Dog-In-A-Box: Order Yours Today!

January 15, 2021

A 30-pound package of Pedigree brand kibble arrived today from a kind donor of my Amazon Doggie Wish List. Naturally, it arrived in a large box, which the doggies took over for their own little hidey-space. Four lovely pics and eleven sweet videos (plus a bonus special video at the end)…all wrapped up in a box for your canine pleasure! Click on any pic for a larger view.

BONUS: special nighttime video!

Letter to the Landlord

January 12, 2021

URGENT: my letter to the landlord
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:10 AM

Tara, I am ready to send this letter via certified snail mail to my landlord, with a cc to the building manager, and Myrtle (the target of my complaint). I will need to haul out my printer for this, which I haven’t used for over two years. Fortunately, I have two unopened boxes of ink (black and color) that will now come in handy. Please read my letter, and send me some feedback. MUCH appreciated. (The ink cost me $42 total three years ago, so printing out one letter is what this will cost me…since I have no other need to use the printer. Or the inks will dry out before I do.)

To Ablahblah Realty:

This regards an ongoing, and most serious, problem at 9666 Market Street, where I have happily resided since 1983, in room 505. Which problem for some unknown reason our building manager, Kevin Bond, has refused to resolve, or is incapable of resolving. It has to do with one woman, Myrtle Haversak, who lives down the hallway from me in apartment 508, with her teenage son, Moohammud(sp?).

It seems she has an arrangement with another mom or two, for their sons and daughters to hang out in the hallway at least one day per week, for hours. Which mostly impacts myself, because they are usually parked right in front of my door (at the end of a short hallway), often talking loudly, even yelling sometimes. This is a direct invasion of my privacy, and much worse: they don’t wear a mask! Thus putting myself and everyone else in the building, at risk of catching and spreading the novel coronavirus. I am most at risk, obviously because more exposed to their presence…and in addition, I am seventy years old.

I also do not enjoy hearing teenagers (or anyone else) saying “niggah” this and “niggah” that, even though I realize it is a colloquialism that is acceptable among African American youth. But why should I be subjected to such language outside my own door, for hours on end…along with their “gangsta” style tough talk? Honestly, were I a parent who adopted a black child, I would never raise him like that.

I find it rather intimidating that strangers hang out in the hallway, and close to my door. So much so, that I try not to step out during the lengthy time they are there. And this includes using the restroom I share with two other residents, one of whom is elderly like myself. Talk about discomfort! I really do not like strangers seeing me come and go, especially when they’re hanging out but ten or so feet from my door, and right in front of it.

Not only do they refuse to wear masks, but freely use the same restroom I and two more residents use. Thus exposing me and others to the scary possibility of greater exposure to COVID-19 than need be. This is a problem that’s been going on for at least several months, with no resolution in sight. For I have already spoken with both Mr. Bond and Ms. Haversak twice about this, two and three months ago. Both times Kevin said he’ll get on top of this, and Myrtle gave the impression that she will, too. But things have not changed one iota. So I don’t see any point in confronting either one about this, any more…but simply wonder:

“Doesn’t either Ms. Haversak or Mr. Bond even care about how this uncomfortable scenario is a threat to any and all residents’ lives?” Especially to myself, and other tenants who reside on the second floor.

I have found Kevin Bond to be a most congenial and responsible manager overall, but this takes the cake. Now, I’m sticking my neck out by reporting this to you, due to possible retaliation by one or more parties involved. Nonetheless, my health is at risk, as well as everyone else who lives here, due to Moohammud’s friends’ refusal to wear a mask. This is such a dangerous situation due to the potential exposure to a deadly virus being thoughtlessly spread (at least, the potential is there), that I feel compelled to also bring this to the attention of our health authorities, if this problem isn’t truly resolved promptly.

Most sincerely,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

Re: URGENT: my letter to the landlord
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 2:21 PM

It’s fine. Couple of teensy tweaks (in red).

I’ve redacted the letter already, thanks.

Send it!!! What a horrible, fucked-up situation.

I hesitate because of possible retaliation, and the dogs’ safety is my top concern. Retaliation potential may be high, as this could include Moohammud’s friends who’ve been hanging out in the hallway at least once a week for months. Myrtle’s son, Moohammud, used to be a nice little kid, but he’s big now, around 6-foot-3 and of an athletic build…and unpleasant any more, like he has a chip on his shoulder. The occasional times I say hello to him, he speaks not a word and walks on. Myrtle herself is a petite, straw-haired lesbian around 5-foot-3, who attends the Unitarian Universalist Church, which is composed of mostly milquetoast, rich liberals. She’s been living with her son in that studio apartment for years now, maybe eight or nine. I sense hostility from Moohammud, and that his mom probably turned him against me by telling him to never have anything to do with me. Because why? Because I associate with homeless people. Many people around the neighborhood regard me as a dropout and loser former hippie. And no doubt our current manager has played a role in perpetuating this stigma, as have all the former ones. Boy do THEY miss the mark!

Yet my conscience won’t allow me to remain silent, as this is potentially deadly to all who live here. Should I succumb to the virus, what would happen to the doggies? I’m thinking now of just mailing ONE letter first class, to the landlord, and nothing to either Myrtle or the manager. I’ve done this once before, many years ago, over one of the landlord’s myriad relations (this one a nephew six times removed, I think), who just got off the boat from some middle eastern Arab country, and who was given a room on my floor, so of course we shared the bathroom. He was scary-crazy as a loon, probably high on meth…frightened everyone in the building. So I sent Ablahblah Realty my letter of concern, and they moved him out immediately. Funny how the building manager herself NEVER contacted Ablahblah to rectify this problem…so I, a low-paying, long-term renter, did instead.

But here’s an awkward thing that happened on the same day I refused to return the mutts to Deek:

Since my phone was dead, I rushed to Myrtle’s apartment to ask to use her phone. Thinking SHE would be the one to open the door, but no, it was Moohammud. So I told him this is an emergency and my land line is dead. He handed me his phone immediately, and I made my first 911 call that day…and informed them that I’m using a neighbor’s phone. Then I handed it back to him, said thanks much, and went on my way. It wasn’t until about a half hour later I remembered I could STILL use my non-cell-service smartphone to dial 911. Wish I had realized that earlier. Two days later, I was just arriving at my hovel when Moohammud was walking in my direction on the way out…so I thanked him again, saying that was most appreciated. He just acted like I wasn’t there, and walked right by me, while the brindlekin barked up a storm. They don’t like him.

Also, I seem to finally have the manager on my side regarding the doggies. But that could all change, as a result of my letter to the landlord. So, it all sucks right now.

One more thing: I e-posted this matter to the building manager, and clicked on the “return receipt” tag before sending it. Since I also bcc’d it to you, you were likewise tagged. YOUR receipt came back, but not Kevin’s. Conclusion: he doesn’t use that email, but just gave it to me as a deflection! (OR he chose NOT to click on the “respond receipt” link which, as you’ve suggested, is more likely.) Dontcha love how they treat me here?

Subject: Two significant additions to my letter to Ablahblah Realty.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 12:16 AM

Just below the paragraph ending with “and in addition, I am seventy years old,” I’ve inserted the following:

“Furthermore: we already have at least one resident who’s come down with the virus…possibly more, since the information as to who and how many is concealed from us by law. What limited information tenants have, is posted in the lobby. I would certainly conclude the possibility that Kamari’s maskless friends may have contributed to spreading this contagion, and may still be doing so.”

And where I say: “Honestly, were I a parent who adopted a black child, I would never raise him like that,” I’ve appended this final, but brief, sentence:

“It’s as if their adult guardians are training them to fail as grownups.”

Precisely the kick in the gut these wee-brained parents seem to be begging for! Why, it may even divide offspring from sire, as predicted in Matthew 10:35.

I am truly OUTRAGED that a resident of this building doesn’t give a fuck about the well-being of others who live here. Doesn’t even sound like she cares about her OWN well-being! ALSO outraged that our building manager is complicit with Myrtle’s deadly agenda.

So I WILL be sending the letter off to ’em all, as it’s the most righteous thing to do. There is something very sinister going on here, so it’s “Friendly Ghost Detective Agency” to the rescue! Time to dust off the old magnifying glass, briar pipe and queerstalker cap…they’ve been neglected for way too long, eh, Watson!

  • Zeke

PS: Look at how well-rested and content the doggos seem tonight:

Subject: The cat IS now out of the bag!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 4:55 PM

I saw Dieter this afternoon (the guy with the wheelchair), by the Mediterranean restaurant a couple doors up from Rosenberg’s…and told him what’s going on with Myrtle, the manager, and Moohammud’s “friends” hanging out in my hallway without masks, and acting rowdy, and how it goes on for three or four hours every week and sometimes more often. He said he had no idea that was going on, and rarely speaks with Kevin (the manager) much any more. That, I believe, is a lie. They live on the same floor only two doors away, and I see them commiserating quite often. So I also asked him does he know where he goes late at night, ’cause I see him returning to our building almost precisely at one AM, two or more nights a week. But of course he said he doesn’t know…humph! So I ALSO confided in him that something wicked is going on with Kevin and Myrtle, so keep an eye out.

Well, I know he’s gonna run up to the fourth floor where he resides, and gossip about all the latest Zeke news. So I got THAT ball rolling…especially since I also told Dieter I’m ready to send a certified letter to Ablahblah Realty, as well as inform the health department…and make other moves in the legal arena.

Then I walked the dogs to where Les works, and also told HIM the dirt. He said he hopes it all works out for me and I replied that yes it will, because when you’re in the right and stand your ground, you always win, and he agreed. So now I got aNOTHER ball rolling…that makes two, so far.

Well, get this, Tara: upon returning to my building, me and the brindlekin encounter Kevin coming down the stairs, so I asked him, did you get my email? He mumbled what I THINK is akin to a yes, so I reminded him this is a health hazard, as well as a gross imposition on my privacy, I don’t even wanna step out to use the restroom while they’re there. He then moved away from me, said they’re teenagers, what do you expect, so I said THAT’S your answer? And he replied, well whaddya want me to do, so I said I’m not TELLING you what to do, I’m just keeping you informed, and you ARE the manager, and I think at this point you need to get the police involved.

He just continued descending the stairway and once he disappeared around the corner I called out why are you being so rude to me, this is a serious matter, a health hazard, they’re putting everyone in the building at risk, including yourself and Myrtle, not to mention ME who is MOST exposed to the danger because of their proximity to my door, to where they hang out.

Well, he stopped responding, so I remember that Moohammud and a friend had stepped out about twenty minutes ago to play some rounds of basketball there in Duboce Park. So I figured now’s a good time to confront Myrtle…so I knocked on her door, but no one answered. Then I saw the apartment door opposite Myrtle’s was open and Miguel, our main handyman (he’s been working here almost daily, for over two decades now…and a good guy) repainting the walls for the next sucker who moves in to this travesty of a Hell House Horror. So I informed him about my conflict with the manager, that he might keep an eye out for me. Now that’s THREE balls rolling!

As I turned away from him and proceeded hovel, there was Kevin again, climbing the stairs with another resident, so I immediately addressed him as they ascended:

“This is WRONG, Kevin, you can’t look the other way when some teenagers are hanging out in the hallway for hours at a time, and they’re not wearing a mask, this is a health hazard for everyone in the building, you DO need to do something about it! They don’t even live here!” Zing! Ball FOUR just got rolling!

Now allow me, my most Amazing, Intelligent, Benevolent-Yet-Harsh-Empress-of-Truth, She-Who-Goes-By-MANY-Names-But-Whom-I-Prefer-To-Call-Tara-For-The-Nonce:


They WANT me to take action to stop this…they are playing my enemies, that I become even MORE of a hero than I already am! So I’m not gonna bother certifying my mail, I already have stamps and envelopes here, and an excellent printer with fresh ink. It shall all be accomplished tonight, and mailed tonight, as well.

  • Zeke

Re: The cat IS now out of the bag!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 8:35 PM

Aw, you flatten me!

In a two-dimensional world, that would TRULY be the case!

Something tells me things are gonna get nice and quiet real soon.

Yes, but the snare has already sprung…and they can’t cover up their history of more than several months violating my right to not be unduly exposed to COVID-19, and to not have rude, bullying strangers hang right outside my door for as long. They are so TOTALLY screwed. I’m sure I’ll find a GREAT attorney…it’s in the cards (or perhaps I should say “it’s in the law books”)!

Re: Letter to My Landlord now posted on my blog
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 9:18 PM

Good work!!

Thank you, Tara. I’m rather proud of it…but I couldn’t have done it without the strenuous efforts of mine enemies to try to wipe me out. If any one of ’em attempts to flatter or buy me off into softening my opposition, I’ll feign to do just that. But slice their throats just the same, when the time is ripe…metaphorically speaking of course (heavens to Murgatroyd, I couldn’t even kill a ladybug). The final result of the letter I shall soon print out and deliver unto the eagle wings of the USPS, has one additional appendage you are not yet aware of:

“P.S.: I have just confronted Kevin Bond again, over this, and he was both thoughtless and rude, with the ridiculous excuse that they’re teenagers, what should I expect? This is abhorrent. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being targeted! If that is the case, it surely will backfire.”

I must say, my dear Watson:

‘Tis GOOD for the Friendly Ghost Detective Agency to hang its shingle out once more, after all these years twiddling my pipe tobacco stained thumbs while staring out the window overlooking Baker Street through the dreary smog, as Professor Moriarty grimaces at me from behind the curtains of a passing coach.



Subject:This is so STUPID!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 3:05 PM

So I dusted off my old HP Deskjet 3000 printer, only to find it refused to print, kept declaring that the paper feed is empty! Even though I could see with my own eyes that it contained ten 8-1/2 by 11 inch sheets, properly inserted. So I went through the troubleshooting process, but no cigar. Then, after about a half hour futzing around with the devilish device, it suddenly started printing out. I was delighted!

Until I retrieved the two sheets from the tray, only to discover they were a printout of some bank transaction record dating back to 2017! So MORE futzing around ensued, and finally, It coughed up the Ablahblah Realty letter. So I made three copies, then packed the printer away. Which is a pain in the ass, both unpacking and packing, as it’s stored in the lower bin, so I gotta lift the equally heavy top bin off the lower one, and set it on the floor…in a gingerly fashion mind you, as I have my lamp, desk storage bin, Android tablet, land line telephone, and a smaller bin containing daily items such as wallet, bandanna, scissors, foldable reading glasses, etc. Can’t have it all slide off and crash to the floor!

Then I realized I still need to print addresses on three legal size envelopes which, of course, I did not have…though I thought I did, but failed to check first. This means I’m gonna have to go through the whole, cumbersome process again, the next day, unpacking and repacking the Deskjet. Which I came to learn a little while later I’m gonna have to anyway, because a dumb typo had eluded this jaded old pilgrim, until after the letters were printed out. Alas, “contributed” was misspelled as “contibuted.” Arrgh!

