I consolidated the stories about Fred.


...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Saturday, April 28, 2012


 I think the key to making money, is to be a sycophant. Professional athletes, movie stars, and musicians are infamous for having posses that follow them around tell them how great they are. I don't know what kind of degree you have to find this kind of employment, but I want some of that. Mike Tyson is the epitome of this type of excess. He gave millions of dollars to his yes-men. But Mike Tyson is now considerably less wealthy, and he lives somewhere that isn't here, so I guess I need to find another person to affirm.

   I found a guy with a face tattoo and gold teeth, just like Mike Tyson, on the street corner by house, I bet he's rich. I'll be his posse. I followed him around for several days, giving him the full flunky treatment. We picked up cans off of the gutter, postulated that Elvis was abducted by space aliens, discussed how unreliable public transportation is, railed incoherently at cellular towers, and found the best places to dumpster dive for dinner. I wholeheartedly agreed with every thing he said.

   Things are working out better than I would have hoped. My main man, keeps me in tin cans and cardboard boxes. He even let me have his old blanket, now that he got a new one from the salvation Army. I get second pick of all dumpster food, and occasionally I get to decide which underpass to sleep under. Me and Cockroach Joe are tight, he totally looks out for me, his only peep.