached to a living body, then hold on to your hobo hat because you are in for a real treat!!)

Pink Bats In The Rafters:
Mix Two cups of Drano Liquid Plummer with One scoop of Tide laundry detergent. Add one bottle of cheap tequila, and a pint of cooking brandy. Serve warm for best taste.

(the pack of pink lions you see running towards you across the park is probably due to the potency of the drink. Just to be on the safe side however, you may want to take your clothes off and run out into traffic to confuse them.)

Cad’s Big Sweaty Feet On A Hot Summer Day:
This drink was named after me, and is a must for all trash fire parties.
Toss one glass of tobacco spit, two onions, a bottle of peppermint schnapps, and one nasty old sock into a large blender and set it for puree. Poor into glasses, and warm them in your arm pits before serving.

(The nastier the sock, the better the taste.)

The Great Crested Grass Weasel:
To make this drink you must simply combine all the ingredients in this guide into a huge pot, bury it under fresh compost for two weeks, dig it up and enjoy. Good for large pot lucks and all special occasions.

(To the best of my knowledge making this drink has only been attempted once, and the resulting explosion wiped out half the population of the town of Snelling. Sadly then I can only wonder at the taste or side affects of such an amazing drink, as the one hobo genius who tried it was instantly vaporized upon the drinks contact with his lips, taking with him three square miles of wildlife and vegetation.)

Early One Morning

Early one morning there is a knock on the door to my seedy underworld beneath the Gst bridge.

(Cad) Grumpfullgwahuh? (Girl) Hello….OH jeez sorry I’ll wait till you are dressed! (Cad) Mph, naw I’m dressed. (Girl) Uh ok,….um, are you wearing an opossum as underpants? (Cad) Yeah, my cat pair are in the wash, what do you want? (Girl) I’m doing a survey for the city regarding the homeless problem. (Cad) What problem? (Girl) Well Merced county has the highest unemployment rate in the country and…….ummm….are you playing footsie with me? (Cad) errrrr mabey, does it feel good? (Girl) No, please stop. I need to ask you some questions regarding your homelessness and…. (Cad) I’m not homeless, I live under a bridge. (Girl) Well yes but… (Cad) But what, it’s not good enough for you? Excuse me for fucking breathing lady, oooh tut tut I’m sooo high and mighty because I live in a house, and youuuuu live under a bridge! Don’t make me sic my raccoon on you lady! (Girl) Hey look we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Nancy. (Cad) pleased to meet you Nancy, I’m Lord Snoozewald the Third. (Girl) uh yeah, are you aware sir….(Cad) Lord Snoozewald!!
(Girl) Um ok Lord Snoozewald are you aware that the city provides free alcohol and drug programs aimed at helping those umm…. who might not be in a position to attend otherwise, in the hope that the homeless can be rehabilitated and eventually get jobs? (Cad) What the hell makes you assume that I have any problems huh? What just because I live like this it automatically makes me trash!! Don’t fucking stereotype me bitch. (Girl) Ooookay….. I just couldn’t help noticing that you have a mural on the wall behind you depicting a drunken train dodge incident. (Cad) Yeah, I made it using over a thousand empty schnapps bottles. (Girl) Yeah and then I also noticed that you use a brick of pure black tar heroin as a pillow…… (Cad) Oh…….yeah…..that old thing….errrrr…..
(Girl) Look just know that help is out there should you need it ok. (Cad) Yep. (Girl) You’ll never go to the meetings will you. (Cad) Nope. (Girl) Christ, it’s free damnit! (Cad) So? (Girl) Good god, why the fuck can’t you guys just clean the fuck up, start living like humans and quit costing the hardworking taxpayers like me billions of dollars!! I mean shit!! Is it that hard huh?? Is it you dumb jerk!! Is it to much to ask to not have to wade through you guys every time I want to go down town for coffee!!!! IS IT YOU @$$*&%$**#!!!!!!!.....gasp…..gasp…….uh…..can I get a drink of that whisky? (Cad) sure. (Girl) Ummmm…….you going to snort that? (Cad) No, be my guest………

Another one falls to the siren song of the seedy underworld……….

An Ode To Bear Creek

Soft spring rain pure driven snow soon will make your waters grow.

Cascading down from jagged peak hidden springs swell to a creek.

On past mountain and jagged plain waters rise but banks contain.

Through open field and orchards wide, clear waters mix with pesticide.

Into farms where cows do romp dirt meets creek with muddy hoof stomp.

Still quite pure but not as sweet smelling creek now bends towards town of Snelling.

Past factories whose stacks do spew carbon coated asbestos into you.

Now purity and color lack as you wind past oily race track gack.

On to towns edge you flow with hiss, cross open sewage mule piss.

Now Merced is were you head, thirsty coyotes drink and soon drop dead.

Car parts shopping carts ratty old tire, joggers loose shoes in foul mire.

Green and smelly rotting stink water not even maggots drink.

On you squelch O nastyidge right down to Cad Grublygold’s bridge.

Here sits Cad washing face in the muck, being down on your luck sure must suck.