But then a bright idea put a spark in my halo: “Why don’t you just use one of those online print-and-mail services that are so prolific and easy to use these days, Zeke? You can afford it!”

So I eagerly logged onto the USPS “click2mail” site, registered, and VOILA I was in! You can even mail letters CERTIFIED from there…for just $4.50! But let me tell you, Tara, it’s a tangle of spaghetti, jumping through pointless and exacerbating hoops just setting things up for ONE lousy letter, then figuring out how to preview and send it off. From setting up an address to formatting it properly, to reviewing it before clicking on the “mail it now” button…all a monstrous, convoluted affair doomed to failure right out of the gate. I just could NOT figure out how to get it done! And I know it’s not ME, because I’m pretty much an expert in things computer/Internet-ish. I finally gave up and conceded to doing it the old fashioned way.

But what ALSO pisses me off, is that they now have some valuable data on me, that I can’t erase at this point. So here’s yet ONE MORE database vulnerable to hacking and identity theft, that sooner or later will catch up to me…as it will to us all. I predict that the entire human race will wake up some day soon, to discover everyone’s money and personal information in one humongous server that is also in the name of one, humongous company, black market or otherwise. Maybe even just one person! (I pray to God that person be me.) And we’ll all have to use the same username and password to do ANYthing at all.

So I still need to purchase some legal size envelopes, then print them out. Hopefully getting the format right, so that the return and sendee addresses are properly positioned, will NOT be too much of a pinch in the keister. THEN I have to go somewhere in PERSON, to get that one letter addressed to Ablahblah Realty, certified. And I’ll have to bring the doggies which I DON’T want to do, as I will be forging deeper into dangerous territory, where I’m more likely to run into Deek or a minion of his. Jeez Louise, when is all this mounting doo-doo gonna end? Oh yeah, in three days, January 16th, which is Saturday. I HOPE.

I don’t know, Tara, but between the DSL crap and the Maskless Black Teenagers fiascoes, so much of my time has become wrapped up with resolving them, thus sabotaging my writing schedule. Eating up at least three stupid hours a day. And I STILL need to find an attorney on top of all that!

Just griping, I hope you have an INCREDIBLE day, Ms. Tara of the Whispering Vents of Circe’s’ Cavern (or is it “tavern”)!

(That was Wiley saying hi; she just jumped onto my lap, which also means onto the keyboard.)

  • Zeke

Subject: Les Friendly
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 6:03 PM

I’ve been in the habit recently of securing the doggie leashes to the bungee cord holding Les’s corner shop door open. A fine arrangement as it turns out, because both Wiley & Taco are quiet and patient, and I can pretty much see them, no matter which aisle I’m standing in. And of course, they’re always in direct view of Les, because he’s stationed at the front counter. While my pups are perfectly well behaved when I take them inside the shop, nonetheless the aisles are narrow, and I risk stepping on them.

So, this afternoon I proceed as usual, to tie them up before entering the Noe Valley Market, when suddenly Les returns from his vehicle with a load of keys and chains attached to his belt, loudly clanking away as he returns to the shop. Which startled the brindlekin into yapping and snarling up a storm! Les swung his legs away and skirted ’round them as if he were about to be mauled to death, like that tragic Diane Whipple case.

Upon my stepping inside, he admonished me with: you need to tie your dogs up elsewhere, I don’t want them biting customers. I told him they never bite, at worst they’ll nip at your heels, and it’s the clanking metallic sounds that upset them (people don’t know that, he interjected, and I replied that people should know better than to approach a stranger’s dog while making disruptive noises, right, and besides, I have them tight on a leash)…but I’ll take them inside now, if you’d like…he said never mind, just get your stuff, it’s fine.

As I plucked a few items off the shelves I noticed two other folks had entered the shop, and one had already left by the time I was ready to make my purchase. That is when I said: see, they’re peaceful, people stepping in and out, no problem, it’s just the clashing metal, like those dammed skateboards…besides, you caught me off-guard, otherwise I would’ve pulled ’em over to the curb while you passed. I do that whenever I see some tweaker coming my way at night, dangling metallic junk like a derelict robot.

But, Tara, I think there is an underlying peeve he newly harbors, ever since I shared with him my conflict with the building manager and the neighbor down the hallway, regarding her messed up son and his so-called “friends!” People are like that in this miserable burg: while they know everybody’s business, largely in part due to their OWN wilfull gossip and listening to that of others, they like to pretend they don’t, even if refusal to acknowledge certain horrid situations does further damage…including collateral, if you will. As my old friend, Chuck (who used to live in this building for over two decades and a half and actually got me in here) used to say about this city that he nicknames San Franshitsco: “It’s like living in a fishbowl.”

So, in order to test my theory (about Les’s hidden peeve), I pointed out the narrow box of legal size, secure envelopes which price he just punched into the cash register, and declared:

“I got my letter to the landlord printed out last night, but I don’t have the right envelopes, so I’ll have to delay mailing them until tomorrow, because I need this certified…you know, for my own records.”

He simply grunted uh-huh in such a tone as to indicate he’s heard enough about my debacle the last time around. I, however, was determined to NOT leave it alone, seeing as I’ve ALWAYS been suppressed, even told outright to shut the fuck up whenever I bring up something that strikes me as important for others to know…and I’m utterly fed up with this thoughtlessly flippant disregard that seems to be the hallmark of Shitsco by the Bay, and manifests an urban-wide atmosphere of social isolation for the unlucky non-elite, and an “i got mine, you get yours” hellscape. Thus, I pressed on.

I firmly, calmly emoted that this mask-less invasion foisted upon myself and all residents to be a horrific violation, such that I really have no choice but to answer to my conscience…and this letter will make the manager and the countless other homonculi in this backwater excuse of a hamlet who’ve fucked with me, think TWICE: if Zeke has the balls to do this, what else will he do? I don’t think it’s in my best interest to find out!

Les then asked a rather DUMB question: is there a sign in the hallway about wearing a mask, and I replied no, not in the hallway, in the lobby, but that doesn’t make a difference because it’s a city-wide mandate with or without a sign. But he persisted, stating that property owners are ordered to put up such signs…which speaking thusly was clearly a backhanded slap in my face, seeing as he seems to care LESS about a community member’s own well-being than he does about keeping his shelves properly stocked and the produce looking all fresh and spiffy. So much about supporting a loyal customer in a time of crisis, with simply a kind ear…like “I” was the one about to commit a great crime for standing up to bullies!

So often I feel like the little red hen for whom no one cares to help bake this bread she kneads very much, and often! Bread is the staff of life, what on earth do they think is gonna happen to them if they don’t get their hands in the dough now and then, even if it’s just a pinky? Don’t they grasp the metaphor?

I know what is soon going to happen…YOU know what is soon going to happen, Tara…and some lucky OTHERS know what’s going to happen. But do you, dear reader, know, as well? I’m hitting you over the head with my tales, so you SHOULD know by now, and what role I play in it. But if you DON’T know yet, there is still a bit more time to catch up and awaken. And just when IS that Momentous Day To End All Days Only To Resurrect Itself of which I hint? Only Queen Boudica Who Art in Avalon knows THAT, but I DO know it is due VERY soon, perhaps in just a few days from now. For I sense the idea of January 16th welling up in my mind and heart, as that likely event. Though I HAVE been wrong before, and I don’t gamble with celestial dice. And YOU shouldn’t either, if you know what’s good for you.

  • Zeke

Subject: A little pterodactyl just told me…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 11:25 PM

…in her words, and her words only (in the dark of night, perched upon the near end of a streetcar cable ten feet from my window, and four feet higher up…the luminescence of the street lamp cast a golden-ruddy-brown sheen upon her outspread wings and beak):

“Hello, Zeke. I bring you greetings from the Nebula Mesozoa where you are celebrated as The One Most High! We heard your thoughts of worry over the impact your Letter to the Landlord will have. I have been assigned the honored mission to inform you that all will align in your favor, in every way possible! You need not worry, unless the emotion pleases you.”

“Good to know, thank you, Pterry!” I responded in thoughtful waves of appreciation.

“But wait, there’s more!” she bobbed her elongated noggin most enthusiastically, and continued: “Here is how things will go down. Myrtle Haversak will neither allow her adopted son, Moohammud, to see your letter, nor let him know she ever GOT that letter in the first place.”

“Really! And why is that?”

“Oh you’re gonna love this, Zeke,” a glint of hilarity flashed in her eye. “After some deliberation, she will realize that you were absolutely correct when you wrote: ‘It’s as if their adult guardians are training them to fail as grownups.’ In fact, it will strike her like a bolt of plasma, and she’ll suddenly feel SO ashamed that she’s nowhere near as good a broody as she thought she was! So she’ll vow right then and there, to stop Moohammud from going down a bad path, which you so succinctly pointed out with your ‘niggah this’ remark.”

“That is really good to hear,” I interjected.

“But wait, Zeke, there’s still more!” she trilled softly with her long beak lowered closer to my ear. “She will forbid her wayward son from EVER speaking in gangsta again, including using the word ‘niggah’ in any form whatsoever…and cut him off from his present groupies as they are not true friends, but a bad influence.”

“Zowie! Good for Myrtle!” I joyfully proclaimed.

“You won’t believe this, Zeke, but there’s more still!” And she proceeded to elaborate: “She will ship him off to a Catholic school of elevated caliber, to finish out his last two years of secondary education. And the black students there are all held to higher standards than those he now knows.”

“Isn’t that remarkable,” I pondered.

“Oh I’m not finished, Zeke, there’s yet still more, much much more!” Pterry then cleared her raspy throat with a funny hoot, before commencing: “Moohammud will be instructed by she who laid the egg that gave hatch to him, to knock on your door and profusely apologize.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d even care to open my door, but okay.”

“Then they’ll both move out in the shake of an archaeopteryx’s feathered tail, and you’ll never see them again!”

I beamed with joy: “This is certainly something to celebrate, but what about the building manager, and Ablahblah Realty?”

“Well let’s see, Zeke,” she said with beak raised to ponder how to put her words together aptly, then revealed the most wonderful outcome to this bird of a different skin:

“Ablablah Realty will be stunned and greatly dismayed to discover what you have revealed in that timely missive. It will not hurt that, at the last moment, you thought to include a link to your Brindlekin Tales below your signature, as “,” since they will quickly learn that you write about everything important that happens to you, including what goes on in 9666 Market Street! After they read Letter to the Landlord, they’ll conclude you are TOO intelligent and well informed about your rights, for them EVER to consider opposing you even in the LEAST of ways. Your documentation of ALL offenses you have suffered while living there will impress them in no small measure, for they will have assigned a small cadre of attorneys to pore over EVERYTHING you’ve written on both your Gay Bible website AND your WordPress blog!”

“Now I’M impressed,” I chortled in delight. “So then what?”

“Well, let’s see now…oh, right, after they make their decision as to the proper action to take, the first thing they will do is contact Mr. Bond, your manager, and demand he depart the edifice you occupy immediately, whence he should come to their office, where they’ll present him with a fat cashier’s check so long as neither they, nor anyone who occupies 9666, ever see him again. For the attorneys will come to realize that you have a POWERFUL case against them, and they won’t be out of the woods for a long time to come, if ever.”

“That’s right!” I brightly replied. “I have months of evidence to my being needlessly, possibly exposed to the virus by STRANGERS loitering in my hallway!”

“Correctomundo, My Effervescent Phoenix of Effusiveness!” gleefully replied pterodactyl Pterry, who went on to describe a further near-future development: “They will replace the present building manager with one who will surrender to most every wish of yours, Zeke!”

“Oh, really? THIS is fascinating!”

“And he will be QUITE attractive as well,” beamed Pterry, “very much to your liking, indeed!”

I was thinking maybe that would be Larkin, but she suddenly fluttered away in a kind of medieval light such as you see in those paintings from the early Dark Ages…so I didn’t have a chance to ask.

There is another matter which I think will come out of all this, Tara…as I have fantasized about it countless times and over many years: that some day I will wind up owning the building. Now, I can more easily see how that could happen. BTW:

Towards the end of composing this latest tale, I took a break and gazed out the window. What did I see? A vehicle pulling over and out hopped Moohammud looking all cocky and gangsterish in his gray Adidas hoodie and black sweat pants with a white stripe from hip to ankle, strutting in his flashy-new Nike sneakers like King Rooster while mumbling whatever into his fancy iPhone, as he walked to the gate, and entered.

  • Zeke

Subject: I can’t be professional no matter how hard I try!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 12:16 AM

Trying to print on an envelope failed miserably! Even though I followed instructions to a T, the printer refused to process the envelopes correctly, but instead kept whining about being out of paper. Strangely, it unexpectedly spit out ONE successful result, however there was a nasty ink smudge on the left of center. Plus, the lines came out slightly slanted because the wheels must’ve pulled it through at a skewed angle. So I just wasted a precious 3+ hours that would’ve been MUCH better spent writing another story. And now, I have no choice but to HAND PRINT each of three envelopes…and my handwriting sucks donkey warts. This also diminishes the import of my letter. Now how fucked is that?

  • Zeke

Subject: No such thing as professional if it’s “almost”…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 9:11 AM

…but this will have to do:

Click here to view.

Letters are still in my hovel, but not much longer! Next time I take the doggies for a walk, the job will be done. Let the feathers fly!

Friendly Ghost Detective Agency at your service, ma’am. I have all sorts of ghosts assisting me, including a pterodactyl phantom from a nebula far, far away! We charge a little extra for those kind.

  • Zeke

PS: Here is the final version of my letter that I sent to Ablahblah Realty, with a copy to Kevin and Myrtle. It’s in rtf format:

Click here to read.

Re: No such thing as professional if it’s “almost”…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 4:01 PM

I think it looks good. I like the URGENT message; bound to get somebody’s attention.

It BETTER! I didn’t certify it, but the last time I mailed them an urgent letter (about eight years ago), it was also uncertified; nonetheless they responded promptly and expulsed the insane resident I had to share a restroom with for six weeks. My letters are now in the corner mailbox, restless to take wing and seek out their prey, like vampire bats…or maybe just vampires.

If you look at the very last section of “Letter to the Landlord,” you’ll see I provided a link to a pic of the REAL envelope, and the actual letter. This means that anyone who wants, can discover the bona-fide property owner of my building, as well as my own residential address and the REAL addresses and names of the perpetrators in their unholy mission. This might get interesting.

Though I’m hoping this will gather allies around me, to staunch any possible assaults on my person, the dogs, or the building itself. Who knows WHO the fuck is reading my tales any more? Surely not all of them play the enemy!

I think from now on, I’m gonna enter and leave my domicile with my smartphone camera running, in case of any unexpected confrontation.

