A Perfect Meetup at Last!

[Brindlekin Tales – Book 7: Chapter 9]

Subject: I came THAT close to calling the cops again!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 29, 2023 at 3:49 PM

Another morning that started out peacefully. I arose at 8:30 AM and resumed listening to Marshall’s latest podcast while straightening out the bedding, turning my Chromebook back on and checking my Moto E for the latest news. But that didn’t last too long at all before I heard Deek hollering up to my window:


Resigned to a miserable start of my day, I stepped outside where he was slumped against the ATM plywood and the dogs, leashed to the baby buggy, greeted me with their usual delight. Lucky flopped on his back and began writhing for belly scritches as I crouched down beside him, and his sister stood up with front paws on my thigh, to receive caresses. But their master would have none of that, for he was in a NASTY mood. (Or better said: another drama played out by my bodhisattva guardian, to strengthen my mettle.)

“I’m really sick, I mean it!” he grovelled there on the sidewalk like a leper in his death throes. “And Lucky’s been throwing up blood all night long! Flaco’s kinda sick, too…they need to see a vet!”

“The dogs look fine to me,” I said, “and so do you.” I crouched back down to pet and scritch them again; they were amazingly placid and glowed with health…wet, cold noses and all.

“You do know, don’t you,” I added, “you can take your dogs to the SPCA in an emergency, even if one of them isn’t spayed or registered. That’s where you should go because I’m not a vet, I’m not your superhero, my hands are tied.”

You can imagine, Wattson, he wasn’t pleased with my replies (to put it gently) and exploded in a tirade of vicious accusations…said he already tried the SPCA but they were closed (yeah, sure he did).

“He threw up bloody puke on my way here,” Deek exclaimed. “Just a few blocks away, let’s go there, see for yourself I’m not making this up!”

He made as if to stand, but I shook my head nope, not gonna do that. After all, Wattson, it could be ANY dog’s upchuck that he came across while plotting his latest drama on the way to my building.

At one point I interjected if he’s really sick they’ll take care of him at the shelter, but of course he said they won’t, they’ll just let him die…I need to escort him to S.F. General so I can watch the dogs outside.

“Not gonna happen, Deek, you’re NOT sick and the dogs are in good health,” I retorted. “This is just another one of your bullshit dramas. Besides, hospitals are overburdened, our health care is collapsing, they’ll probably keep you overnight and into the next day before they even get to you!” I then took a deep breath before asking: “Now, can I bring them some water?”

He said okay. “How about I fix ’em a meal, too, they might be hungry?” I suggested, but he turned that down.

When I returned with a bowl in my hands the dogs seemed eager to partake, but soon as I set it down and removed the lid they just sniffed at it and stepped back, looked up at me as if to say: “We were hoping for a bite to eat, Uncle Zeke!” But their master stood in the way of my nourishing them. I could only trust he’d feed them some time soon, once out of my view, seeing as I gave him two large Ziploc bags of kibble and eight cans of dog food Wednesday evening. Besides, he has places to go for free doggy vittles.

Deek continued to push for me to accompany him to the hospital, or at least watch the dogs while he goes there himself. He even gushed crocodile tears, proclaiming he’s really sick and has to see a doctor…but I remained firm while caressing my darling brindlekin. When he saw I wasn’t about to budge he stood up and declared he’s gonna leave the dogs here and go to the hospital. So I warned him:

“If you do that, Deek, I’ll have to call Animal Rescue, you give me no choice!”

“You do that and your name’ll be mud around here,” he retorted while fussing with the contents of the buggy. Then he turned away and started marching up Market Street towards Castro, while the pups calmly remained in their spot beside my feet. I observed him cross the intersection and disappear around the Chevron station, while seated with the pups who also watched their master from afar. They showed no urgency to catch up with him, but stayed by my side without showing any obvious concern. Guess they’re used to that and, since he always returns soon or hands them off to me for a time, they felt no reason to worry. What remarkable angels they are!

At this point I figured I should run upstairs and prepare them a meal, so I summoned them over to the buggy and tethered their leashes to the sign post right beside. “I’ll be back in two minutes,” I said, then returned hovel. While upstairs and about to open the bag of kibble I entertained the idea of sneaking them inside one by one…in my arms so they’d remain silent, with the second poochie tethered to a pole while I carry the first one upstairs. That is: if their master were serious about getting medical help and didn’t return within the hour.

