No More Wire Coat-Hangers; No More Stinking Badges...

I need to call it like it is. I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a home in the country. I needed a vacation, I needed a break from the maddening LA crowd. Due to Co-Vid, I had to take a Stay-Vacation. Of sorts. As you know "Stay-Cation" means you stay at home. Sort of. Actually, it wasn't my idea. It started with a knock at the door.

Some dude with a badge tells me to pack my bags. His buddies all chime in the same "Pack your bags" command. Like I'm so kind of felon or something. So I've made a mistake or two. Who hasn't? Is nothing sacred?  

To awaken a working man out of his beauty sleep at 2pm is cruel and unusual punishment in my book. And on my devices. For the love of God.

I forgot to pay a couple of parking tickets and now I'm Jeffrey Dahmer?

Turns out these dudes wearing badges are from Fish & Game and are on my case for something I can't even remember. Fish & game? What did I do? Start an illegal forest fire? Did I do No. 2 in the woods? When nature calls, a man's got to do what a man's got to do. I crack a joke. "We don't need no stinking badges."

The famous line from that Humphrey Go-Kart movie "Treasure of the Sierra Madre." No one laughs. Losers. Those Neanderthals wouldn't know a joke if it bit them in the behind. How long do I have to carry this town?

Those ankle bracelets chaffed my legs on that long ride up to the Los Angeles Forest. Some log cabin with "Sheriff Headquarters" stenciled on the door. I'm forced to watch some poorly filmed documentary that was shot back when Hitler was painting houses. Black and white. Grainy. Sound warbling in and out. OMG. This is Hollywood, people. Can't we at least get some shots in focus?

The film is all about Mother Nature and how we shouldn't empty our bowels in the woods. Easy for them to say. No brains prevail here. I could have watched this Online. Saved some time. I have things to do: Shopping at the 99 Cent Store. Community Service obligations. That Waxing I promised myself. 

Just a hint for you. You don't want to text Uber any ride requests from jail. Those transportation-wielding Gestapos will cross-index the address and will discover that the call is from a lock-up at Fish & Game. Bastards. I found out the hard way. It was a long walk back down to L.A. You live and you learn.

It was more like being back on Medication than on a relaxing Stay-Vacation. Too short. It was OK, but nothing to email home about. Hope your day is going well.

Mother of God, there's someone knocking on my door. 

But, enough about me...