Scroll a bit up now from the bottom of the landlord page, and you’ll discover a cute cartoon image of Pterry the Pterodactyl! I’m very proud of that delightful little vignette I sent you, entitled “A little pterodactyl just told me…”.

  • Zeke

PS: Nothing but dead silence from the past two days. Are they conferring with their attorneys? At any rate, their service leaves much to be desired for their lower-tiered customers.

Subject: I just contacted an attorney…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 5:48 PM

…via their online submission form. This is Jared Kingsley, with whom I already discussed the elevator repairmen issue some months previously. Here is what I posted to him:

Mr. Kingsley: We’ve talked before, over an issue of elevator repairmen in my building during this pandemic…hopefully you remember. Anyway, I have unwillingly become embroiled in a much more serious issue of a resident on my floor allowing strangers to hang out in my hallway for 2-4 hours at least once a week, and they do NOT wear masks, and they make noise and act intimidating, and hang out almost right outside my door. The manager knows about this, but prefers to look the other way. This letter I just snail mailed to our landlord will give you a good idea of the horrid and threatening situation I am in, and have been in for more than four months (it’s in rtf format):

Please note my DSL land line is presently dead, for more than a week now, and, my provider, is dragging their feet on resolving this problem. So if you call, my voicemail still works, but I can’t call back. But I CAN do email, so long as my Internet connection remains working…which it may not, due to this issue which they are failing to resolve at this time. I have no other phone.

Meanwhile, I now have werewolves taking over my hovel:

Chronic DOT Net

January 10, 2021

Re: [Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 9, 2021 5:15 PM

On 2021-01-09 21:30, Chronic Support wrote:


We currently have an AT&T technician outside your building trying to get access to your MPOE.

Best regards,


Voicemail from Chronic employee, 1-9-21: click here to listen.

I had to step out for 20 minutes to walk my rescue doggies, then get some groceries. I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet because so busy (the DSL land line problem just adds to the burden), and it’s now after 3 PM. Otherwise, I’ve been home all day. I didn’t hear anyone call up to my window, and I hadn’t bothered to look out because I did NOT expect a Chronic tech to show up. Now that I’ve received your email, I see NO ONE outside. What good is this time stamp on the email when it states “21:30,” which I believe is 9:30 PM?” So I don’t even know WHEN your post arrived.

PS: Did you realize when I first signed up, Chronic assigned me a different phone number than the one I already had, even though I requested to keep the same number? I was real careful in the sign-up process to choose my current number. But the way your online form application works (or does NOT work) you cannot go back and check if you made a mistake, and could correct it. I DO recall that part of the form is not worded very well, and is confusing. But as I just said, I couldn’t get back to it in order to affirm that problem. So when I called about putting my original number into my new Chronic account, I was told it will take around three weeks to change it. Which for some strange reason also meant I wouldn’t have a working Internet connection for just as long…though a seperate problem, they weirdly coincided. I asked can I get reimbursed for almost a month’s time where I had to live withOUT Internet access, even though I’m paying for it…and the mistake is Chronic’s in the first place? They said “No we can’t.” Come to think of it, that may have been yourself!

So, now that this present debacle is going on, I am reminded of this earlier one, right off the bat when I signed up. There IS no one from Chronic outside…I guess I shouldn’t expect him or her to show up until around or shortly after 10 PM, because your post is dated 21:30 and you said they’ll be over in about a half hour…and I guess this is some kind of time warp thingy we’re dealing with? So because there is probably a short in the wires I may also lose my Internet connection again?

Right when I’ve never needed both Internet service and land line service more than ever in my entire life! Right when I finally have the rare chance of climbing out of an almost poverty level existence, where I need to seek out a literary agent and many other connections via TELEPHONE and leave them messages on their voicemail and wait for them to get back to me…and I REALLY need Internet access to post my new tales which I’m coming up with at least three times a week, in order to make the most of this present, golden opportunity that may never come again? UNBELIEVABLE.

[Dear Chronic forum reader: If you don’t believe I’m that talented as an author, that I’m just a crazy old coot…perhaps you should hold your judgment until AFTER reading a few of my Brindlekin Tales. Because, who knows? I may not even HAVE any Internet access at any moment, just like I no longer have my DSL phone…and lose all the new connections and support I’ve struggled so hard to make, in hopes of turning my tales into a literary success! All thanks to Chronic’s shoddy treatment of a relatively new customer (I’m into my second year, but so help me I’ll be dammed if I go for a third!) Be that as it may, I think in its own weird way, this is HILARIOUS, such that I’m gonna create an entirely NEW chapter all about this cyber dilemma and call it “Chronic DOT net.” Check it out if you have the time (chapter 21); this may be my last chance to access cyberspace, for quite some while…’cause NO ONE from Chronic has gotten back to me, and it’s now 12:48 AM. I don’t even believe anyone from either AT&T or Chronic ever dropped by. But OMG who am I to think that I’m at least as important as anyone else…mea culpa! They certainly didn’t wait around, ’cause I woulda been back within 20 minutes, probably much sooner!]

Re: [Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 10, 2021 11:52 AM

Please note that my Internet connection has deteriorated to the point where my ability to connect is sporadic and more frequent as of last night. Therefore my posting this update could only be done once a window opened, so that I could get through. IOW, your tech service may not be able to reach me at all, or, if so, I probably will NOT be able to reply in a timely fashion. Okay, having said that, here is something very important I have to explain to you:

There was absolutely no indication that either an AT&T or tech person ever showed up. No note stuck to the front gate, no voicemail followup by EITHER one of them. And I am home ALL the time, except for a brief walk with my rescue dogs, or to pick up some groceries or sundry items from a corner shop just two blocks down Noe Street. At the absolute MOST I’m never away from my “hovel” (which is what I call my dump of a single room here on Market Street in the Castro) more than twenty minutes (but often less) twice a day within working hours (9 AM to 5 PM that is). All they had to do was call up to my window, which is right above the front gate, “Zeke!” or “AT&T here” or “Chronic here!” The other (perhaps better) option is to ring up the building manager via the menu selection on the intercom right beside the gate. Seems to me that, if either one arrived, they just stood around for a minute or so without doing either, and took off!

This is inexcusable, seeing as Chronic still has numerous customers who subscribe to their lowest tier service, because low income…which is 10 MB broadband via DSL. Who also are less likely to AFFORD a smartphone with cell service beCAUSE of a sparse budget. Under such circumstances, Chronic administration should be fully prepared to service such customers who may not have a basic line of communication via a smartphone, or a land line (should that also go down, as it has for me). I’d say such emergencies are RARE anyway, and will be little skin off’s teeth. In my case, all a techie has to do is hang around for a short while, if both calling up to my window and trying to contact the building manager via intercom, do not pan out. Which is highly unusual, I might add. For if I don’t answer by poking my head out the window, I am either out with the doggies and/or picking up groceries, and GUARANTEE that I will be back shortly. This means that one of your service people can show up ANY time without first giving notice, during working hours, and by following the simple instructions I just presented, he or she WILL be able to enter the building and perform the needed repair. FYI:

When I first got my Chronic service set up, your staff was most accommodating to my particular situation of not owning a smartphone, by arranging with one of their techies, to email me when he was soon to arrive, and I could email him back to let him know I’ll be waiting at the front gate. Also, he was instructed to call up to my window, if I weren’t there at the moment. As a result, installation went smoothly. Very nice fellow, BTW, but offhand I don’t remember his name.

Essentially, by treating my emergency so flippantly, you are basically SABOTAGING my budding career right when it’s getting off the ground!

I have recently adopted two lovely dogs of dachshund and terrier mix from a homeless friend…thus ending their miserable existence being exposed to bitterly cold nights (and days, this is sure a prolonged cold snap) and the erratic mood swings of their (fortunately former) bipolar guardian who has been verbally and physically abusing them in small, but increasingly frequent and harsh increments, over the past several months. The story of how I achieved ownership over the pups, and the many tales around them and their vagrant owner, are what my Brindlekin Tales are all about. It is a work in progress, and available for anyone, anywhere on this planet, to read each latest chapter that I upload every two days or so. Anyone on the planet, that is, with an Internet connection which, ironically, now threatens to elude me at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME.

All my writings I consider in the public domain right off the bat, BTW. All chapters presently completed are right there on my WordPress site:

I also have set up a “Help Me Help 2 Homeless Doggies” GoFundMe project, as well as an “Amazon Doggy Wish List.” Both of which charitable sites are easily accessible via an image link on my web log…you can’t miss it.

Everything I’m trying to accomplish is basically now on hold, thanks to Chronic’s fumbling and blase regard. I can no longer update my social media accounts, my WordPress blog where I post my chapters (and other tales not related to Brindlekin stuff, but nonetheless inspiring and important), nor keep communication flowing on my work-in-progress with either my growing number of fans or anyone with hopeful connections for standard publication and other opportunities for both a lucrative outcome and/or expanding recognition for my good works. This includes running and promoting my GoFundMe and Wish List projects…without which I cannot continue to afford caring for these beautiful doggies, seeing as my only regular source of income is Social Security. In sum:

Now that I’ve made crystal clear to the good-but-clueless folks at Chronic, my particular (and most likely unique) situation…may God help you if you refuse to rectify this potentially tragic outcome by getting your asses out here to my residence ASAP. I mean, what the fuck am I paying through the nose for in the first place, to a company that projects a strong sense of community, customer satisfaction, and rapid turnover in resolving connection issues? I repeat:


Thank you for your (kind?) attention in this matter. And I pray for a speedy resolution, because of how IMPORTANT my projects as an LGBT street activist, author and dog rescuer truly are!

Re: [Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 11, 2021 4:34 PM

Hello Zeke,

I apologize for the delay in getting your service repaired. Unfortunately we don’t have the best control over whether ATT is willing to stay for us to contact the end user. We can try sending a chronic technician but if the issue is between the mpoe and street we’ll need to get ATT out again. If there’s a good way to immediately contact you please let me know and I can add it as a point of contact for ATT showing up. In the meantime I’ve gone ahead and resent the request to ATT to get the line looked at. Their estimated repair timeframe is between now and 8pm on the 12th. Another way to help ensure att is able to get access is if you’re able to leave a note or something on the door for them or if you could be make sure that access to the MPOE is unlocked and available.

If you have any questions please let me know.

Best regards,

Yma Deville – Perfidy & Eschatology Lead
Chronic Inc, 666 Beelzebub Way Satan Rosa, Ca
Sun-Sat 8am to 10pm Support: 666-666-6666

Well, my voicemail still works…can’t they just call me when they’re gonna arrive soon, like anywhere between 10 minutes and a half hour from now? My Chronic phone service will instantly route the call to voice mail, and my Chronic webmail updates every five minutes. Or, the tech person can email me, as the other option. Than I can meet him or her at the front gate. That seems to be the best solution.

Re: [Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 11, 2021 7:49 PM

Okay, I taped a folded message on the front gate with “AT&T” on the outside, in block letters. Inside, it says “MPOE is unlocked in the basement, anyone will let you in. Or call up to my window above the gate and on the left: ‘Zeke! AT&T here!’ Or you can buzz manager Kevin Bond via the intercom menu. Thanks! Happy Nude Ear!”

Re: [Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 12, 1:10 PM


An AT&T technician showed up and supposedly fixed the problem…ha, ha, just joking. He got in some way other than calling up to my window (maybe I was out, walking the doggies), because I was NOT aware he showed up at all, until I got this voicemail from “Tosh” at

Voicemail from Chronic employee, 1-12-21: click here to listen.

He left his phone number which, of course, I can NOT access, because my DSL land line is STILL dead. He failed to give me an email, so I’m back to contacting Support. This is part of the problem, and is entirely Chronic’s fault…by not informing anyone who assists with a complaint, that the particular customer has no phone access (including no cell service), and may STILL lack said access even AFTER AT&T has (ahem) “resolved” the problem. And as a result, the confusion and frustration heaped upon customers in this situation just pile on.

Please note that I do NOT want anyone in my room because I have recently adopted two doggies off the street, and they don’t need the disturbance of strangers. I’m SURE the source of the malfunction is outside my domicile, anyway. And I QUESTION if the AT&T worker really did his or her job…because they failed to do so on my initial switchover to Chronic, causing me an almost three-week delay before I could use Chronic services (which I might add, was Chronic’s fault as well, due to not getting back to me for a LONG time, so I had to resort to posting the issue on their Twitter page, which finally got their attention, and problem resolved…but boy was that an uphill FIGHT all the way, for which AT&T is only partly to blame).

Be that as it may, it is super EASY to access my building (and the MPOE) without contacting me first, or even informing me of when a Chronic tech will be arriving. (Which is not always a good thing, for such easy access makes it equally simple for any derelict, vagabond, thief or prowler to enter my building without even breaking in!) They can either call up to my window, contact the building manager, Kevin Bond, via the intercom menu, or just wait a minute or two for a resident who’s coming or going, to let them in.

My Internet connection is presently subpar: Chronic speed test shows my download rate to be 2.7 Mbps. And I am NOT doing any torrent downloading, or using a VPN to cause that slowdown. I’m thinking that DSL may not cut it in the long run, due to a really ancient MPOE that is more knotty than Medusa’s hair. Plus the partially open roof structure that goes all the way to the basement, exposes the MPOE to frequent dampness and possibly, rainfall dripping over it through leaks in the shabby stairs right above. Here’s a pic of the MPOE; if you cringe, I’ll understand:

This is happening to me at the WORST possible time, demanding a focus that I simply CAN’T afford right now. My writing, self-promoting (including seeking the best literary agent, as well as posting several days a week, my latest tale to a growing base of followers), along with caring for two, newly adopted doggies…and relying on GoFundMe and my Amazon Doggy Wish List to feed and provide for them in other ways, which services I could NOT access if my Internet connection decides to finally go south.

If things keep diddling along as they already are, I will have to find some other way to connect…probably through an Android tablet with unlimited 3G and 2G, that allows tethering at no extra cost, and does not have cell service. In which case I will BREAK my contract with Chronic, whether they agree to it or not. The law IS on my side. If I have to, I’ll get a NEW debit card, so Chronic can no longer make automatic withdrawals.

Of course I’d prefer to maintain my Chronic account, but not under such a difficult condition, in a city that is supposed to be the epicenter of high tech, though actual experience by countless customers exposes a rather irresponsible and corrupt underbelly. While Chronic may be the LEAST corrupted, they still leave much to be desired, largely because of their dependence upon AT&T, but not completely…which REQUIRES all customers to pay for a land line, whether they want it or not.

I REALLY don’t have the time for this…and my important projects are all suffering to an extreme, because of this Kafkaesque charade.

Most sincerely,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin
Veteran LGBT activist, homeless advocate, author and dog rescuer since before the dawn of Futurama.