I’d take Flaco first ’cause she’s more likely to bark in outrage for being left alone while watching her brother’s delivery unto my sanctuary. She’d probably yank herself free of her collar anyway and stand by the front gate, barking up a blizzard. But then I sighed and vanquished the notion, as I realized if I take them to my room just once, Deek would keep pushing that I do it again, and again, and again. One hissy fit after another: the perfect excuse to spew hatred at me every single time he drops by. Or, realizing now that I WOULD cave in and bring them indoors if he just walks away without the hounds, he’d make up FURTHER excuses to leave them with me. Excuses that I couldn’t refuse…most likely feigning he’s still sick and needs to go to a clinic again. And again. And again. And I’d wind up being evicted for REALS, shortly thereafter.

So I went ahead and opened the bag of kibble but paused to look out the window: there they were sitting as calm as could be, waiting in good faith their uncle’s or master’s return. I then turned away to procure two disposable bowls from my pantry and, soon as I deposited the first handful of kibble, I heard Deek grouching outside, saying “Damn it” and other expressions I did not bother to discern. He probably assumed I just left the canines tethered outside and abandoned them, because he seems to think the worst of me these days.

But he DOESN’T need to know I would NEVER call Animal Control no matter what…I’d find a way to care for them outside, by hook or by crook. And eventually find a loving home for them should their master disappear for good. Guess I’d have to sleep on the streets with the pups till that happens. And stay with them outdoors most of the time every day.

It’s not sunny now, as I write this…hasn’t been for almost an hour. But it WAS while Deek and dogs were here, including his return after his fake departure to S.F. General. So when I stepped back outside I suggested he just kick back with the dogs and enjoy the warm rays of the sun. And I can bring them a meal.

“No, don’t bring me anything, I’m gonna sit here all afternoon and play my music at full volume!” he replied while already seated against the plywood, with the dogs by his side. “It’s not against the law to blast music as loud as I want until ten PM!”

“Fine with me, Deek,” I answered, realizing that his present speaker was on the small side and wouldn’t be much of a nuisance at all. “But if you start screaming again I WILL call the police and have you move along.”

Not knowing what else to say, and with absolutely NO desire to fill my ears with any further vitriolic rants, I pet the dogs once more and returned hovel. But once upstairs I decided to provide the mutts with a sheet of cardboard and a sleeping bag to rest upon…though Deek would probably oppose me, I had to try. Soon as I opened the front gate and he saw me carrying those items under one arm he exclaimed:


“C’mon, Deek,” I appealed to his angelic side, “The dogs deserve some comfort, you’re gonna be here for awhile!”

Upon my attempt to lay down the cardboard, he kicked it away where it skid towards the curb. The doggies were eager for the bedding, but nonetheless remained patiently stoic towards their master’s outburst, and remained seated. I retrieved the large sheet of cardboard and tried setting it down again, upon which Deek swung a hand forward to block it, the same hand that gripped his smartphone. But upon that powerful gesture, it flew with a crash onto the concrete.

“YOU MADE ME BREAK MY PHONE!” he hollered, then stood up, muttering atrocities at me as he began to push the buggy down the sidewalk, dogs in tow. One atrocity being: “YOU’RE GAY. ALL GAY PEOPLE ARE MENTALLY ILL FUCKUPS! YOU’RE SICK, STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

Rather than engage him with yet another pointless argument settled by professionals decades ago, I decided to watch them depart. Besides which, if I immediately picked up the cardboard and sleeping bag, it might cause him to return to the spot below my window. He stopped at the corner and plunked himself down, whereupon I took the items back upstairs. I first thought to follow him and attempt to set the bedding down by his new location–which may inspire him to move further up the street–but concluded that wasn’t the best tactic at this point in our latest skirmish.

Thanks to Deek’s early morning disruption, I had yet to brush my teeth and shave, so finally got around to it now that he’s moved to the corner and quieted down. Starting the day can sure be an uphill struggle when he’s around! But no sooner had I sat down and resumed listening to Marshall’s podcast, I heard Deek’s boisterous calls from down the block:


So I put on my sneakers, jacket and cap once again and stepped out to see him smashing his phone two or three times, upon the concrete. (Jeez, I thought, what fresh hell is this?)

“Do you have another music chip or a stick?” he requested in a frustrated tone.