Spring Time for Cad in Merced

It’s spring time once more in the little town of Merced. The trees along Bear Creek have turned from dark gray to light gray, which is as colorful as they will ever get due to the polluted nature of the stream. Spring is also when the bums and other assorted mole people crawl out from under various rocks and bridges to blink at the sun like mutant lizards on a mutant world. Spring heralds the return of the ducks cranes and other water birds stupid enough to call the smelly brown green waters of the creek home. With the return of the birds, the hobos and bridge dwellers come out in droves looking for their first good meal of the season. The hunting techniques vary greatly, some hobos flap their arms and squawk in a rough imitation, hoping to win the trust of the flock long enough to make a diving grab. Others use reed snorkels to sneak up from below and yank the choice duck under by the legs. I prefer to dress up as a giant brand muffin and flop about on the bank until an unfortunate fowl waddles over and attempts to sample me. On a personal note however, use this method only to catch ducks. Dressing up like a large frog and flopping into a flock of egrets may well cost you your life. With the birds come nats, great clouds of them. These particular nats are known as Nose Nats, and they seem to find nothing more pleasurable than speeding up the nostril of an unwary jogger. The sound of joggers blowing nats out of their noses is as much a part of spring in Merced as the muffled warble of the season’s first song bird being smothered to death under a used diaper on the trash lined banks of the creek. Close behind the birds and nats is the annual spawning run of the Bear Creek Glop Fish. Drawn to the horrid smell of the creek waters warming up in the sun, these detestable fish are a favorite food of buzzards due to their astoundingly foul taste and eye watering smell. On a warm spring day you can see great flocks of buzzards dive bombing the muddy bottom of the creek in search of this unique delicacy. All the buzzards in the water however pose a grave threat to the fishing hobos, particularly those using hollow reeds. From below the muddy water a buzzard looks an awful lot like a duck, but yanking a buzzard down by its feet is a terrible idea. Buzzards really hate that, and will think nothing of tearing off the offending appendage. Many a hobo ends the summer months minus a finger or eye.

Spring, in my humble opinion is the best time of the year. Lounging under the stars, roasting a scorched crane on an open fire, chasing hot tourist girls through the park wearing nothing but a thong made of cat hide. Ya just can’t beat that kind of living.

Care Not Cash

A recent Bay Area ballot initiative has me worried, the plan is called, Care not Cash. It would seem that some bureaucratic asshole has decided that instead of just handing out tax payer dollars to the homeless, so that they can blow it all in a one night orgy of sex and booze. The money instead will be given in the form of housing and food etc. To the uninformed this may seem like a good plan…..WRONG!!!!!!!!............ As a homeless man I tell you that this plan is the worst idea ever!! And I will tell you why.

1: Homless people do not want housing, nor do we want hot meals and beds. The fact that we live in parks and eat out of garbage cans speaks for it’s self. Hell any old moron can go get a job and buy a house, but it takes strong will and cunning to survive in the urban jungle, and we homeless love this challenge, that’s why we live like we do.

Forcing the homeless off the streets and into shelters is like forcing the fierce Apache Indians to live on reservations as farmers, it’s wrong and cruel.

2: We homeless are a solitary breed, slinking about on the edge of humanity. Fiercely territorial we will fight to the death to insure our solidarity. By pushing the homeless off the streets and into small shelters, the tensions would build alarmingly. Simply put, you can’t stuff one hundred mountain lions into one cadge, the carnage would be awful. So to with the homeless, if we are forced to eat and sleep together, the consequences will be severe.

3: Stopping the cash flow to the homeless would force us to find other methods of income. Can recycling until now has been used only as a supplemental means of acquiring income, but with the cessation of all other funds, we homeless would be forced to ramp up our recycling efforts one hundred fold. Just imagine the chaos that would be caused by desperate homeless people running about, snatching half empty sodas out of people’s hands, and breaking into houses to rummage through cupboards looking for CA. redemption cracker boxes. And of course let us not forget panhandling. Until now, panhandling has been regarded among the homeless as more sport than a reliable source of booze money, we take great pleasure from standing in public places smelling like one of Andre the Giants sweat socks on a hot day. We revel in the looks of fear that pass across pretty faces as we stretch forth our foul hands for change. Much laughter is had at the expense of all those who go to hilarious lengths to avoid us.

But take away our primary income, force us to use panhandling as that primary source, and we will stop laughing. REMEMBER THIS ALL YOU URBANITES. We homeless are usually tanked out of our minds on wonder drugs like PCP, this gives us super human strength. We do not have to ask meekly for spare change, we do not have to cast our eyes down and mumble incoherently hoping for pity……oh no……we do not have to do this at all……………..WE COULD KILL YOU AND TAKE THE FUCKING CHANGE!!!!!

Never forget that.

The money that the federal government gives us every month is not aid, it is a bribe. It is pacification money, it is money paid so that we will continue living on the fringe of the civilized world, far from the clean houses and sunny faced little children. And trust me this is exactly where you would want us to be. However there are some who forget this, and they in their stupidity may doom you all.

I urge you all to write your Congress man, and VOTE NO on Care Not Cash!!

Just let us collect our damn money and we will leve you alone…………..