PS: Wifi for my android tablet and non-cell-service smartphone is sporadic, at best, keeps crapping out even though I’ve reset the network several times. And there is also the very SERIOUS matter of a neighbor down my hallway allowing her son’s guests to hang out IN that hallway and RIGHT BEFORE MY DOOR for several hours once or twice a week, because she’s “helping” another mom who can’t be home for that time period, when they get out of school. So they make lots of noise, even argue and scream at times, and I have absolutely NO privacy, they see me whenever I exit and enter, and worst of all: THEY REFUSE TO WEAR A MASK! And I HAVE NO PHONE SERVICE which is vital under such a circumstance, in order to document this with calls to the health department and other pertinent agencies. At least I can call 911 with the smartphone, but that’s a bandaid. This horrific situation has been going on for months, even though I confronted the building manager and the guilty party TWICE within a period of five weeks, four and three months back. SO I NEED A WORKING PHONE, AND I NEED IT BAD.

Re: [ Chronic #6249432] [VOICE] No Dial Tone – STI: STI-0362244-6
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 14, 2021 4:21 PM

On 2021-01-15 03:27, Chronic Support wrote:


You just received an email with a link to schedule your appointment. This dispatch would not require anyone to enter your home however the technician may need some help from you inside. It looks like no appointments are available on the calendar until 01/29. We would like to expedite it for you since its been an ongoing issue. Please let me know if you will be available in next few days so I can call over to our dispatch team and get an appointment set up.

Best Wishes,

Spinster P. – Comorbidity & Pestilence
Chronic Inc, 666 Beelzebub Way Satan Rosa, Ca
Sun-Sat 8am to 10pm Support: 666-666-6666

I am available any day from tomorrow through forever. Go ahead and expedite an appointment. I will be glad to assist anywhere in my building except my actual room. Since I have no telephone or cell phone, the worker can email me when he or she is soon going to arrive…within a half hour, with 20 minutes or 10, whatever. My webmail refreshes every five minutes. They can also call up to my window, which is right above the front gate and just to the left, and say: “Chronic is here!” I might be out walking my doggies. If no answer from my window, he or she can contact the building manager, Kevin Bond, via the intercom menu, and he’ll let you in. If I’m out, I will be back very shortly, and they can wait in the lobby. Also, just standing by the gate will get the techie inside, by asking a resident who is entering or exiting, to allow entry. At any rate, I’ll probably be here, and if I receive an email, I will be sure to be at the front gate when a Chronic headache shows up.

Thanks, Spinster!

My latest message to the Chronic forum, dated 1/14/21:


Okay, two days have now passed without so much as a peep from Chronic support. Finally, today this email from them arrived, stating:

“It looks like no appointments are available on the calendar until 01/29. We would like to expedite it for you since it’s been an ongoing issue.”

I was glad to hear from them, about getting my particular problem resolved ASAP. However, I’d like to point out that, normally, a customer will have to wait at least two weeks before resolving a connect issue? This sounds more like the way AT&T and Comcast behave…not a smaller, supposedly “community oriented” company that prides itself on a fast resolution! Unbelievable! That would turn ANY problem into an ongoing issue!

Latest update from Chronic’s forum, Fri. Jan 15, 2021 9:35 am

Hi ezekielk,

Per my email earlier, we have a dispatch for you between 12pm and 4pm today. It is strongly recommended you don’t leave the property during the dispatch time. Our techs in the field do not have access to email so I asked that they call me when when they are inbound and then I will email you to let you know when they are on the way. But our techs will only wait up till 15 minutes if the customer is not on site. So it is fairly critical to be there during the dispatch window. Regardless, we got them on their way today and it shouldn’t be too hard to thread the proverbial dispatch timing needle.

Fantastic, thank you! I WILL be on site (a.k.a. “home”)…and if you really do follow up with an email as to a more specific time slot, I WILL be at the front gate, awaiting their arrival. And if the doggies’ need to poop’n’pee is urgent at that time, I will only walk them three or four doors from my residence, in either direction, keeping an eye out for a Chronic vehicle.

Please realize I’ve been making a big stink because not only am I in the middle of making my climb towards popularity of my tales via cyberspace and seeking a top notch agent…but also because I’ve become embroiled with a serious matter in my apartment building, where I MUST have a phone to find an attorney and keep in touch, as well as contact various legal and gov’t agencies in order to build my case, and protect my own person along with my two lovely rescue dogs. This is clearly laid out in my blog entry called “Letter to the Landlord:”

IOW: access to both the Internet and a telephone are tantamount to not just achieving success as an author and activist, but to my very well-being and even survival. I APOLOGIZE if this has caused some Chronic nerves to jangle, but I’m sure now you understand my desperate pleas. Thank you for your kind attention and patience…and taking action.

Re: [Chronic #6259025] Re: Chronic Appointment Confirmation
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 15, 2021 11:40 AM

Hi Zeke,

Fantastic, it’ll be nice to get someone on site and get this sorted. I know it has been a pretty rough ride. Our techs are MILES more reliable than outside techs, so you won’t have to worry about us not showing up. Between the two of us lining up the details as much as we have this should be a slam dunk.

Warm regards,

Lucifer K. – Customer Boil & Wart Remover
Chronic Inc, 666 Beelzebub Way Satan Rosa, Ca
Sun-Sat 8am to 10pm Support: 666-666-6666

Amazing, thank you. This is a most UNIQUE situation I am in, as the Fates enjoy mucking with me rather often, putting me in precarious and seemingly impossible scenarios (sometimes quite embarassing, as well). This is but the latest one, and among the very worst, if not THE worst.

Re: Fwd: Re: Chronic Appointment Confirmation
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 15, 3021 12:35 PM

Your correspondent at Chronic seems to have a fair amount on the ball; let’s hope he delivers!

Let’s hope he does. I really don’t WANT to lambaste them, or have my phone remain dead, and, possibly, my Internet service die out, as well. I’m trying to staunch an oncoming travesty that threatens to wipe out my entire life, as well as that of the doggies. This is quite an intimate war with the devil, so to speak! We do NOT need such a horror to unfold!

  • Zeke

Re: [Chronic #6259239] Chronic Dispatch
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 15, 2021 3:14 PM

Hello, the technician for your Chronic dispatch is on his way and is about 10 minutes away from arrival.

Okay, Jonathan from Chronic came out today, did a great job of looking into the matter…but it looks like AT&T will have to come out again, because the Internet connection remains flaky. So he’s gonna try to arrange showing up WITH them, this Thursday, the 21st at 1 PM. He tested out the dial tone, it’s working, so I’ll need to see if a new extension cord will to the trick…if not that, then a new analog phone which I can order from Amazon for under 13 bucks. I will get the cord thing done later today, keeping my fingers crossed that it will work.

I’m guessing when both Internet and DSL went down, a short damaged either the cord or the phone itself. Thanks for your attention, again. Problem is, w/o phone access over the next few days, I may be up shit creek, due to harassment of certain residents’ visitors in this building, who aimlessly wander my hallways, and whom the manager is doing NOTHING to stop it.

Re: [Chronic #6259239] Chronic Dispatch
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Chronic Support
Date: January 15, 2021 4:01 PM

DSL phone line works again. Turns out I needed a new extension cord…I guess because when the Internet and phone lines went down, it shorted out the telephone cord. Dumb thing is, I DID try another cord, but no cigar. I have three spare cords stashed away, but I only tried one. So a few moments ago I tried yet another cord, and now it’s fine. Chronic techs still need to get my Internet connection back up to snuff, and they’ll probably return with an AT&T tech this coming Thursday. Hopefully, my Internet access will remain workable till then…it’s down to 2.7 Mbps, which is fine with me for what I do online: Youtube Studio, Worpress blogging, Facebook and Twitter posting…and tons of email and listserv participation.

But I AM particularly relieved to have phone access again, due to a conflict in my apartment building with another resident’s loitering-in-the-hallway-right-in-front-of-my-door visitors, and the manager, who chooses to do nothing about it. My line needs to stay open, so I can begin documenting the offenses against me (including risk of exposure to COVID-19 by not one, but several, people who don’t even live in my building). by contacting various agencies, including the health department, police department, etc. As well as finding, and staying in contact with, an attorney.

Re: [Chronic #6259239] Chronic Dispatch
From: Tara Roosevelt
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 15, 2021 4:48 PM

The suspense is killing me!!!

On 1/15/2021 1:02 PM, Zeke Krahlin wrote:

    {{ On 2021-01-15 20:49, Chronic Support wrote:

    Hello, the technician for your chronic dispatch is 
    on his way and is about 10 minutes away 
    from arrival. }}

 Wonderful, I'll be out front in a jiff.

I’m tellin’ ya Tara, these real-life sagas I’ve been writing the past few months, are cliffhangers around every corner! Brindlekin Tales is gonna be a real blockbuster of a book. Then come the movies. Then the comic books and online gaming. And, of course, all the toys and dolls they will propagate. And clothing I guess, but I haven’t thought much about THAT aspect. Cruella de Vil’s brindle coats and capes? All synthetic, of course, or I’ll moider ’em! Taco & Wiley slippers? Don’t forget the Brindlekin app!

  • Zeke

My latest message to the Chronic forum, dated 1/16/21:


This is peculiar. Since installing a working phone cable, my Internet download speed is now a whopping 6.78 Mbps…so, back to normal. Are you telling me that a thwarted connection to the landline phone can mess with my Interwebs speed? I need my coffee.

The Doggies Start to Eat Again!

January 10, 2021

Click here to visit Jeffrey’s online store.

Subject: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 11:22 PM

They began enjoying a few of their chicken-chew treats, then I brought out the remaining half of the roast hen that I placed in the fridge, pulled off a couple of small pieces to see how they’d like it or not. Sure enough, they gobbled it down! So I went ahead and stripped ALL the white meat off the bones, breaking it up into doggie bite-size pieces, and nuked it in the microwave…then divvied it up between two dog bowls. When I went to carry the bowls to the sink area where I have them drink and dine, they were already jumping around me. A fine little feast was had by all! I just hope we can get back to the kibble and gravy-style canned foods soon. I can’t afford a whole roasted bird every day for them! Once a week, yes.

Oh, and they’re both drinking plenty of water again. Huzzah!

  • Zeke

Re: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 8, 2021 12:58 PM

That’s a major relief. Any theories as to what was up with them? Something Deek fed them, maybe?

No, I’ve had them for so many straight days now, that can NOT be the problem. I’m thinking maybe it’s all this cold weather that’s been going on for a LONG stretch, with even daytime only a few degrees warmer. Or perhaps recovering from the trauma of a harsh street life, which didn’t kick in till awhile later. Perhaps lack of exercise. Those are my educated guesses. There is NO sign of parasitic infection. They remain bright and sweet natured as always.

This morning, Taco ate a whole can of the Pedigree gravy-style “Chicken & Brown Rice” entree…but Wiley only noshed a few bites. She sometimes eats the chicken-chew treats, but not every time. This is kind of a flip-flop, since yesterday Wiley ate more, while Taco ate little. It’s balancing out in a sketchy manner. I have no idea what I should try next, such as purchasing a couple of chicken breasts and cooking them myself. At least it will cost me a lot less than a rotisserie chicken! There is also a pricey pet-dog store just around the corner, that serves healthy treats and food in bins. I’ll drop in there later today with the doggies, and ask them to let me try out a small handful of some of their product…and glad to pay for the samples.

It’s amazing how well housed trained these brindlekin are! They always let me know when they have to relieve themselves…and with plenty of time to gather everything required for our next walk (jackets, leashes, poop bags, my shoes and smartphone). Either one will pace the floor with emphatic “esprit,” pausing by the door and gazing up at me with a most sincere, dachshundly expression, so as to make it very clear there’s no mistake that nature is calling once more. In fact, Wiley started her pacing at 4:30 this morning, so off we went to the empty streets in the quietest time of night. Though that’s not saying much, as a garbage truck was doing its thing nearby, first on my stretch of Market Street, then up Noe, where I always take the dogs for their poop-‘n’-piss.

Wiley will also start scratching on the door to let me know things are getting urgent. Last night they both chose to stretch out alongside my torso, one overlapping the other vertically, when I crawled into bed. Later into the wee hours, they both migrated around my feet and calves, thus keeping me toasty warm down there. They ALWAYS radiate boundless good cheer the moment I arise to start a new day. My heart sings for many reasons, these days…and it all started with Taco, then a bit later, Wiley!

I now ALWAYS keep the smartphone in a pocket whenever I step out, with or without the doggies. Because it contains that video of Deek’s contract. Just in case any street person questions if I’ve stolen his furry companions. And, of course, I also carry a small canister of pepper spray…but that is something I’ve always done ever since Pres. Clinton signed DOMA and DADT. On another note:

I JUST OPENED A NEW BANK ACCOUNT FOR MY GOFUNDME PROJECT! And the matching debit card will soon arrive in the mail. I feel like I’m creating a whole new reality not just for myself, but for the world…starting with a personal mission, then expanding into possibly the best dog charity service for the homeless…then spreading out even further into many other compassionate ventures, which I can only imagine but not predict, at this embryonic stage of a true miracle just starting to blossom. “Mighty oaks from little acorns grow!” On yet another note:

I conjecture that this January 16th will be an eventful day for me, seeing as that is the anniversary of Randolph’s suicide attempt when he shot himself, and survived. I’ve already written some articles about how, if I become THAT influential, I’ll create a NEW holiday season to replace our present one…which will stretch from December 30th (Randy’s birthday) to January 16th. And in light of these profound events now unfolding in my life, I imagine that the coming 16th will be some kind of astounding day…maybe not just for yours truly, but for the entire Castro District, or even the city at large. In comparing him to the Christos myth, I’d say his failure to kill himself is something to celebrate, a sort of resurrection; and that his crucifixion already occurred as a consequence of living through the worst ravages of wartime tragedy.

Did you sleep well last night? Your well-being is at the top of my list…for you are NOT just exceedingly important to me, but to many other good people. I’m sure the very BEST of your work is ahead of you, and not far off at all. I look forward to your next masterpiece with Great Expectations. (The Dickens, I say!)

  • Zeke

Subject: The Les I Know
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 12:34 AM

Over several months now, Les (of the corner shop two blocks up Noe) and I sometimes discuss my lovely brindlekin, which he knows are kept by my homeless friend, Deek, and that I help out. Well, a few days ago he remarked how I treat them like a million dollars and I retorted, well, that’s how they SHOULD be treated; and he said well, you’re treating them a lot better than your friend does, he leaves them to sleep on the sidewalk at night, keeps them completely exposed to the rain and gets angry at them a lot. I told him if you don’t think I have endless heart attacks over this, you’re mistaken! And that’s why I have the doggies over so often, to give them respite from the streets and Deek’s sad neglect and short fuse. Well I wasn’t gonna say anything but now it’s outta the bottle, they shouldn’t even be outside in the rain, they’re just little dogs, he said and I said yes you’re absolutely right. If you’re homeless and want a dog, get the large furry kind, like a Siberian husky, not the thin-furred and small ones, he added, and I said tell me something I don’t already know. (Though I still think it’s downright cruel to force ANY canine to live on the streets, no matter their size or hirsuteness…though I get his point.)

