Dance!

November 13, 2020

William C. Hughes

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

St. Louis, MO 630101

Gladstone N. Jones, III

Pan America Life Center

601 Poydras Street, Suite 2655

New Orleans, LA 70130

Dear Mr. Jones:

I told many behavioral health supervisors my Achilles Heel was time management. Therefore, I will simply forward what I sent to Brittany Spears’ attorney. On another matter that in a better world would be directly related to my internment in Ventura County, California that allowed for all of the interactions with celebrities, you might consider an assist.

I can’t seem to publish a book that was copyrighted in 2006. Though thousands of books have been published on the 9/11 terror events, my one chapter on this seems to have led to an ongoing suppression of everything I write. NO SALE is what I declared on the screenplays I’ve written, and it is no coincidence they resemble the work of an early Howard Hughes associate by the name of Preston Sturges.

One possible exception originated in New Orleans when I called Tulane looking for an adjunct professor who had written a paper on post-9/11 detentions and USA’s torture program that included the “waterboard.” The professor had moved on to a university in New York City, where predictably no one knew of her. In the course of a mundane conversation, a woman at the Tulane School of Law said, “I was there” on September 11, 2001.

This was quickly clarified to mean Floor #92 of a World Trade Center tower Unlike sheep who followed the drill rehearsals, she hit a stairwell, an aircraft impacted the building on her way down, and she later outran the debris to survive and walk home. If that is not a Hollywood movie, I’m moving to China, where we know the government lies.

I even reached the point of creating fictional yet based on fact characters for this script, assuming the woman’s extended medical leave the university did inform me of meant that she had died. Hiding behind “confidentiality;” laws is a game I am well aware of, because mental health work mimics intelligence work in this sense. When I was a lunch coverage social worker in a psychiatric emergency room, what we said on the phone was, “I can neither confirm nor deny” that the named patient had been admitted.

In case you are unaware, it has become very difficult in the United States to determine if someone is dead or alive, even with the Internet, unless you are their spouse. No Intellectual Property lawyers? I’d love to file a lawsuit against Tulane in order to find one who will accept a retainer I can afford while languishing in poverty. Whatever Ms. Spears troubles may be, this is a state she will never experience, nor will her mother Lynne. I have become so concurrently disgusted with the entertainment industry and more interested in a political career, I’m going to enclose the text of an e-mail I wrote to an organization that sponsored a rally here in support of “reparations” allegedly due to African-Americans.

I have no doubt the “brain trust” of this group, and others like it, is comprised of spoiled “Trust fund babies” much like the many idiots from wealthy families I met in California. A memorable pair of them I called “The vodka twins” because they drank all day and slept outdoors. One had a “hot rod” vehicle I saw racing around a parking lot on which I was basically made a prisoner. They elected not to “Beat my ass” and I later heard one had died from his alcoholism. All of those antics and more serious threats took place with me calling Jerry Brown’s office expecting someone to HELP. If I have to file it pro se, that bastard Brown is being sued.

Another quick story found me exiting a bus at The Oaks mall in Thousand Oaks and robustly cursing-out Governor Brown. A man in his mid-70’s heard me, walked up, and handed me a twenty dollar bill. To him I said, “Thanks, I’m having a bad day.” He grinned, we parted, and that is not any symptom of “Bipolar Disorder.” Laymen call that mental state, “Pissed off.” I am certain Lynne Spears know what that means.

Best,

William C. Hughes, MSW

(314) 349-xxxx