zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT

January 19, 2021

Re: [MCN-Announce]- zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin MCN
To: MCN Announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 10, 2021 2:53 PM

On Sun, 10 Jan 2021 14:48:09 Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:

PLEASE all friends of z. please sign your name and be public that you are so easily fooled and parted from your money. you know, he’s counting it now. more than enough to take care of puppies. where do you think the excess is going? into whose pocket?

FYI Mr. Sack-o-Shit, my project is totally transparent, including all expenses accrued from my GoFundMe account. In fact, from my donation page you’ll find a link to these expenses, updated the same day each time a purchase is made, or a service rendered. But I’ll save you the trouble of visiting my GFM side, by providing my list of expenditures here:

http://gay-bible.org/gofundme/index.htm

I only accrued $450 in donations so far, and am now down to $249.57. So if I can’t drum up more interest ASAP, it will all be gone in a month or so, maybe sooner. Because the pooches suddenly lost their appetite, and I had to spend considerably more money on food, to figure out some way to restore their desire to eat. But even worse, is my Internet connection has suddenly started crapping out on me. First my DSL land line went dead and has yet to recover, and now my connection is increasingly sporadic. It’s probably a short caused by the rain leaking into the phone box in this very old and decrepit building. But my provider isn’t being very helpful about it, and screwing me over, thus far. In order to fight back, I posted the entire problem and their less-than-helpful responses, to my web log, here:

https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2021/01/10/chronic-dot-net/

They are the two complaints I sent to their support, which I’ve also reposted to their online forum, so other customers will become aware of their crude mistreatment towards me. Then I posted a link to that piece on my blog, to the ISP’s Twitter account, with the statement: “MAJOR problem with Sonic.net’s service!” I’ve also shared it with my own Facebook and Twitter accounts.

So you see, Mr. Sack-o-Shit, my writings, my dog rescue project, my growing success putting my wonderful tales out there, may soon all come crashing down, thanks to the shitty handling of my ISP. I’m sure at this point I’ve put a broad smile on your face. All good Germans are like that: slaking their thirst on the blood and suffering of decent people.


Re: [MCN-Discussion]- – zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Fred McMillon
To: Discussion MCN
Date: Mon, 11 Jan 2021 3:37

Why validate him by reading and responding to his posts ?

Unless you find amusement in his mental illness as I used to or want to see the depths a “human” can sink to.

I blocked him as his mental illness no longer amuses me and his obsession with me and cyberstalking was getting disturbing.

Sad the number of women Suckers he took here on the List with his “Save the Puppies!” Go Fund Me site.

He has no pride or shame AT ALL !


Re: [MCN-Announce]- zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN Announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 11, 2021 7:03 PM

On 2021-01-11 12:18, Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:

I dragged this out of the Spam folder.

I’m sure that’s not the ONLY thing you drag out of your spam folder! Woo-hoo!

I have an acquaintance who says $450 is not very much,

No, it sure isn’t; and I have TWO pooches, not one. And veterinarian expenses are a whole different ball game, going into the thousands…and even more, if surgery is required. So, I can’t take them to a vet unless I achieve a HUGE leap in donations, or until I finally make that breakthrough with my writing. I suspect, however, that BOTH will happen at the very same time. I just might open a SECOND GoFundMe account for publishing and other expenses (like travel, and promotional tools) to get this off the ground. However, I believe my talents as an author are so profound any more, they will soon skyrocket me to fame, money and a lovely castle in Scotland.

but keep working your grift,

If “grift” is what you insist on calling it, Mr. Sack-o-Shit, then we MUST qualify that word with the adjective “angelic.”

it will give you something.

Yes, it will keep my mind off my heron addiction…a very expensive habit you know, as they are pricey birds to tend!

Meanwhile you have doggies.

Yes, meanwhile I do. They have read some of your nasty remarks addressed to yours truly, and simply advise me to pay you no mind. These are a couple of VERY stable mutts.

She also said give you a break cause you are disabled.