When I saw him today, with the loyal pups at my feet of course, I told him, well, the mutts are now mine! And explained the conflict that ensued, and how I wisely negotiated buying them off for $400. Thank God for that second stimulus check, it’s saved the doggies’ lives! Better have it in writing, he warned, but I said that wasn’t possible, he was abhorrent over the very idea, as he was with including a reliable witness, but he finally conceded to a video recording of our transaction, because I sort of forced his hand. I even called 911 because he was so out of line that day, and no way was I ever gonna surrender these darling pooches unto a horrid existence to a crazy speed freak, with whom they’ll likely fall ill and perish sooner than later. Well, I don’t know Zeke, he admonished, you know how people are about their dogs, this could cause you a lot of trouble. I assured him I have this under control, Deek lacks the wherewithal for any effective retaliation, and that when you know you’re doing the right thing, you stand your ground. Besides, those young men who work at the smoke shop next door to my building HATE Deek, so that’s a plus for me. (I used to resent their noisy, big-shot braggadocio swagger and commiseration right out there on the sidewalk till late at night, non-stop yadda-yadda for hours. But now I praise all the saints and angels in heaven for their presence.)

Upon leaving Les’s friendly little liquor and grocery and sundry establishment with my brindlekin dancing on their leashes, I felt a bit wobbly in the knees because he projected certain fears that gave me a slight anxiety attack…which, however, I overcame in a few short moments. I am NOT about to obsess over some bogeyman named Deek who’s gonna pop out of the blue when I least expect it, and slay me with slashing, flashing, gnashing knives of revenge! I then proceeded back hovel, but first stepped inside Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop just two doors down from Rosenberg’s, that sells gourmet dog food and treats. Expensive, but I gotta find SOME way to end their failed appetite.

So I asked a friendly, dyke employee what snacks and food does she suggest for my two doggies here, whose appetite went south just three days ago. Well, she worked the magic like a champ, handing them sample after sample of various treats by dropping them one by one on the floor, before their cute little schnozzolas. Both Wiley and Taco scarfed ’em up! They were “leather chews,” but really thinner and crisper than you’d expect. I got five slices each of duck, turkey, chicken and boar (yes, you heard me: “boar”)…cost me ten buckaroonies for scant ounces…at fifty-two dollars a pound! As for canned food, she highly recommended the pumpkin blends by “Farmina N&D.” $4.87 for a ten-ounce can! So I purchased the following three: Quail Pomegranate, Duck Cantaloupe and Boar Apple.

Upon returning hovel, I first offered them a couple of leather treats, each about three inches long and two wide. Broke them up into smaller pieces and before I knew it, they had vanished from my hand! Next I opened two of the cans and put the contents in separate bowls. THEY LOVED IT! Leaving, however, about eight percent behind…don’t know what’s up with that. Then, like a rolled up, compressed Japanese paper flower in water, they grew feisty and happy and full of playful energy, trouncing each other upon the bed, and burrowing beneath the comforters in silly jubilation! “Well, this is gonna cost me an arm and a leg taking care of them, I see that now,” I thought. “Better get that GoFundMe project flying ASAP.” But I also thought THIS intriguing observation:

“How convenient that, what with the perambulatory restrictions due to the pandemic, and further such restrictions due to my brindlekin, how unusual is it that everything I actually need is just one or two blocks away from me in any direction? And that I always seem to have at least just enough money for any crisis? Including the sudden, unanticipated stimulus money that allowed me to pay Deek’s ransom fee in the nick of time, before the doggos would be lost to me forever!”

Oh what a frabjous day this has surely turned out to be, Tara! I chortle and burble with glee! Wiley, Taco and myself are a trio of happy campers tonight, languishing in the radiant aura of canine devotion, love and joy. As for the Duboce Triangle Newsletter, in which my New Year’s parody is supposed to be featured on Friday (and it is now evening of that day):

Nothing, yet. For some reason they’re delayed in delivering them to all the local shops and bars. I dropped into Rosenberg’s just a half hour ago, and no success. Hmm, has my hilarious tale of the happiest possible death for everyone, some time this year, gummed up the works of their printing press app? Or did they just laugh themselves into oblivion before they got to tap on the “print” button? Only your hairdresser Yog-Sothoth knows for sure!

Subject: I forgot to add…
From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 1:12 AM

…this following vignette, which should be inserted just above the next-to-last paragraph with word “frabjous” in it:

Before I forget, I had this slip of an encounter with my semi-Fascist neighbor Moe, while approaching the corner of Market, Noe and 16th after leaving Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop. He was at the curb, preparing to cross and chatting with Kevin Bond, our building manager. I paused about fifteen feet away, when Moe turned his head to me and said, “Oh, you’re dog walking now?”

So I cleverly answered: “Well, it started out that way, but now they’re mine!”

Then the light turned green and I strolled across the intersection with Wiley tugging at the leash and Taco gripping my pants’ right-leg cuff, causing me to hobble like a war veteran with an old wound, as yours truly got us to the gate in one mongrel piece and entered. Yet Moe and Kevin remained in close commiseration all the way over there on that now-distant corner.

I’m sure Kevin will tell him all about it, since he now knows my doggie adventure and how it’s tied up with Deek, thanks to Dieter’s friendly gossip on the stairs two days ago. They seem to have become close friends over the years (Moe and Kevin that is). What, however, is MOST curious, is that the idea of sharing my brindlekin with Moe, in order to ease his grief over his likely-dying mother, started haunting my mind for the past two days. I kept having images of my emailing him, telling about these sweet little mutts, and how he’s welcome to have their company for a satisfying while each day, or whenever. (I’m thinking around an hour or two, perhaps longer.)

And now this afternoon, there is Moe, seeing me with the canines for the first time! How synchronistic and lovely is that?

Re: I forgot to add…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 8:58 AM

Sounds like har-fucking-monic convergence to me!

Hardy-har-har-fucking-monic convergence, that is. I’m certain the manager is on my side finally, with keeping the doggies in my room, since he is now aware I’ve taken them from Deek. Oh, this is a funny thought that just leaked across my brain pan:

How hilarious to think of manager Kevin’s impression of my simply stating outright before him and Dieter yesterday:

“Deek is abusing these dogs, so I just took them away and want to press animal abuse charges against him, I called 911 and the cops are on their way, and they’re very sweet doggies who deserve better, and I’ll be moving within two months or so anyway, because I now have an excellent publishing contract for my next book which is bound to become a HUGE bestseller. In fact it’s called ‘Brindlekin Tales’ and is all ABOUT Deek and his doggies.”

Besides which there’s a powerful air about me that I will not permit a single crack of doubt to leak through my world’s cranium that would ever make me even THINK of not keeping the mutts with me. So what point would the manager have by telling me I need to give them up? Or even posting a notice to my door, warning that I could be evicted, as a result? It’s OBVIOUS to all but the most troglodytic, that the moment I am challenged by lawful opposition of whatever sort, I will immediately gird my loins and fight back, and win. There is not one single molecule of doubt in my reality, so you’d better not mess with me or the pups, or you’ll have hell to pay for a VERY long time. And I can get away with it, as no one will ever be able to track down the source of this particular homicide.

So now, I’m sure, Kevin told Moe all about it! I’m sure by this time of night, Moe has already been musing over, and laughing at, my latest divine exploit. Whaddya wanna bet he’ll politely ask if I could spare my doggies for awhile each day, where they’ll have more space to run around, and he’ll cover some of the food and any vet costs that might crop up?

Even funnier is that today I emailed Kevin that ATT repairmen will soon drop by to figure out why my DSL land line died since two days ago…and in that email I kept my three-link Brindlekin sites in the sig, starting with my doggy wish list and GoFundMe project! Won’t THEY be surprised to discover they’re both IN my tales! In fact, maybe they’re worrying about that right now, though have yet to start reading my stories to find out. But I sure got two people highly motivated to do just that! I’ll gain my adulating audience one way or another, even if that means robbing a bank and kicking Larkin in the ass while he’s hauling bags of money from the vault, in a lavender wheelbarrow with a pink triangle on it.

Subject: Now they’re NOT eating again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 10:13 PM

I gladly returned today to Jeffrey’s because their high quality canned dog food was a success. But this time, they only ate half a can between them, with Taco ingesting most of even THAT. I wound up feeding Wiley those even pricier leather treats…but of course Taco was sitting a foot away on the cot, watching me with those pleading, round dachshund eyes, so I just had to give him some of that, too. Judiciously granting him tinier portions, of course. So now, the gourmet duck and boar dinners sit in their respective bowls without a hungry guest to enjoy them. Boy do I hate the very idea of throwing all THAT away, but I must do what I must do.

And, to make matters worse, I’m having major problems with service. No phone connection whatsoever for three days, now. And the Internet connection just went out again for twenty minutes, but came back on just now. How much longer will I have even THAT. At which point I can’t even inform them that I’m totally cut off. And why is that (some dump fuck might ask)? Because I’D BE TOTALLY CUT OFF! I already posted you my irate reply to Chronic employee, Isolde, who emailed me directly, so you already have a good idea of my present cyber-dilemma. My Internet connection could be permanently shut down at any moment, as my DSL land line already is! I don’t think ANYone from either AT&T Or Chronic actually dropped by. I did have to step out twice to walk the doggies and purchase groceries, but that’s it. NO sign of either company tech showing up. And it’s now after eight PM, with nary another email from Chronic, goddam fuckers. I KNOW why this is happening: I subscribed to their cheapest service for broadband, DSL is now old-school, following in the footsteps of dialup. So, such low-end customers get treated like second class citizens. But I WILL have my revenge: I will EXCORIATE them in a blog entry soon to appear, called “Chronic DOT Net”…with that angry letter I sent off to Isolde, among other things.

The pandemic, of course, just adds to the merry mix of demonic revelry, because I can’t just hop on down to a local library or coffeehouse for public wifi. I have TONS of excellent material to post on my WordPress site, my creative juices are exquisite and gushing like a geyser. And now, THIS shit has to happen! So if I suddenly seem to disappear off the face of the planet, you’ll know I lost both Internet and land line services.

Oh, yeah, this afternoon I had a run-in with someone I’d rather not have had. Some wiry old dude around sixty or so on an electric scooter paused by me and said, while looking down on the doggies:

“Where’s your daddy these days?”

Took me a moment before I realized he meant Deek, so I told him:

“I’m Deek’s friend who’s been taking care of them through the cold weather and rains. But we both decided the streets are too harsh for these little pups, they’ll die out here. So we struck a deal where I became the new owner in exchange for a wad of cash.” I then stopped speaking to let it sink in, then added: “I have a video record of out verbal agreement, here on my smartphone.”

“Oh, ha, ha, I see,” was all he said, then scooted away.

Where is THIS gonna lead to? I’m thinking. Nothing I hope, but I’m certainly on the alert these days. On a better note:

Building Manager Kevin warmed up to the brindlekin today, as we three proceeded down the stairs and into the front lobby. There was Kevin fussing with the key to enter, and once he did, the dogs started to bark. But not such a storm as in the early days they were here, which shows progress. I told him they’re getting used to seeing others appearing in the hallway or stairs, and they’re less noisy and acting friendlier. He then lowered himself to extend a hand to both pooches; they had by then quieted down, commenced to sniff his hand, shoes, and pant legs…then backed off to bark once more!

“They’ll get used to you in a few more meetups,” I assured him. In fact, their barks ceased after a minute, and all was quiet on the Western Front again. But sure enough, here came someone ELSE down the stairs and carrying Dieter’s hospital assigned wheelchair (IOW manual and cheaply made), so I rushed the dogs outta there before they had a chance to react. Before departing, I also told him to expect an AT&T tech repairman to show up, due to my suddenly dead land line, but I can’t hole myself up all day for someone who may or may not arrive. Now, back to a NOT better note, again:

On top of all this, there’s my hovel’s leaking radiator. Which commenced shortly after the pandemic restrictions came down. Kevin arranged to have a worker check it out, so I hanged outdoors for three hours, that they may get the job done without my presence…and hopefully they’d keep their mask on throughout the entire process. Turns out they could never get the time right (whoever they were: I think our main building worker, Juan, who was supposed to track down someone who really knows radiators, but couldn’t find him at home where he said he would be), so I wound up wasting four hours staying outdoors.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be fixed last year, Kevin?” I queried. He didn’t really answer that, but that was indeed the case. Looks like the so-called repair was half-assed, and it had to be done all over again. He suggested we try again in a week or so, but I wouldn’t hear of it, told him I don’t want anyone in my room because COVID-19. He obliged me, even though at that time a lot of folks didn’t think it was that serious (and I guess that included him), so kinda were sloppy with social distancing and such. But I wasn’t, I knew better, plus I’m 70 years old. As a consequence, the radiator continues to leak copiously, and I must empty the rubber-plastic dish basin I stash beneath the leaking bleeder valve, three times through the night. ‘Cause if I don’t, the leak will accumulate and begin dripping through the floor and into the lobby entranceway, right between the front gate and double doors, to cause a most impressive puddle right smack dab where residents and visitors and delivery people step in and out. And, yes, sometimes I forget, and the entranceway floor is like a pond, which must be dealt with immediately…but the manager’s remained mum so far, and it’s been months since the problem began.

I think the only reason I didn’t discover that the original leaking hadn’t really been resolved was because we had quite a lengthy run of mild nights since the original “repair.” Now, we’ve been going through an unusually long cold snap that began in mid-October, and is still going strong with no end in sight. Just my rotten luck, to have this extra little pest add to my life’s burden, just when I’ve become busier in my life than I can ever recall. And that corner of the room where the radiator spits is difficult to crouch down in, and remove the the water-laden basin (and in so doing must rapidly replace it temporarily with a SECOND container to catch the angry gremlin’s piss). Cramped between two cabinets as I am, with one heavy cabinet I have to slide to the right (along with the two storage bins, one atop the other) three or four times a night. Which puts me at risk of a second degree burn if I’m not very careful. I never told you about the radiator before, Tara, but now you know.

Why all this crap is happening to me at once is pretty obvious to THIS flustered pilgrim. I am about to make THE major breakthrough in spiritual growth ever, and probably for ANY human being ever, as well. So of COURSE the bodhisattvas assigned to watch over me are having a field day messing with my world. Until said time that all barriers are removed, all veils are lifted, and all homophobes are castrated, tarred and feathered and, finally, drawn and quartered in the village square! And that time, I surmise, is but seven days away:

The sixteenth of January, the anniversary of the day in 1985 that Randolph Louis Taylor attempted suicide beside the Vietnam Wall Memorial in D.C., at the point of a midnight special held in a not-so-steady hand thank God.