By “stick” he meant a flash drive that his speaker could use…or maybe it had a slot for a micro SD card…or both. Seeing as, even though his smartphone uses a chip, it was unlikely it would function, ever again.

“Let me see,” I said while petting the pups. “I’ll be right back.”

I returned with both in less than two minutes, and handed them to him.

“I hope these work for you,” I said. “They both include your complete collection.”

I then quickly departed to return hovel, grateful he had calmed down so I could finally move on with my day, starting with a cup of Rosenberg’s java which I was planning to purchase over an hour before. But barely had a few minutes passed when I heard him yell “YO! YO! YO!” once again. So again I stepped out to see what’s wrong THIS time.

“Does this even have music on it, it won’t play?” he asked while holding the chip out to me.

I took it and said okay, I’ll check if it does, be back in a minute. Turns out it did, but I decided to bring him a different chip, after first inserting it into my laptop to be sure it contained all his songs. It did, so I brought it to him:

“The chip I gave you DOES have all your music on it, maybe your speaker for some reason didn’t recognize it. So here’s another chip to try. I hope it works, though I can’t promise since it’s the same brand.”

Before departing (which I attempted to do immediately) he declared: “IF I WERE STRAIGHT AND THESE DOGS WEREN’T WITH ME I’D BEAT YOU INTO THE GROUND!”

“Whatever,” I replied as I walked away while he spewed additional threats that I ignored, except with a few shrugs of my shoulders and outstretched arms in a “so be it” gesture, without turning to face him. Soon as I turned the key in the gate and entered, I no longer heard his voice, thank Glob. Though I did hear him call out one particularly hurtful accusation:


He really knows how to press my buttons, turn that knife in my back more than one full circle!

I resumed listening to the podcast for a few more minutes before deciding it’s finally time for my coffee…almost two hours later than usual!

“Great!” I thought. “He’s still out there and I’m gonna have to put up with his crap TWO more times…on my way to Rosenberg’s and back. Because there’s just no other route I can take to avoid him!”

But upon opening the gate and stepping out for the umpteenth time this morning, they had vanished. I looked up and down the street, across the street, and around the corner as I made my way towards Noe. Neither Deek nor the pups were anywhere to be seen, not even from a further distance in any direction!

And that is how my day started, Wattson, in misery and meanness. Though applying My Bodhisattva Premise, I allowed all such dark impressions Deek had cast into THIS star-crossed pilgrim’s world, to roll off my back like a happy little duck splashing in a pond. For I REFUSE to cave in to his horrid demands, or allow them to ruin my day…and continue to have FAITH in all things turning out spectacularly for My Cajun Monkey-On-My-Back and those exquisite hounds.

So I guess that was my latest challenge, now overcome. At which moment Deek saw fit to vanish, as his latest assignment was accomplished. Though I’m sure my guardians that be grant me the luxury of calling him a “stupid prick,” just to get this residual outrage off my chest.

I’m wondering if his egregious nature of late has anything to do with his possibly reducing his meth intake? Feeling super crappy is part of the early process. But I can only conjecture, I really have NO idea what’s going on with him since he’s landed that room or cabin. I DOUBT he’s faking THAT and returned to living on the streets, otherwise he’d have his shopping cart again, and not just some baby carriage…at least not for an extended period of time, which for him would be more than two days. AND he’d have acquired a much larger speaker by now, and other detritus. But the most OBVIOUS reason I believe he’s living indoors now is this:


And that one aspect alone may be THE major reason he’ll continue keeping a shelter and going through their program. Or at least, it’s certainly a big deal in his world. Though I’d like to think protecting his dogs counts for something, too. Unfortunate that he seems to value electronic crap over them.

As for “the shaman’s way,” it IS typical of them (at least in MOST variations of their practice) to harass, mock and scorn one who has achieved a phenomenally positive outcome after years of sacrifice and dedication. Instead of immediately patting the hero on the back and showering him (or her) with awards, gifts and gratitude. Which DOES come, eventually…but first the “initiation” of vile projections. How long this goes on I have no idea, though I’m sure the greater the accomplishment, the more lengthy and grueling the initiation. Conclusion:

This is what I conjecture is the cause of Deek’s increased antagonism since he acquired a roof over his head, and compassionate care. After my many years of reaching out to him, especially since he adopted the brindlekin.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: I came THAT close to calling the cops again!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 29, 2023 at 5:18 PM

> Glob help us….

Mr. Drama Queen.