Borderline schizophrenia and bipolarity, with a whopping dose of PTSD thrown in. I wouldn’t wish any of this on my worst enemy except, perhaps, you! So my disability is NOT visible…thus why I suffer the additional burden of hateful prejudice, which only makes my PTSD worse, not better. Thus making the struggle enormously more difficult than need be. I have long ago concluded that the sickness lies not in me, but in society at large. Were that not the case, there’d be NO war, poverty, bigotry, or even Donald Trump and people just like him…or like you, I should add.

But because my borderline condition is of such a nature, I can forge ahead as an author and activist, which includes speaking out for others so beset with so-called “mental illness,” who are not capable of standing up for themselves…often because our cruel medical system persecutes them and uses them for laboratory experimentation, a.k.a. as “guinea pigs.” I am their guardian, so to speak…through my words.

May I remind you, Mr. Sack-o-Shit, that schizophrenia and bipolarity are far more common among geniuses and creative types. So it’s not all bad…in fact, if you can get a handle on it (especially withOUT any medications involved) you’d be amazed at how powerful and liberated you become! Carl Jung describes it as one’s own heroic journey: and my own personal experience of many years’ struggle stands the test of time: that Dr. Jung nailed it!

I replied that you may be disabled, but that hasn’t stopped you from insulting at every opportunity. I’m not a good German or a Nazi,

You certainly fit the profile, Mr. Sack-o-Shit. I am only pointing that out. How can stating something that’s true, be an insult, you scum-sucking, heartless Nazi reprobate? You would not be the FIRST “good German” to swear up and down and left and right, that he or she is NOT a Nazi, nor holds any sentiments WITH their diabolical ideology. Then they go right ahead with their daily chores–sweeping, fence mending, hanging freshly washed clothing out to dry, and gardening (which seems to be YOUR great joy in life)–pretending those are just cows, not terrorized Jewish folks, in those cattle cars passing by their quaint, Bavarian style cottages and on their way to be slaughtered.

but if your internet problems will make you act more human, praise be. sachs

If by “internet problems” you mean my new headache of my ISP failing to rectify the sudden deterioration of connection…than I say no, it doesn’t make me act more human. In fact it makes me act more like one of H.P. Lovecraft’s Older Gods, such as Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep or Azathoth. And you DON’T want to meet up with any one of them, I assure you! However, they’ve just informed me they have a special place for you in their own garden (you like gardening, I gather) composed of such bizarre, meat eating plants, they put rabid hyenas to shame!

After all is said and done, though, I thank you PROFUSELY from the bottom of my heart, for your $100 donation. I will spend it wisely…canine-wisely, that is. Woof!


Re: life
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Arnie Worster
Date: January 11, 2021 5:17 PM

Hi Zeke

Thank you for the tour of your hovel. It was a sobering experience for me to say the least. That and your video of Deek reminded me of how little I have to complain about up here in Little River (not that I am a big complainer).

I told you quite some time ago that I appreciated your wit and intelligent “rants” on the list serve, and have found somewhat amusing the reactions it has elicited from time to time from some of the other participants.

Thanks for taking care of those two furry souls, I hope that very little repercussions happen in your life as a result of your generosity.

I know it’s not much given our different stations in life, but I made a small contribution to your GoFundMe account.

Take care

Wow, you rock, Arnie! And I remember your posting me that compliment, which was a year or so ago, but I didn’t know about it, and only read it two weeks back. So I finally got around to thank you, in a reply. Thank you for your very kind words, and the donation. Just to ease your mind: I doubt very much I will run into any serious repercussions…but believe me, if I do, I will mop up the scumbags in their own excreta! I am gaining allies.


Re: Simon
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Arnie Worster
Date: January 11, 2021 7:10 PM

This is my fireball rescue

What a darling! He has Yoda ears, just like my Wiley! There is nothing so beautiful and fulfilling than saving a dog’s life by adopting one. They are a treasure in this world…truly man’s best friend. My two pups are presently sprawled out on the cot, looking as content and happy as can be. The feeling’s mutual.