  • Zeke

Re: Now they’re NOT eating again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: Jaunary 9, 2021 11:20 PM

AS long as the dogs are peppy and drinking water, they’re okay. But MOST mysterious that they’re BOTH exhibiting appetite problems at the same time. It could possibly be that they sense a major change in their little lives, in the form of the absence of Deek, even though he didn’t always treat them well. Dogs are like that. I suspect they’ll get over it and eat normally again.

That is QUITE possible, along with some residual trauma from living on the streets for such a prolonged cold snap and rainy days and nights. When I was walking the doggies earlier tonight, I ran into Carra (spelled with two Rs she said), that cordial young woman at Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Food shop. She was just stepping out, about to lock up for the day, when I came up to her and said the high value dog food didn’t work at all this time around. So we had a nice little chat, and before departing, she ran back inside to return with a couple of those pricey leather treats for the mutts, because I had just told her they’re now the only stuff they WILL eat. “I call these dogs high maintenance dates!” I quipped. Anyway, the place is a godsend, and I’m SO glad they’re right around the corner.

Such a bummer about Chronic. I’d be lost, utterly lost, without the net. And yes, you especially need it now, in the midst of your whirlwind of creativity. You can still compose offline and post later, of course. I try to remember my life pre-internet. How did I manage?? Those gibbering techno-demons are real and have malicious intent. They KNOW exactly when to strike.

THEY HAVEN’T GOTTEN BACK TO ME! So NOW what do I do? I’m gonna blast ’em a good one on their forum…add it to the thread I already started re. my dead land line. It will include my angry letter to [name withheld], whom I will call Isolde in my upcoming blog entry. In that piece, I call the company (short for “chronic headache”).

Oh, God, the leaking radiator. I’ll tell you a little secret: our furnace has been busted for a few years now. Any heat we have comes from the wood stove, which, though it puts out good warmth, means hauling, splitting and drying wood, carrying it inside, starting fires, tending to them, keeping them going. I often wear my down parka indoors. They’d call Adult Protective Services on us if they knew….but just remind myself of all the money we haven’t spent on propane. Thousand$ by now.

Oh for God’s sake. Glad you got SOMEthing out of it.

16th of January, eh? I like the sound of it. Will be alert on that day!!!!!

Seven days and counting. Now, here’s an update on another matter:

When I went to the Noe Valley grocery store where Les works, I hoped to finally get a copy of the Duboce Triangle Newsletter which was supposed to come out on Friday (yesterday), to see if they really HAD gone ahead and published my New Years sci-fi parody. As I waited in line to pay for a couple of boring items, I finally spotted a small number of the newsletters set in a vertical, clear plastic holder on the counter’s left end. Upon grabbing a copy, I saw it was dated some time in December! So I asked Les if the latest issue came out yet. He said no, that it’s probably due to the pandemic, they can’t find people to deliver them. I told him why not, it’s not like they’d have to get physically close to anyone, there are people walking all over the neighborhood as it is! He just shrugged his shoulders, but I don’t think that’s the case at all, because it MAKES NO SENSE!

My conclusion: I think a lot of people are fucking with me, ’cause they’re bodhisattvas about to foist a surprise party to end all surprise parties on me.

  • Zeke

Subject: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 10, 2021 11:08 AM

On 2021-01-10 12:57, Jane Karanina posted:

I am so happy for the love that these puppies have brought to you!
Zeke- it’s a life so much better.
Be well

Thank you Marilyn (or Jane). Just please keep in mind that a life so much better can NOT be achieved without first living a life so much worse. This is the story of Everyman and thus, of the entire human race. We are about to emerge (or blossom) into an incredible age of harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abounding, no more falsehoods or derisions, golden living dreams of visions, mystic crystal revelation and the mind’s true liberation…Aquarius! 2021 is IT.

I have ALWAYS been a happy spirit underneath it all…and my remarks that some consider harsh are never anything more than putting certain wicked or foolish people on the spot. Well, either that or I was making a wittily sarcastic joke which some people fail to grasp. You can save some of the people some of the time, but you can’t save ALL of people all of the time…or can you? Lilith only knows I try! Or IOW:

Many are called, but few are chosen…so step right up for your lederhosen.

  • Zeke

PS: And that token Nazi troll on the discussion list has served me well, playing one of the bodhisattva’s major roles as Ultimate Enemy, and thus sharpening my skills to overcome what remaining negative influences still haunted my psyche. For in both standing up against his many challenges of hatred, threats and other abominable expressions (which I most certainly HAD to do) and in finding a path through it all that would eventually lead to the most compassionate resolution possible…I have gained a tremendous boon of an advantage. A boon that not only benefits yours truly, but can liberate countless others through my wonderful tales, essays, poems and letters. As for the several OTHER right-wing monkey scumbags who ganged up on me, often doing so by hiding behind the Nazi’s skirt: I also give these incorrigible punks my most grateful kudos. You know who you are (except perhaps Harry Dork, who strikes me as stupendously dimwitted, for which reason should stick to his gardening tips and nothing else).

Subject: My Pooches are Crack Addicts!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:11 PM

The dogs are pretty much back to eating regularly, thank Cthulhu. The best appetite enhancer I finally came up with, is to crumble some of those pricey leather treats into their dog food. Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store has saved the day! In fact, Wiley is so nuts about those treats, she regularly jumps off the cot and scampers about my room, sniffing for more. And if I ignore her long enough, she’ll start barking insistently, as if to say: “C’mon Zeke, I know you’ve got ’em stashed SOMEwhere!” Right now, they’re BOTH scouting around, pushing up the newspaper sheets I have all over the floor, with their schnozzolas, hoping to find some bits of leather tasties. They’re like crack addicts!

  • Zeke

Re: OMG this just happened!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:18 PM

Read the blurb that goes with it (click on video, then click on “Youtube”):

Subject: Pups…eating.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Corrine DeMaars
Date: January 12, 2021 11:45 AM

Hey Zeke!

Wanted to let you know I’ve had dogs my entire life. This I know about. Dogs need at least one daily walk…an hour would be great. Exercise is monumental in their attitude. Nutrition like you’re worried about is absolutely important.

If the dogs aren’t eating get a cheap bag of hot dogs. Rinse the hot dogs. Cut one into 6 strips lengthwise. Then cut into tiny tiny squares. Dogs don’t know portions so tiny is fine. (freeze the rest because you don’t want them to have much…very fatty.) These are rare treats. So put a tiny bit on their kibble. They will eat. Small dogs like your 2 will only eat generally 2 times a day 1/4 cup each time. Treats are limited.

You probably already know this. They’re sad right now so just walk em and cuddle em. Bring the hot dogs when you walk em. When they do something good…a treat. If they don’t want to do something…encourage them away from whatever with a treat.

Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.

Any dog questions and I’m your gal! This I know.

No, they’re not sad at all…even during the period they would hardly eat a thing. Joyful and loving through the whole ordeal. But I already indicated that in my recent tales. They get LOTS of cuddling and kind words all day long…including group hugs about ten times a day!

Thanks for your tips, though. Yes, they normally eat just twice a day, and they’re back to that. And they have a great appestat, in that once they’ve had enough, they STOP all on their own. They are definitely NOT gluttonous in the least.

I can NOT take them to a park or other grassy place for lots of exercise, at this time. It is just too risky, because no rabies tag on either, and I can’t afford to get them their shots all over again…at least, not at this time. Any possible conflict with another dog owner would ruin me, and them. I need some kind person’s use of a fenced in backyard, but I don’t know anyone who could offer me that.

Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.

Much appreciated.

Any dog questions and I’m your gal! This I know.

Roger that!

  • Zeke

Jus’ Walkin’ the Doggies

January 9, 2021

Five totally boring videos that only a dog lover would enjoy. Taco is wearing one of the two reversible plaid jackets kindly donated by one of my supporters. That blue, puffy jacket on Wiley is also from a fan…either of myself or of Canis familiaris (maybe both); I’m not really sure because it’s a mystery who delivered it. Notice it fits okay and looks great on her, but definitely the next size up would be better. There are four snaps that secure the garment, but I can only join the back two, because size issue. And it won’t fit Taco at all, due to his chunky brisket and shoulders: he’s a hunk-a dachshund/terrier bundle of doggie love! I wanted to show how cute they look when they poop, but I fear camera shyness on their part, because they didn’t go number one at all!

Oh, and if you’re concerned about retaliation from my houseless friend Deek or his pals, please know that I ALWAYS keep a small canister of pepper spray in a pocket, and ALWAYS bring my smartphone with me, because it has that video of our verbal contract that I now own the pups in exchange for $300. Which I’ll gladly show to anyone who approaches with the question: “Did you steal Deek’s dogs?” To see for yourself, you may view the scenario of that transaction by clicking here.

The Doggies are Now Mine!

January 7, 2021

URGENT! TRULY URGENT! The dogs won’t eat ANYthing!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM


They continue to refuse the kibble and/or canned gravy-style Pedigree dog food (as well as these chicken-chew treats), so this makes the third day in a row I’ve blown twenty dollars on rotisserie fowl. At first, I pulled the white meat off the bone in small pieces, and mixed a considerable amount with some other canned food that Deek left me: “Diamond Naturals Chicken Dinner”…not chunky at all, just firmly packed, gray-brown mush. No success in THAT department; the mashed-in chicken pieces failed to entice!

So I then prepared a bowl each of nothing BUT roasted bird, just as I’ve done yesterday and the day before…and which they went nuts over. To my disappointment and worry, they refused to touch that, either! I have no idea what to do now, and this is becoming a financial disaster. And to make things worse, Deek showed up right in the middle of my preparing their meal. I hollered at him through the window, where he stood across Market Street, shopping cart in hand:

“Wait ten minutes, I’m feeding them!”

But he didn’t say okay, and said it will only take a minute, and he’ll wait for me by the bus stop. So I speedily finished mixing the mush with the white meat, set down the two bowls and exited. I really did NOT want to leave the brindlekin alone during feeding, as they might fight over the chicken, or Wiley would gobble up all of Taco’s portion. But I stepped out anyway and, lo and behold, there was a humongous Bluetooth speaker hogging up more than half of Deek’s shopping cart and sticking out almost a foot above the top…behind which stood the Bodhisattva of Disruption and Chaos Himself.

“I’m really hurtin’ Zeke, could you PLEASE give me a little more money to feed myself?” he begged, just like any other meth freak would, who just blew a HUGE wad of cash the day before, on something frivolous…like a stupid electronic device that he’d sell for another Tina fix in a day or two from now. (I never believed he lost any of his devices, or they were stolen, as he’d always claim. In fact, I’m both surprised and delighted that he’s held onto the dogs long enough for me to take them in permanently.)

Of course I severely reprimanded him for wasting the $300 I just gave him yesterday, instead of spending at least SOME of it on the doggies, in order to help me with their expenses. Then I paused to examine the small sticker on the speaker’s top edge:

“A hundred ninety-nine dollars, eh?”

“No, I got it for less,” he retorted. I was about to explode in fumes of anger, but tamped it down.

“It doesn’t MATTER what you spent, Deek!” I reprimanded. “You are responsible for using that money for more important things, like FEEDING yourself. It’s OUTRAGEOUS you’ve come back so soon after I just gave you a WHOPPING three hundred bucks!”

Then I explained how both Wiley & Taco have completely lost their appetite, and I just spent $60 on roasted chicken for them, three days in a row. And that MY share of the stimulus is supposed to go to THEM, not him!”

“Oh, they’ll be alright,” he blithely brushed it off. “PLEASE, I need some cash to eat. I’m very hungry now, Zeke.”

So I caved in a little, “How much do you want?”

He hesitated to answer, so I blurted: “Ten dollars?’

Deek looked shocked, as if I had the nerve to offer him such a pittance. “I was thinking more like sixty dollars.” He had the gall to add: “You have the money.”

Upon his declarng that specific sum, I parried: “Oh, you’re asking for an advance on this Saturday’s allowance. Well, I don’t know if I have that kinda money upstairs, and I’ll have to march over to the bank to withdraw it, but I’m right in the middle of dealing with your dog’s eating problems, which have me worried like hell!”

“I’ll never ask you again, Zeke, I promise!” he swore. “Really, I won’t ever ask you for any more money, never again!”

“Well I don’t believe you, Deek, but we’ll see, now won’t we?” I riposted. “You’re squeezing money out of me that I need for the dogs, now that they are in my charge. You can NOT do this ever again, Deek!”

“I promise I won’t, ever again!” he perpetuated what I know is a blatant lie. But after this round of wallet-sucking ploys, I really WON’T be able to cough up any more moolah. So be it; I am definitely more than capable of saying NO and walking away. I know, because I’ve done it before to Deek, at least several times in the past two years.

So I told him hold on, I’ll see if I have that amount, I’ll be right back. Knowing full well of course, that I did NOT have three Jacksons on hand, but FOUR one-hundred-dollar smackaroonies. “I see where this is going,” I thought in frustration as I scurried back up to my hovel, to discover that neither Taco nor Wiley had taken even a single nosh of their white-meat-studded bowl of mush, before grabbing a Bennie and exiting the building once more.

Before handing the bill to him, I admonished: “You know when I hollered back at you to wait ten minutes, ’cause I’m feeding the dogs? You could’ve easily said okay and waited. If I don’t watch Wiley, she’ll scarf up Taco’s meal too. Now I have to go back upstairs and feed one of the dogs all over again.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear you say that,” he replied. But I know better…he DID hear me say that, because he yelled in reply to my plea for him to wait: “This’ll just take a minute!”

He also mentioned how he’s doing everything to better himself (ha, as if a $199 Bluetooth speaker is a “help”). I replied that yeah, you got a tent now (which he told me yesterday, for forty dollars, and I pointed out tents are being handed out for free to the homeless, he doesn’t need to spend any money on that.) His reply?

“My tent was stolen this morning.” Of course…and his speaker will be “stolen” too, soon enough. So I declared once again:

“You can get another one, Deek. They’re handing them out for free, just ask Boulevard Joe, he’ll tell you where to get one.” Then I pointed out the Benjamin now in his hand:

“I didn’t have sixty dollars, just this hundred dollar bill, so you get NO more money for the rest of the month, I can’t AFFORD to do this any more, now that Taco & Wiley are in my care, and you’re no longer covering ANY of their expenses yourself.”

It was time for him to depart, and for me to return hovel and deal with the present doggie crisis. But before we parted ways, he said, “Thank you, I love you Zeke!” and we exchanged fist bumps. But then I summoned him to hold on, with a tug at his sleeve…so he stopped and turned to face me. I spoke these final words for this, our latest rendezvous:

“No matter what you do or don’t do, God will protect you, and turn your life around in an amazing direction. Deek. I just can’t be the one to provide you with any more cash…short of a miracle that is. Which COULD happen, but not today.”