Subject: After midnight, he’s sleeping outside with the pups!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 31, 2023 at 12:44 AM

Deek dropped by around 9:30 PM, asked me to charge his speaker. (He later acquired a second one about an hour later, in a barter up the block.) Smartphone’s gone I guess. It was a peaceful meetup…hopefully it will stay that way till he departs, which will probably be around sunrise or a bit later. Though he MIGHT wake me up at a wee hour instead, to get his devices. You never know with him, he loves to keep me in suspense…another trickster move.

I brought a large sheet of cardboard down, and two child-size orange sleeping bags while he stepped away for a time. He wasn’t upset at all when he returned, about my providing them with a nest. He wasn’t even bothered by my feeding them some treats, which I had hoped to finish before he got back, but I didn’t.

He zonked out around 11:30 PM, but before that his friend also named Deek (so let’s call him “Deek #2”) showed up for an hour or so. I returned upstairs to give them their space, happy that the dogs were cozy and warm.

When midnight came I went back downstairs to see if Deek was ready for me to return his speakers, but he was out cold, slumped way bent over his crossed legs, head almost touching his feet (typical meth-head posture). I talked for a few minutes with Deek #2, asked how he’s doing…he said well. And I replied, “You certainly look healthy!” And he DOES, good doctor, much better than last year…not so scrawny and wan looking. He’s one handsome mofo BTW.

Then I said to him: “Deek claims he’s got a room now, but he refuses to tell me where it’s located.”

“Yes he does!” he quickly replied, his face lit up.

“Great!” I said. “Is it a room or a cabin?”

“It’s a cabin, but it’s small.”

“Yeah I know they are. So…” I popped the $64,000 question: “is he staying at the 33 Gough shelter?”

“Yeah, and I”m close by, about a half block up.”

“That’s fantastic, glad to hear it!” I exclaimed sotto voce so as not to wake Deek up. (As if that would; he could sleep through an alien invasion, but I don’t want him to accuse me of talking behind his back, or hear Deek #2 reveal to me his address.) I then queried:

“It’s nice they let you be away up to forty-eight hours. That’s kind of them, since it’s hard to trust any organization when you’ve lived on the streets so many years. Do they have a curfew, or can Deek return any time? ‘Cause he said to me earlier he doesn’t feel like going back there tonight.”

“No, he can return any time, day or night,” he replied. Then he rummaged through a large bag dangling from his bicycle’s handlebars and pulled out a long, hooded blue garment. “Here, can you use a raincoat?”

It was a quality brand (Hollister, made in California) and, since I gave Deek my $16 poncho a few weeks back and it was the only rain gear I had, I said: “I sure can, thanks!”

We talked a little more, then I told him a joke I heard on Marshall’s latest podcast about a talking dog, wished him goodnight and returned hovel after making sure the hounds were still tucked in and protected from the chill night air.

Well, I’m goin’ to bed soon myself, Wattson. I’m sure you’re already in Dreamland, see ya there shortly. Just thought you’d be delighted to know he DID get a cabin at 33 Gough! I sure am.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

P.S.: There they are (see pic). Before hitting the sack I checked outside my window to see if both dogs were still covered. Flaco wasn’t, as she had moved atop both blankets to be closer to her master. So I stepped back outside to cover her with an old blue jacket Deek left behind some weeks ago, which I held onto for just this purpose.

Subject: Perfect meetup from start to finish!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 31, 2023 at 11:03 AM

Deek called up to my window at 6:55 AM. I looked out to see him lying on his back with a blanket over him and two puppy lumps huddled beneath it. He saw me then (I found it funny, his gazing up at me from that supine position) and said: “Bring my stuff down, I gotta go!”

It was actually not a bad time to wake me, since the call of nature does anyway, every morning around 7:15, after which I lie down again for maybe another half hour. When I delivered his electronics he was already standing up. He shook himself and exclaimed: “Brrr, it’s fuckin’ cold out here!”

Which remark he’s never made before on OTHER cold nights, so it piqued my curiosity. Seeing as he’s told me in the past that smoking meth keeps him warm. Does this mean he’s smoking less? Come to think of it, Wattson, I don’t think he broke out his bubble pipe even once, last night!

Needless to say, the hounds were not eager to leave their fluffy nest and resisted their master’s command to get up and go, but only for a few seconds since they’re so attuned to him with loving hearts.