Re: Simon
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Arnie Worster
Date: January 11, 2021 7:32 PM

I should have proofread better. Furball.

Ha! Hilarious…I thought you rescued him from a fire. Sweetest little doggie face ever.


Re: [MCN-Announce]- tSACH’S NAZI NIPPLE
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN, Discussion MCN
Date: January 11, 2021 7:48 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 20:10:32 -0800 Fred BOOGALOO McMillon squoinked:

His ignorance of the law is apparent by his setting himself up for a libel suit.

You are truly The Mother Of All Drama Queens, Mr. Psychobitch. You’re due for your next douching BTW, according to your toxic cleansing consultant…and a deep enema ablution, as well! Woo-hoo!


Re: [MCN-Announce]- you can read the most stupid, self serving B.S from Terry Sack-o-Shit
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 13, 2021 4:54 PM

On Sun, 10 Jan 2021 12:37:54 -0800 Rob Villanova posted:

You have a cold, cold heart, Mr. Sachs. Shame on you.

So cold, vaccine makers preserve batches of COVID-19 antigens with it!


Re: [MCN-Announce]- you can read the most stupid, self serving B.S from Terry Sack-o-Shit
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 13, 2021 6:03 PM

On Sun, 10 Jan 2021 12:29:25 -0800 Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:

Not it’s not Trump, but our old friend from the Spam folder, the zEEKster. Try out one of his puppy drivels. Still fooling ’em. Don’t stop now.

What are you trying to prove, Mr. Sack-o-Shit? Because the only thing you’ve proven so far is just what a nasty, little homunculus of a schmuck you are! You are fast becoming the shame of the Emerald Triangle…like the Wicked Witch of the West. Woo-hoo!


Re: [MCN-Discussion]- – tSACH’S NAZI GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN Announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 13, 2021 6:53 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 15:19:31 -0800 Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:

A lot of “friends” said that before. He was supposed to go away if ignored.

News flash: I never signed no stinkin’ contract, Mr. Sack-o-Shit!

I’ve found recently that many accept him because they haven’t read his continual B.S.

And you have? Now why IS that, Sack-o-Shit, since you claim to abhor what I post?

Go ahead, please block me and stay unaware of his damage/words.

FYI Mr. Sack-o-Shit: my (what you call) “damage/words” are in the process of healing many, as they spread outward like a bud swirls open. Not bad for a 70 year old, ex-hippie dropout and stalwart opponent of the status quo, eh?

I’ll continue to do as I like when it comes to posting.

IOW: you’ll continue beating your head against the wall, even when the blood starts to flow. Got it.

Ain’t you somethin’ else, Mr. Sack-o-Shit. But please, tell me this:

Whenever you get up on the wrong side of the bed, is it the devil’s face you first see, or is it your own…or is there really any difference in your case?


Re: [MCN-Discussion]- – tSACH’S NAZI GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN, Announce MCN
Date: January 13, 2021 7:12 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 23:23:28 +0000 Mel Slaughter posted:

But with cojones they would first ban Spike Dewars and Fred McMillon who are far more toxic than anyone else.

“First?” So, you’re implying I should be THIRD on the list of people to be banned? That sounds about as wild as a 3-year-old orangutan in a go-kart, traversing its way around Times Square during rush hour!


Re: [MCN-Discussion]- – tSACH’S NAZI GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: Fri, 15 Jan 2021 08:47:22 +0000

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 23:49:46 +0000 Alvin Hock posted:

Mental Midget Gerard Randall Kozlowski, green with envy and using the fake name Fred McMillon, posts “Sad the number of women Suckers he took here on the List with his “Save the Puppies!” Go Fund Me site.”

Assuming you’ve read my posts here on the bodhisattva nature, you know I have concluded that Mr. Kozlowski IS one, who plays my enemy. This benefits me in two ways:

  1. I am challenged to find ways to stand up to him that are as compassionate as possible…and in so doing I am wiser and stronger for it.
  2. I wouldn’t have gotten as many donors from the MCN crowd, had he NOT insulted and threatened me in such a vile manner. One list subscriber has donated a whopping $50 out of empathy for what I’m having to put up with from him.