He chose not to reply with so much as even a “thanks” or “goodbye;” instead he flashed me a broad smile, then turned away to push his shopping cart to whatever his next destiny will be. But there is an interesting topic he ALSO brought up amid our negotiations, which is this:

“There are riots,” he declared, “and revolutions going on in Washington…they wanna assassinate the president.”

“Well, they SHOULD assassinate him,” I blurted out, then mused aloud: “I’m so wrapped up in my writing and tending to your doggies, I haven’t been paying attention to the news, not ANY news, for at least two weeks now. But I’m gonna check it out later today.”

What I most appreciate (with a bit of hindsight) is that Deek learned of this by listening to the radio! A milestone I’d say, as he’s beginning to stay informed about current events now and then, instead of playing rap music 24/7. However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted. For now that I’ve caught up with the news, the issue appears to be all about pro-Trump butt lickers storming the capitol, CLAIMING that the left threatens their Commander-in-Cheat with death threats. Which clearly is NOT the case. So much like the dim-bulb, christo-fascist right wingers to scapegoat the noble opposition by blaming them for their OWN sins!

Maybe I should just not worry, and stop offering them food till they’re SO hungry they’ll eat anything? Neither pup looks the least bit distressed, sad or in any other negative mood. In fact, they’re relaxing here on the bedding, in what appears to be appreciative repose, and respite from the cold. (Jeez, we’ve had so many chilly days and nights for WEEKS now, and still not a break in sight!) They remain cheerful and sweet as ever. I’ve stashed the remaining half of the chicken in the fridge, along with the mound of scraps I placed in their bowls, which they refused to touched, now sealed in a Ziploc freezer bag.

But I refuse to end this report without analyzing the latest scenario from the perspective of bodhisattva intrigue:

This is the latest scene of Act #whatever, that Deek is playing out for my benefit. Because he’s CREATING a wonderful story that will gain me fame and vast wealth, by typing it out and sharing it with the world via WordPress, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter. And this is just the latest twist in the plot. Oh what drama! The doggies now refuse to eat, and meth-head Deek is preying on my meager finances! Woo-hoo!

  • Zeke

From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM

Okay, I just purchased the doggies from Deek (video link towards the end of this email). As I was waiting for the police to get here, more than a half hour creeped by with him screaming “I want my dogs! I want my dogs!” from across Market Street. He saw me once or twice from the window, which didn’t help any. I had called 911 back, to arrange they call to my window, or make a little siren noise to alert me…because my landline phone has been dead since yesterday, and I can only use my smartphone to make 911 calls. How ironic, that I was incapacitated in that way, just in a moment of emergency, considering the VERY rare moments I even use my phone!

Dieter had stepped inside, with my assistance because pushing a wheelchair. I told him about the terrible turn of events with Deek. So warned him to play things dumb should he run into him. And that, since the gendarmes are taking SO long to show up, maybe he could be my bodyguard…which I’ll also need anyway, while walking the pooches. He cracked up as he slowly hobbled up the stairs, with another resident carrying the wheelchair up to his fourth-floor SRO. And said: “Oh, sorry, I’m not good at that these days!”

A few minutes later (and I still heard his painfully-slogging ascent to the second floor) I called 911 back, and asked if I could return to my hovel to tend to the doggies. (I had initially called 911 to explain how my emergency call was about Deek’s dogs, how he’s abusing them but now wants them back, which I do NOT have the heart to do, for obvious reasons. I had also explained that I was helping take care of them through the cold and rainy weather, and everything seemed hunky-dory between us. But he’s a meth freak, thus unpredictable, and today is a whopper, and I’m afraid he may be violent towards me, and wind up killing the dogs through severe neglect and abuse!)

They understood my land line is down, and my smartphone has no cell service, so agreed to either call up to my window, or turn on the siren for a few seconds, once they arrive. The four times I called 911, they were all quite nice and professional…except one who just shunted me over to the police department, where no one answered the phone. I guess because of all the political brouhaha now going on with the right-wing riots in D.C….activists and marches, etc.
Adding to the difficulty with keeping a line open to 911 is they couldn’t use my now-dead land line number, nor could call me back via my non-cell-service smartphone!

So I then climbed back up the stairs, where the manager Kevin was speaking with Dieter. I interrupted to tell Dieter the cops were finally on their way. Then I looked towards the manager, and said should I tell Kevin?

“Not necessary,” he replied, “I already told him.”

Well, Kevin was totally nonplussed when I explained how I’ve been helping Deek with the doggies through the cold weather and rains, but I’ve never seen him act so crazy as he is today. That I don’t want to return the pups to him, because he’s an animal abuser, and they’ll probably die. And they’re such sweet pups, I added.

“They aren’t to me!” quipped Kevin, but I just waved it away by telling him that was because he was thump-thumping a trash bin down the stairs when we stepped out and into the hallway…that they’re actually very quiet! I also mentioned I’ll probably be moving soon in two or three months, because I have a very lucrative publishing contract in the works. Which, BTW, is called “Brindlekin Tales” and is all about my adventures with Deek and the doggies. (I know, Tara, I’m really hedging my bets to a dangerous extent here, but what the hey, I believe in my destiny!)

I also told him to feel free to call 911 over Deek, whenever you deem it necessary, but I think he has enough sense to stay off this side of the street…and I’ll do my best to keep him at bay.

Upon returning hovel (finally! I was starving ’cause Deek’s drama disrupted everything, so I hadn’t had even breakfast yet and it was well after three o’clock) I heard My Nutty Bodhisattva screeching from the other side of reality:

“C’mon down, let’s strike a deal!”

Turned out he was willing to give up the dogs for $300. Interesting, I thought, that he didn’t say four hundred, per his original price. Though since I coughed up an extra hundred for him this morning, I guess he was respecting that as part of the four hundred. (A hint, mind you, that this is all an act put on by a bodhisattva par excellence…as it strikes me that a REAL tweaker would insist on the original four hundred!)

Anyway, I told him I need a witness, and it has to be Boulevard Joe. Well, he kicked up a stink and refused. So I said how about a video recording our agreement? He said no to that, too, so I said well then, you’re not gonna get the money, and started to walk away. But he finally caved in…so I returned hovel where the sweet little brindlekin were happily minding their own business, relaxing on my bed as usual. What patient canine souls! They of course greeted me with a quizzical stare that said: “What on earth is going on, Zeke?” I pet them both and told them to be patient awhile longer, I’ll be back really soon.

The best I could get regarding a solid contract, is this video which I uploaded only moments ago:

And here is a brief prequel I shot on the sly, taken just moments before he agreed to be recorded, and eleven minutes before the contract was made firm:

Talk about a drama queen…or speaking from the bodhisattva trickster perspective, a “melodrama” queen! He looks quite the wreck, BTW. But knowing this is just one of his finest Jewish Homeless Princess scenarios he’s ever performed here in the Castro (and maybe anywhere else), I am not particularly stressed out over any further nonsense from his corner.

Of course, after the deal was done, he ranted on about how I’m probably a pervert letting the dogs lick me all over my body, and that he’s heard people say all sorts of bad things about me, and how he has a lot of his buddies watching me. I retorted that I have enemies who badmouth me all the time, and I’m sorry he’s chosen to stand on the wrong side of Castro history, and that he wouldn’t believe how many of MY comrades are watching HIM! I was not the least perturbed by his ugly accusations, because I knew it was yet another challenge from My Cajun Bodhisattva, of how well or not I could handle my temper. Indeed, I handled it very well, wouldn’t you say?

Upon returning to my room, I dialed 911 once more, to cancel my emergency, explaining to them we had struck a deal with a three-hundred dollar trade, and I have it all on video, and that should he ever harass and threaten me again, I’ll sic the cops after him. Oh, yeah, I DID pull my “I-have-your-social-security-number-and-with-that-could-really-mess-up-your-life” card, as well as threaten to report him as a deadbeat dad to Louisiana authorities, and I know where to find him. He simply shrugged his shoulders, said he’s been through worse.

  • Zeke

PS: I really needed that $300 to help the doggies out, especially with their surprise appetite loss. Why is this happening all at once? Deek’s insanity, dogs stopped eating, total wipeout of my stimulus money in less than 24 hours (plus an extra $100 from my slim Social Security budget), and dead land line when I need to call 911? Methinks the bodhisattva forces are working overtime! My faith remains strong, puppy love is in my heart, always.


From: Tara Roosevelt
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 7, 2021 7:51 PM

However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted.

Yep, right-wing radio and TV is going wild with the disinfo. The mobs were”Antifa.” They were “hired by Democrats.” It was all “staged.” The bit about assassinating the president is rich; they’re carrying Trump flags, Confederate flags, one of them was photographed wearing a an Auschwitz t-shirt. The irony is that they were there trying to halt the electoral college certification; they did stop it, but only for a few hours. When Congress resumed, which they did, several Repukes who were going to vote to hold things up had suddenly changed their minds. So the effect was that the certification happened much more smoothly and expeditiously than it would have if not for the riots. Meanwhile, Trump and Pence are now mortal enemies. Trump goes out with a bang AND a whimper.

From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 8:43 PM

Oh, Jesus. Interesting to actually lay eyes on him.

Not his best moment, by a long shot.

He looks to be in fairly dire shape. Not that I have much basis for comparison. But he seems shaky, unstable. How I hope he just lets you keep the doggies in peace.

He usually looks MUCH better than he does today. Oh, he’ll let me keep the doggies in peace…after all I have my bodyguards who work the Koheba Smoke Shop to keep him off my block. The manager of my building also knows about it now, and he may have some neighborhood clout. And, once my New Year’s Parody gets distributed tomorrow in the Duboce Triangle News, a lot more locals will check out my Brindlekin Tales, and learn about my situation with Deek and the doggies. Because in the introduction to my piece, is included a link to the Brindlekin section of my WordPress blog! Also, I’ve uploaded those two videos to Youtube, as well as shared ’em on Facebook and Twitter. One or both just MAY go viral!

I just uploaded my latest Brindlekin chapter (18) which is called “The Doggies are Now Mine!” And it’s all about today’s disgusting fiasco, and includes those two videos towards the bottom of that tale.

Are they eating yet???????

Hardly. Wiley accepted a small serving of chicken, but Taco still turns down everything. Not sure if he’s even drinking water, but I’m watching. Wiley has been drinking. Oh, and Taco threw up, but it looked pretty harmless, just clear fluid and two tiny bits of chicken. He also had diarrhea when he pooped this afternoon. Yet, they remain cheerful and active as ever, play-fighting and being affection. They continue to look sparkly, healthy and joyful. I give them plenty of hugs and scritches, and they don’t act especially needy to receive them…just the usual loving rapport. It may very well be lack of exercise killing their appetite, which is known to happen in dogs. So I really have no choice but to get them to a safe area tomorrow, where they can run about to the point of happy exhaustion. Then we’ll see if their appetite (hopefull) picks up. But this may also be their estrangement from Deek, even though they don’t seem the least bit worried or sad. Dogs get very attached to their owners, even the abusive ones.

GOOD NEWS: My GoFundMe first withdrawal just arrived in the sum of $387.20. I will open a second account now, and transfer that entire amount to it, minus the $60 spent on three roast chicken orders, because I am reimbursing myself for a doggie expense. My GFM amount is only $400, so only $13 left to spend, beyond what I’ve aleady withdrawn. Hopefully, once the Duboce Triangle News publishes my tale with the link to my Brindlekin Tales page, many locals will check it out, and they’ll see my GoFundme appeal right there on top! And more donations will come rolling in.

CONCLUSION: This is all an amazing adventure, which Deek has assisted in creating in a MAJOR way. He is no threat, Tara…he’s one of my brilliant guardians who gladly makes personal sacrifices in order to turn me into a hero. And I believe there are many other bodhisattvas here in the Castro, who know all about me, and ready to catapult me to fame. If I’m deluded, this is the most incredible delusion one could ever have! Sleep well, my most kind and intelligent ally…I truly wish that for you!

My Faith Moves Planets, Not Just Mountains

January 5, 2021

[Note: Carlyle Lambourne is the pseudonym I’ve chosen for my greatest ally in the struggle for LGBT equality. He resides in the greater Boston area and is, like me, a dedicated activist who’s made many sacrifices along the way. We must’ve exchanged thousands of emails since we discovered each other online, way back in 1997. Though we have yet to meet in person, I consider him a brother and my best male friend of all time (Tara Roosevelt being my female counterpart to that). Enjoy this latest communique, which I’ve decided to include in my doggie tales, because it IS God’s unconditional love delivered unto me through the species Canis familiaris. And which revelations are occurring at the same time I’m struggling for Taco & Wiley’s happiness, and getting them off the streets.]

From: Zeke Krahlin
Sent: Tuesday, December 29, 2020 5:24 AM
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Subject: Have you been paying attention to my latest writings?

I have a hunch you aren’t, because I’m damned sure you would’ve felt compelled to remark on them. Ten short chapters so far, and they are astounding. Another chapter coming up in a day or two:

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke’s Mailing List
Date: January 2, 2021 11:13 AM


There is no way to win with hair. People will mock you if you are going bald, but will mock you if you have a hairpiece; mock you if you are getting gray, but mock you if you use hair color.

The only way to win is to be eternally young, which no one can do.

I think that putting brown hair color on gray hair is little different than putting brown shoe polish on shoes when they are looking scruffy. gray hair is a morbid reminder not just of aging but of death and mortality. Who needs it?

Aging is God’s sin against humanity. It is horrifying what age does to people as a process of uglification. If I were a poet, I would compare aging people to wilting flowers, but since I am not a poet, the best that
I can do is to be more honest and compare them to rotting bananas on a Formica counter top, getting brown spots, turning black, eventually dripping down the side.

Any way to get even a small victory in fighting back is fine, whether wig or hair dye or merely escape into fantasy and denial.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Subject: Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 2, 2021 11:49 AM

On 2021-01-02 14:28, Carlyle Lambourne wrote:

The only way to win is to be eternally young, which no one can do.

That may soon change…IF and only if what is happening to me (which is astounding) is some sort of cosmic joke. But, even if just a joke, no less astounding. I relate all this through my Brindlekin Tales, if you know how to read between the lines. Besides that: the gift of my writing, how it’s suddenly taken a great leap in quality, literally drips of angelic honey…so much so that it’s hard to deny what a profound love from the universal mind has befallen this VERY lucky soul. These tales are now collated into chapters, as a growing work in progress that my fans can follow:

Readers may enjoy each chapter as the story unfolds in real life, and I write it down, dress it up with nifty images I find on the web (which I call “found cyber-objects”), then proudly upload and announce its birth with an immense rush of epiphany that lingers on for days. BEST HIGH I’VE EVER HAD, WHETHER NATURAL OR INDUCED! Along with living proof of God’s hand working through me. Though not in a Christian way, but more through pagan inspiration…such as what gave us fairy tales of yore. Or from a much earlier source that anointed this planet with a shower of Greek myths that still rain upon us to this day. For I pen all my tales under the Light of Prometheus.

gray hair is a morbid reminder not just of aging but of death and mortality. Who needs it?