He no longer had that baby carriage, but an oversized granny cart just like the last one I now have stashed in my room, for when he’ll need it again. They took off barely two minutes after I stepped outside to gather up the sleeping bags, jacket and cardboard. As I approached the front gate I turned my head to see them crossing Market Street instead of Noe, which I found strange because the simplest way to walk to 33 Gough is to remain on THIS side of the street and proceed forward three blocks, then turn left.

Is he going to remain outside and just park elsewhere (I thought)? But no, he stopped at the transit island to wait for the next streetcar. Flaco and Lucky looked so cute, sitting there beside their master in the garments I dressed them with last night: she, a maroon sweater, and he, a blue jacket with Velcro straps. They seemed quite accustomed to riding the transit as neither grew restless, but waited patiently for the streetcar to arrive, then immediately stepped inside as the door folded open. They leapt onto the front side-seats as Deek followed with his cart. Not a single bark or yelp outta them.

Off they went, I guess for breakfast at the shelter, as well as a warm and cozy, secure oasis. I bet the dogs are SO happy with their tiny cabin, and they have that patio to run around and bask in the sunlight when it’s there, and spread cheer to other residents. So off I went, too, back upstairs to take a hearty dump and pee, then sleep awhile longer. I felt aglow with joy as I lay there in the cot, thinking to myself:

“Now THAT was one excellent meetup from beginning to end!”

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

P.S.: Attached is a pic of that superb raincoat Deek #2 gave me last night, zippered pockets and all! BTW, slight correction in our dialog:

Deek #2: “Do you have a raincoat?”

Me (thinking he was asking for one): “Umm, no. Wait, yes, I have a few disposable ones upstairs, I can bring one down for…”

Deek #2: (pulling the rubberized garment from a bag): “Can you use this?”

Re: After midnight, he’s sleeping outside with the pups!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 31, 2023 at 1:15 PM

> That was some good fact-gathering! And discreet, too.

Well they don’t call me Zeke K-Holmes for nothing!

Deek #2 is the one who told me several years back that MY Deek asked him to kill someone for him. I believe he did, as #2 is NOT the compulsive liar like my trickster! Though I’d never share that juicy tidbit with him, just as I don’t OTHER unseemly things I know about him…even as vengeance against his maltreatment. Because such revelations would likely drive him away from me, as well as cause great damage towards his spiritual progress.

I don’t think Deek #2 (in all the seven-plus years I’ve known him) ever witnessed MY Deek’s rotten behavior towards me until eight days ago. That was “the dragon book incident,” which witnessing forced him to suppress an explosion of guffaws as he sat there quietly through it all. Not that I haven’t discussed with him a few times, Deek’s bipolar mood swings. And it was during one such talk he revealed Deek’s request that he blow someone away. Don’t know what upset Deek so much over this guy, though knowing his fickle moods so well, it could have been something as innocuous as telling him the weed or meth he sold him sucks.

I find it curious they both have the same name. Though applying My Bodhisattva Premise TO this question, I come up with:

“Deek #2 is his comrade in arms, though they keep this under wraps. In this way he serves as a witness to your many years of compassion towards Deek and the dogs. And explains why he’s shown up in your world again, in this latest cycle because it marks a major breakthrough, that is: finally getting a roof over his head. And all thanks to your own long suffering and patience over a great length of time, guiding him through his ordeals, beating back the demons who threaten to destroy him.”

Though I think THAT explanation is the lower level of TWO, the higher one being that Deek, as a bodhisattva angel himself, is merely PLAYING the role of one in great need of kindness and patience (he may not even be unhoused). And in so doing he shapes me into a HERO as I overcome one hurdle after another until I reach the finish line. Which explains his typically calm, amenable demeanor a day or two AFTER his latest (and most deplorable) hissy fit. For he did his job, accomplished what had to be done to get me through the latest step in my journey along life’s convoluted path.

Assuming I am correct (that Deek is a shaman, and there are other shamans living on the streets, or at least ACTing like they do), I must have gained quite an honorable reputation after so many decades of speaking out for the indigents of our queer community…and being of active SERVICE to them as well. This should eventually erupt into some kind of celebration, a transformation, a revolution if you will. I have a hunch it will be very soon at this point, since Deek is now housed and the pups are secured and joyful as a result. In other words:


What say YOU, good doctor? Hope you’re having another English muffin-y day. As for myself, they’ve run out, which is fine because I need to get around to start breaking fast with Ezekiel’s outstanding whole-grain-sprouted, flourless raisin bread. Which has been sitting in my freezer for more than two weeks now, until I took half a loaf out to thaw overnight, and enjoyed my first two slices this morning!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: After midnight, he’s sleeping outside with the pups!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 31, 2023 at 7:09 PM

It cost you blood, sweat, tears, bile and lymphatic fluid, but you did it!

