Al Pacino, Thoms Eboli (head of the Genovese family), and Al "Sollozo' Lettieri, Eboli's brother in law.  Ohhhhhhhh! On July 16, 1972, Eboli left his girlfriend's apartment around 1:00 a.m. and walked to his chauffeured Cadillac. As Eboli sat in the parked car, a gunman in a passing truck shot him five times. Hit in the head and neck, Eboli died instantly. No one was ever charged in his murder. The Godfather was released in March, 1972.  Al Lettieri died of a heart attack in 1975.  Al Pacino is still with us, albeit still somewhat puffy from the atropine based embalming fluid used to preserve the illusion of life on the set of The Irishman, one of your more brilliant works of absolute, total, complete bullshit fiction that even the FBI agents who investigated the whole thing laughed at, worst Scorsese movie of all time, including The Aviator and his latest Osage Indian Snooze-O-Rama like, ever .  Ohhhhhhhh! https://youtu.be/j_MMLb2QB5g

After I walked Rocky the one eyed hawk, I found this happy fellow out by my wall.  There was a ring of fire eclipse going on, interesting but not significant.  The snake was a type I'd never seen before, although not dangerous.  Snakes are beautiful and a miracle of engineering.  I doubt he thought that about me.  It has been an unusually hot October and the blackened sun only reinforced the general strangeness about living in the back of a wild bird rescue center.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm the one under observation.  Maybe I'm the last of my race and all those around me are minder robots?  I think I should chop one of them open and see if that's true.  Good idea. Good as done.

“Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it.”   Part one. Outside, the night was cold and wet, but in the small living room the curtains were closed and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were playing chess; the father, whose ideas about the game involved some very unusual moves, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary danger that it even brought comment from the white-haired old lady knitting quietly by the fire. “Listen to the wind,” said Mr. White who, having seen a mistake that could cost him the game after it was too late, was trying to stop his son from seeing it. “I’m listening,” said the son, seriously studying the board as he stretched out his hand. “Check.” “I should hardly think that he’ll come tonight,” said his father, with his hand held in the air over the board. “Mate,” replied the son. “That’s the worst of living so far out,” cried Mr. White with sudden and unexpected violence; “Of all the awful out of the way places to live in, this is the worst. C

https://archive.org/details/AsimovEdTheGreatSFStories021940/Asimov_ed%20-%20The%20Great%20SF%20Stories%2018%20-%201956/page/n247/mode/2up?view=theater She could really, really write horror.  Lived in Berkeley at the same time Philip K. Dick did.  Hmmm... . must be something in the water .    Oh, well - in for a penny in for a pound. https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2022/06/the-man-who-sold-rope-to-gnolls.html     Happy dreams.

I was cleaning out the garage yesterday, we have hundreds of books in boxes out there.  Whilst I was in the middle of this, sorting through my mom's how to write stuff and just scads of popular thrillers, I found a box of faux leather bound books, public domain stuff advertised in magazines and on television to those who wanted to be well read but never got around to it so they would buy these and push them on their spoiled layabout children in the beyond futile hope they would drop their game boys and crack pipes and start reading.  One of those books was Treasure Island, which I have never read.  I've never even seen the movie, I guess I was turned off by it being Disney which I have disliked since an early and precocious age.  I opened it and read the first page. I was absolutely hooked.  Screw the garage, I read the entire book yesterday as the pelicans screeched outside and the waves tongued our dismal malarial swamp of a shoreline.  God almighty, Stevenson

  https://youtu.be/Q45yicposyI Broken Peach, Tainted Love.  Boo.

   I wanna RIDE! with my Rota-Mota honey by my SIDE! As we whiz along the highway "We will HUG and SNUGGLE and we'll have a little STRUGGLE!" (struggle (strug'l), n., act of promiscuous loveplay; usage evolved during W.W.III). Double beams spread buttery lamplight on the highway. Rotor-Motors Convertible, Model C, 1987, rushed after it. Light spurted ahead, yellow glowing. The car pursued with a twelve-cylindered snarling pursuit. Night blotted in behind, jet and still. The car sped on. ST. LOUIS—10 "I wanna FLY!" they sang, "with the Rota-Mota apple of my EYE!" they sang. "It's the only way of living.…" The quartet singing: Len, 23. Bud, 24. Barbara, 20. Peggy, 18. Len with Barbara, Bud with Peggy. Bud at the wheel, snapping around tilted curves, roaring up black-shouldered hills, shooting the car across silent flatlands. At the top of the three lungs (the fourth gentler), competing with wind that buffeted their heads,

When the cops left Tom sat at the table and stared at the wall.  What on Earth is going on here?  Why was his photograph found on a disguised dead human?  Why did said human have his photograph? These are matters of import, thought the cat.  With something of a shock he realized it was only noon, and perhaps time for some lunch.  Tom got up from the table and made more coffee.  He poured some into his favorite cup and went back outside into the cold wind.  Lighting a smoke, he thought, alright...a two course meal.  So what do I know.  A mythical creature disguised as a lion rips my head off when I interrupted his assault on the bunny twins, the cops kill him and come here to tell me about it.  But where is here?  Tom looked around the hill he lived on, at his house, at the horizon.  How did I get here?  He didn't remember ever living anywhere else, and now that he thought about it he had no memory of a family, of his parents, of a hometown, or anything other than he had always been

 Billy D Bunny as Wez with Andrew the Bee as The Toady.   The Road Warrior, d) George Miller.  1981. Wez. The Toady. Andrew the Bee appears courtesy of that Ayatollah of Rock 'N Rolla , Andibi!     https://www.deviantart.com/andibi     Vrooom.