For the majority of people that’s true, Carlyle. But in my Randolph‘s case, his hair was the most gorgeous silver shade I’ve ever seen. Like a god’s hair, not a mortal’s; or that of some superhero in D.C. Comics. Astounding! Randolph IS Zeus, who paid me a visit…and triggered an amazing, personal odyssey in so doing. Which led, ultimately, to my first published novel, “Free Me From This Bond,” with the brilliant assistance by yet another superhero in my life: Arwyn Miles.

Aging is God’s sin against humanity.

No, God is incapable of sin by any stretch of the imagination, IMNSHO (in my not-so-humble opinion) I think it’s more of what burdens we are expected to bear, that we may grow in wisdom. Long-suffering, Patience and Selfless Compassion are indeed the Three Muses of Wisdom. We do not ever really die. It’s more like breaking out of a cocoon. Death is not what most think it is. When it comes near your time, you are visited by other-worldly beings who welcome you into their dimension, while your previous, physical body remains on the earthy plane, to act out the death process. So that others may learn further lessons of compassion and caring for one another. The decaying person is not the human who once lived in that body…it is a type of angelic force that, like a superb Shakespearean actor, fakes whatever suffering others witness, unto his or her final breath. IOW: the actual person that body once represented is NOT suffering, but has already begun living a new life in a higher, exquisite reality.

Nor is nature the harsh, impersonal beast we think she is. For likewise are each of God’s little (and big) creatures transported to a benevolent realm before the dying process begins…even before the chase commences where another animal seeks it out as prey. I am not sure if insects and even tinier living things such as microbes are part of this web of immortality, but I think not. However, like certain sects of Buddhism and other Asian philosophies, it’s best not to take that karmic risk by intentionally crushing them underfoot, or killing them in other ways, such as with pesticide or antibiotic cleansers, or even a slap upon a mosquito now stabbing its proboscis through your cheek. Instead, their tenet is to do absolutely the LEAST harm possible to ALL sentient beings, including the most minuscule.

I have previously discussed my stunning theory a number times, but initially in an essay I call “Neopositivity: A Gay Religion:”

Unfortunately, no one seems to get the point, thus dismisses my supposition as a frivolous notion…like a sole, flashy gewgaw still dangling from a dead Exmass tree unceremoniously dumped on a road’s shoulder while no one was looking!

How I came to this remarkable insight is partly through my readings of, and meditations on, various cultural myths, religions and folklore over the years. My majoring in cultural anthropology at the University of Missouri certainly opened these doors…along with, of course, the Free Speech Movement. But it’s mostly just a gift, I conclude…but what an astounding gift it is! I know my destiny like the back of my pecker (ha-ha)! And here it is, in a nutshell:

I shall soon become a globally celebrated author and thinker, highly regarded as among the greatest such kind in all of history. Imagine what that will do for LGBT equality: we shall become LIBERATED! Imagine, on a more finite note, what that will do for your OWN recognition as a brilliant activist and author! For you can count on me–once I become a beloved icon–to direct the world’s attention to one Carlyle Lambourne, as surely as you can count on the sun rising over the east each and every triumphant day. Thus:

You need struggle no more to awaken the world regarding the profound issue of LGBT persecution (and how it ambushes the progress of anything ELSE worthy of pursuit, dissent, or invention, though it be perceived as having NOTHING to do with homosexual issues), my incredible cyber-friend, ally and confidante of more than two astounding and mostly difficult decades! Now, for a final thought regarding my seemingly ridiculous (and some would say “dangerous”) declaration of myself as the world’s next avatar:

According to Kabbalah wisdom, one who truly seeks the path towards YHWH seriously and tiresomely enough, just may (after MANY years) achieve that goal. And in so doing receive the greatest gift possible, that The Lord of All Kingdoms Earthly and Otherwise can bestow upon one of his human creations:


Which height of spiritual achievement is actually accessible to ANYONE. Though, of course, rarely achievable, due to the tremendous challenges laid at his or her feet, in the process. As well it should be, just like any other great reward one might seek through a lengthy and excruciating process of training and devotion, such as what’s required to win the gold medal at the International Olympics. But even THAT most celebrated sports competition pales in comparison to what is being discussed herein. But I must note now, that one can NEVER earn God’s most profound blessing of all, if THAT is solely your goal, or even just in part: to enjoy its fruits for one’s own happiness, power and popularity. For that is the ego’s imposition upon what is intended to be a tremendous act of self sacrifice and devotion to an ideal way beyond earthly foibles.

It is what that great and compassionate psychoanalyst, the Honorable Dr. Carl Jung, called “The Hero’s Journey.” Plus his theory of archetypes that goes along with it, explains quite well the various inner drives and dreams of our psyche, which motivate our waking hours. Thus, in perceiving oneself or another as the savior or hero archetype, one should recognize that person as just himself through it all, and NOT literally the archetype. One must remain grounded and centered as the person he actually is, and not become so confused as to wind up BELIEVING that he or she is the archetype itself. That would be, as Jung would say: “the dark side taking over.” You can read a bit more about the hero’s journey in this well written article:

If I were a poet

But you ARE a poet, and a most EXCELLENT one…so I don’t get where you’re coming from on this. Your so-called prose is often of such a cadence and riddled with bullet-shot insights, which are the mark of an accomplished poet.

Any way to get even a small victory in fighting back is fine, whether wig or hair dye or merely escape into fantasy and denial.

I have a hunch you are responding to the excerpt only, and have not actually read the story, which is HILARIOUS. Try again?

Wishing you, Manny, and all others you love, a most rewarding and profitable Nude Ear! Which I celebrate and share with the world though this satirically prophetic little bon mot of prosaic absurdity:

2021 is going to be a FANTASTIC year!

Most sincerely and with great jubilation for our friendship:

  • Ezekiel

Re: Have you been paying attention to my latest writings?
From : Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 3, 2021 1:17 PM

On my Christmas/New Year PTO, I’ve been preoccupied with needing to set up a new Windows 10 PC, a new laptop, and dealing with a plumbing issue, so sorry that I’ve been short on time for other things (including more updates to my website).

Of course such interference would happen right when I’ve made the absolute breakthrough in my writing, that will GUARANTEE the liberation of all sexual minorities. In fact, they will do the same for ALL oppressed people, but not until LGBTs are first emancipated. This is one of the greatest achievements of mankind, and it’s coming through yours truly.

And yet your stupid job demands shove their ugly, monstrous imposition into preventing you from witnessing an EXTRAORDINARY phenomenon that is also the answer to YOUR wishes for ultimate justice.

You may very well wind up kicking yourself in the butt, for not being in on the action from the start. Well, whether or not you can find the time for something so earth-shakingly important, most important of all is that I move forward with this breakthrough, with or without your conscious presence, or with or without anyone else’s. I will GET THE JOB DONE, THE BREAD BAKED, NO MATTER WHAT!

Said the little red rainbow hen.

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 4, 2021 12:45 PM


There is a book called “Cracking the Aging Code”, which is a good read. Yes, I think eventually, if the human race survives, they will find ways to extend life much longer, if not indefinitely.

As the book said, aging is not simply like a car that “wears out”. It is programmed, built into the very mechanics of the basic mechanism of cellular reproduction (the shortening of telomeres in each cycle, that at its final stages will produce progressive DNA damage.” But it doesn’t really have to be that way; many species have drastically varying life-spans, relative to ours.

I know that the herb astragulus would be needed in wheel-barrows to get a quantity that help to restore telomeres, but I starting take some regularly, anyway, can’t blame a person for hope and wishful thinking, if it isn’t harming anything. There was a guy at our Christmas Zoom party who remarked that everybody except Mort and myself were aging, but said he was amazed that we seemed unchanged.

I doubt that’s really true, but was nice to hear. Bless him.

Someday, scientists might really beat aging, but the question is whether that would be in time to do us any good. Here’s hoping (but trying still to have realistic expectations).

As I probably mentioned, one of our long-term friends died, right during the Christmas season. You can’t get any older than “dead”.

I’ve said before, “I don’t know how old people can stand it.” Maybe they can’t, and really do go crazy in despair. But I guess we will find out, since “old people”- can’t deny, that is us.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From : Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 4, 2021 3:10 PM

There is a book called “Cracking the Aging Code”, which is a good read.

I read a similar book way back around 1972, called “Your Right to Immortality,” though I may not have the actual wording of the title correct (perhaps “Every Man’s Right” or something similar)…and I can’t recall the author’s name. But thanks for your reflections on the matter. From my perspective, the topic is useless, as we already ARE immortal…which revelation will soon be known to all. Outrageous claim, I know, but true IMNSHO (in my not so humble opinion).

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 2021 12:07 AM


I think that at least in a manner of speaking we are immortal, but not sure if the nature of the immortality is what we would most prefer. I don’t recall if I’ve mentioned this, but according to relativity, at least as best as I can understand, past moments are not really ‘gone’. I think that we live in a kind of “chauvinism of the current moment”, always thinking that the current moment is more true, more real, more important than
either past or future, but that is the same thing that we thought a second ago and will think a second from now. I suspect that there is really an equality among every instant of time. They all exist,permanently and all just as real.

Another sense in which I think we have immortality is in that the driving basis of reality is randomness iterated through infinity. Just as an infinite random number would within it continue to generate the infinite series of “pi” or any other value, that driving principle of reality will continue to recreate us with infinite small variations. I think that we exist simply because we are possible, a condition not only necessary but sufficient. Since we are always at least possible, we would be guaranteed to exist, even it is only in the tiniest corner of Infinity, yet still another infinity unto itself.

I am skeptical of the religious concept of immaterial, immortal souls. If our consciousness were really independent of the material gray matter in our brains, I believe that we would not be unconscious, ever, for example under anesthesia for surgery. It is quite a reversal of the order to things to suppose that instead of the gray matter animating our consciousness, it would be the other way around and actually suppressing our conscious awareness during surgery until we were somehow “liberated” from material by death. Brain scientists can do tricks such as erasing individual, specific memories, or even splitting the brain into two separate sites of independent consciousness. If our awareness were independent of material, I think that there would not be such detailed and specific means of manipulation.

That might be kind of a party pooper, but I am a stickler for science more than into mysticism, so that is my take on things until better evidence comes along. I do listen to other views, though, and open to any substantial new evidence.

  • Regards, Carlyle

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 2021 12:24 PM

I think that at least in a manner of speaking we are immortal, but not sure if the nature of the immortality is what we would most prefer.

Thank you for your well-thought-out take on the matter of immortality, Carlyle. But I mean it literally, the claim I just made: that we continue on as ourselves, from our present lives as Carlyle Lambourne and Ezekiel Krahlin (for examples). Like you, I am also a stickler for science, and I believe that the Rational Guardians at the Gate shall eventually discover, or stumble upon, this remarkable conclusion. And when they do, our scientists will also conclude that this phenomenon, by its very NATURE, reveals itself first to the human race (on an individual and limited basis) via intuitive insight, or direct, personal experience. And then, finally, science catches up. In fact, I declare it will happen this year. Care to make a wager? :D

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 8:36


Part of my feeling about reality in general is that by all rights, by human reasoning (if we have looked at the problem enough) it makes no sense for this world to be here, at all. By all rights, everything around us, the chair we sit in, the floor under your feet, the sun in the sky…none of this should be here.

It’s difficult to explain why that is true- maybe I can expound on it at some point. While it is all the more perplexing considering the obvious that we ARE here, I still cannot help but to feel that it would be enlightening to people and improve their perspective to share the realization that we really shouldn’t be here.

Consciousness is even more puzzling and difficult to understand than the existence of material bodies. Its very existence seems somewhat paradoxical – that you have to be something more than yourself, outside of yourself, in order to be aware of yourself. The behavioral repertoire of the building blocks of nature–particles, atoms, photons–is insufficient to understand how they could produce consciousness any more than a configuration of wooden blocks could produce consciousness. I don’t buy the line that mere complexity of any system that carries forward influences of past could become genuinely self-aware. AI can mimic self-awareness, but we don’t really know at all where the magic of real self-awareness arises.

So I would never be dogmatic about what might be true or might be possible.

While I respect science and trust it the most, I highly doubt that science is even capable of properly understanding the question of “What is Deep Reality” much less answering it.

One of the basic assumptions of science is that there are immutable laws of physics that are the same throughout the universe and through time. I strongly suspect that this is not
an obvious truth, but is actually quite a whale of an assumption that as likely is not true. I suspect that there are no real laws of physics… it just seems that why In our tiny corner of Infinity. They are pseudo-laws, just like evolution is not really a recipe calculated for improvement, but only seems that way.

Concerning Deep Reality, you really have to do a deep think about time , cause and effect, simplicity vs complexity. When you do, you might realize that our world is “impossible,” that laws of physics are not real, that a driving force of reality lies in things and events that are totally uncaused–not simply causes that are complex, or difficult to compute or measure–but literally capricious, for no reason at all. Deep Reality is crazy.

These are things that I want to write about when retired and have the time, to try to flesh out the reasoning behind these ideas.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 5, 2021 5:56 PM

So I would never be dogmatic about what might be true or might be possible.

Nor myself, for that matter. I am simply stating what appears to me as blunt fact. Being dogmatic involves insisting upon others, what you BELIEVE to be true…without any evidence put forth. But I AM offering proof through my Brindlekin (and other) tales, by recording the astounding events now unfolding in my life. TRUE tales, I should note. And by reading these accounts of my own personal experiences, what else can one conclude other than the startling claim I’ve put forth? The best one could oppose my claim, is by questioning whether or not I really AM relating true events, or fiction (while lying to the public about it). I guess one can also offer up the challenge that my perception and/or interpretation of these remarkable scenarios is off kilter…or that it could even be total, sheer, one hundred percent hallucination. But what I ALSO claim is this:

That more and more people on this planet shall experience the SAME remarkable kind of events in their own lives. The phenomenon has just begun, but it will soon snowball into a global free-for-all. By which time all fingers will point to me as the original source…not as the actual “creator,” but as the very first human being to which this has happened. That is ALSO profound, but not the crux of the matter. Which is this:

That we ALL shall soon be elevated into the next level of consciousness, and it will be wonderful. Do not leave your skepticism at the door, Carlyle, not by any means. But keep it close to your heart and mind, that when this phenomenon begins to shine upon your own life, and those around you, you will have the tools to question, analyze and conclude. And I predict that you SHALL conclude that Zeke is correct, by employing the scientific methods of rationalism and logic. Not because I am such a great thinker, but because it has simply happened to me first. Well, I am a great thinker too, but this shit that’s now going on in my life goes WAY beyond even the highest level of perspicacity!

  • Zeke

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