Anything worth having is worth fighting for. So I fought, and you witnessed and cheered me along all the way from Day 1. Woo-hoo! I’m proud of us both.

> Alas, I eat my last Rudi’s tomorrow morning, and then must make do with Orowheat muffins for the nonce, which taste like sawdust by comparison, until I can get to the big city up the road for more Rudi’s.

Whatever happened to Amazon’s drone delivery? You folks up there need it NOW. Oh, they’re still working on it.

> How I wish somebody up here carried that raisin bread you insist on taunting me with…

Ezekiel Raisin Bread is BETTER than Alvarado Street’s, which is already stupendous…the raisins are plumper, the slices thicker and fluffier, the grains multiple and they’re SPROUTED…and it’s named after moi! Coincidence? I don’t think so…ancient alien theorists agree!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: My latest email from Carlyle
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 31, 2023 at 9:18 PM

Thought I’d share a short email from my friend out of Boston. Wait’ll you read the last paragraph!

From: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: On Tuesday, January 31st, 2023 at 3:17 PM
Subject: Re: Are Americans Psychopaths?
To: Ezekiel Krahlin

I think that Putin is probably doing more behind the scenes to undermine the United States and the West than hardly anyone realizes.

A lot of conservative cockroaches adore Putin in spite of his obvious murderous character, because 

1) he cozies up to Christians, like Trump, 
2) he is anti-gay, 
3) the American Right envies Russia as a "white" country, 
4) Putin helped Trump to power, 
5) the American Right wants a dictatorship like Putin's, not a democracy.

David Duke had an article entitled "Is Russia the key to White Survival?"

Putin needs to die. The Right that sucks up to him is fascist and treasonous.

Good luck with the lawsuit. Concerning the building manager, as Moms Mabley once said, "They say you shouldn't say nothin' about the dead unless it's good. He's dead. Good!"

Re: My latest email from Carlyle
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 1, 2023 at 8:23 AM

> Every word is perfect. Is this the same guy who was showing right wing tendencies a while back? Or am I thinking of someone else?

That’s someone else (Chuck of Philly). This is Carlyle Lambourne, my gay activist ally of many years, since 1997. I’ve shared with you before, now and then, a letter from him…but it’s been awhile since the last one.

> And is the building manager in fact dead?

There has been no notice posted anywhere in my building to that effect. It’s possible he’s still alive, but I haven’t seen hide or hair of him since that ambulance carted SOMEONE away, and I heard his voice answering medical questions from the floor above moments before that. IF he’s alive and returns, I can’t imagine him continuing as our manager, he was THAT deteriorated last bunch of times I saw him. Whether he’s dead or alive, we’re gonna get a new manager soon, in my estimate.

The suspense is killing me…like a slow motion grade-B horror flick while waiting for a pizza delivery.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Amazon groceries never arrived!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 1, 2023 at 10:52 AM

I checked outside my door, up and down the hallway, and downstairs in the lobby…plus right outside the building: ZILCH! So I reported that the groceries never arrived. I was even watching out for an Amazon van to park somewhere nearby; never saw one. So is my delivery sitting somewhere else, inside another building where the frozen goods are thawing out? Will I get reimbursed, or will they deliver a replacement? Amerika needs to know!

– Zeke K-Holmes


And when I stepped out to check the hallway, who should come trouncing up the stairs but the exterminator, wielding one of his trademark spray canisters! He asked if our maintenance man, Victor, spoke with me about another bedbug treatment. I said no he didn’t, so we agreed upon this Monday. I didn’t bother to ask him if the building manager is still in the hospital or has passed away ’cause I was NOT pleased to run into him (I never am). Victor has never before been responsible for dealing with pest issues BTW.

But here I was worried about my groceries, only to be stopped dead in my tracks for yet a SECOND misery. How’s THAT for a stupid start to my day?


Click here for a larger view.

Then, just a minute ago, Amazon slaps me in the face with a “promotional credit” for $2, which is USELESS to me since I am not subscribed to the services they list. Before I opened the email I assumed by the title it was a reimbursement for failed grocery delivery…boy am I the sucker! Well, they say bad luck comes in threes, so STOP IT ALREADY!

Re: Amazon groceries never arrived!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 1, 2023 at 1:01 PM

> Jeez. Brave New World.

Not without the soma! If they included that product on their virtual shelves they’d never hear another complaint from me…or anyone else. Amazon needs to get with the program and put that soma out there!

Subject: [MCN-Discussion]- GREAT news zeke !!
From: Spike Kozlowski
To: MCN discussion list
Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 17:46:30 -0800

I was in a bar in North Beach yesterday and met this BIG black guy who used to be an oil driller in Texas. As I was a fracker in Pennsylvania, we talked about the oil biz. I told him of this homosexual I heard of who was deliberately spreading AIDS to young black men in retaliation for a black guy giving him AIDS. This seemed to make him VERY angry. I gave him your address, room number and telephone number you were kind
enough to give me.

He said he and a friend were going to pay you a visit and have a talk with you about this. I gave him the number to my burner cell phone and asked him to leave a message as to how his visit and talk with you went. Now, you can print this and take it to any law enforcement agency or DA you want and see what they do.


You’ll get as far with that as Gurney’s repeated attempts to get me arrested and fired. Goodbye zeke. Back to the spam folder with you. The only reason I unblocked you was for the misogynist disrespect you treated Tanya with.

This has nothing to do with you being gay. It has to do with the fact you’re such a despicable excuse for a human being, you take delight in others having cancer. Same way your fuck buddy alvin said about my murdered nephew.

This is simply disgust over you two mentally ill homosexuals taking delight in the misfortune of others, then go running off playing your homophobia victim card when anyone says anything about just what pathetic, despicable excuses for human beings the two of you are.

Re: GREAT news zeke !!
From: George Dennis
To: MCN discussion list
Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 23:22:23 -0800

—>”This seemed to make him VERY angry.”

At first I thought the Black dude had become angry because some entitled Nazi skinhead had come up to him in a bar, and out of the blue “told him of this homosexual he’d heard of…” That would be enough to freak anybody out. But then to imagine Kuzlowski’s mark would be taken as stupid enough to buy into this felonious short-con – that would be enough to piss anyone off.

According to this dingbat story, it sounds like little spikey was lucky to get out of that bar alive, or at least without getting his dumb ass righteously kicked. To think the psychopath Spike Kuzlowski would think his cheap con/charade would be believable by anyone, much less acted upon, makes you truly question his sanity.

And to think Spikey’s fictitious felony would strike fear into his nemesis Zeke’s heart? A gay guy living on the edge in SF Land? What is the fixation? What twisted mind would create, much less publish, these openly threatening scenarios? Kind of makes you wonder what created a monster like the Mad Mr. Kuzlowski.

Subject: Just got this interesting email from my attorney…nothing to do with the lawsuit.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 2, 2023 at 8:11 PM

On Thu, Feb 2, 2023 at 3:28 PM Magdalena Elvensborn wrote:

> Good afternoon Mr. Krahlin, I hope you are doing well. If I remember correctly you told me once that you had issues with getting coverage for dental implants, is that right? What is your insurance again?

Hello, Ms. Elvensborn! I am doing quite well, thanks, hope you are too. Denti-Cal, part of the Medi-Cal program. I am now with the SF Health Care Plan. My concern is over the limitations on what kind of dental care I am eligible for. When I last looked (one year ago), Denti-Cal does not cover partial dentures, only full. So I would wind up having more teeth pulled, with even less in my mouth. Otherwise, so much oral surgery needs to be done at this point–thanks to the high share of cost that went on for over a decade and left me without any dental services–I don’t think I’d care for all the misery that would entail for many months, to restore my mouth.

But no, I’m not looking for dental implants, and I don’t think that’s covered anyway. I’d be more than happy with a decent set of choppers. However, it is policy under Denti-Cal to not pull any teeth that can be saved. I’d say I have maybe four teeth remaining that would qualify. But then I’d need partial dentures, which are not covered. I’d MUCH rather have all remaining teeth pulled and get full uppers and lowers. However, in light of all the surgery I’d also require, I’m not so sure I’d go through with it anyway, if I could get those teeth pulled and have full dentures.

So, it’s complicated to say the least. Thanks for your concern just the same.

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