Yes, Zeke got more help than you have or will with your fascistic filth.

And his surliness has helped me drum up MORE donations than I would’ve received otherwise. Not that there’s anything wrong with your calling him to the carpet for his Nazi rants, but they HAVE benefitted me considerably, in that backdoor fashion. And I believe this is the case with anyone else who has purposely harassed me, such as Terry Sachs and Tom Cooper.

This is based on the philosophy that we have no enemies, only teachers…and is what Buddha extrapolated upon. IOW: my meditating on this attitude, and practicing it, has begun reaping rewards for me in spades. It actually creates a win/win situation ALL THE TIME for the lucky person who practices such a benevolent ideology.


Re: – tSACH’S NAZI GRIFT
Date: Fri, 15 Jan 2021 6:07 PM
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 15:37:23 -0800 Fred BOOGALOO McMillon squoinked:

I blocked him as his mental illness no longer amuses me

That fact that you claim to be amused by another person’s mental illness only serves to expose you as a rather disturbed and wicked person, Mr. Psychobitch. Is there some sort of contest up there in Mendoland, to become the “Most Obnoxious Resident of the Year?” Because if so, you’ve already won by a long shot, IMNSHO!

and his obsession with me and cyberstalking was getting disturbing.

False accusations indeed! Nonetheless, thanks immensely for your generous donation to my GoFundMe “Help Me Help 2 Homeless Doggies” project. Very kind of you…not many donors give me a whopping $100…more like $20. In fact, you’re the only one so far. <3 <3 <3


Re: zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN, Discussion MCN
Date: January 16, 2021 2:09 PM

UPDATE ON DOGGIE DONATIONS AND THEIR MOST POSITIVE IMPACT

About a week ago, some kind donor delivered unto this humble monk’s cell (that is now also an emergency canine triage clinic for two lovely pups), a 30-pound bag of kibble. Which is low priority these days, because I already have another huge bag of the stuff still unopened, and the bag that IS already open, is barely half empty! I’m guessing he or she did not bother to check the priority level of that item, especially since Amazon doesn’t load “highest to lowest” by default; instead, you have to select that from the drop-down list. Now that I’ve altered their diet to resolve their diminished appetite, I only use ONE handful of the kibble per meal, instead of two, So I suppose I now have around a five-month supply of kibble instead of two or three! Maybe I should remove it entirely from the list for awhile. Wait, I just came up with a better method: I’ve just typed at the top of the comment box beside it: “NO NEED TO PURCHASE THIS ITEM UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.”

Their meals are now composed of the kibble mixed in with half-a-can of wet dog food each, and a generous crumbling of those rather-expensive-but-they-go-crazy-over-them leather treats (from Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store just around the corner, Artemis bless ’em) made of boar, deer, bison, turkey, pig or chicken (and they love ALL the flavors, so I just mix ’em together, as each is the same price, $3.25 per ounce…which cost I deduct from my GoFundMe account). As a result, they are ready to pounce on their gourmet bowl of yummies every time I serve them up, which is twice a day…so far, so wonderful!

Anyway, just moments ago after returning from Rosenberg’s with a piping fresh cup of Arabica in my hands, I saw two large boxes in the lobby. Well, not quite true, because they were already there since last night, but I didn’t bother to check the address on either one. So I did just that, finally, to discover that ONE of them was for me, with large block letters that said HEAVY.

So I lugged it upstairs and into my hovel; upon opening I discovered a VERY generous assortment of doggie items:

  • 2 12-can cartons of Pedigree dog food
  • 1 box of 270 doggie poop bags
  • 2 high quality dog leashes
  • A 40-ounce bag of Top Chews’ Sausage Bites
  • 2 22-ounce spray bottles of Woolite Sanitizing Pet Stain & Odor Remover
  • 2 raincoats with duck design
  • 2 sweaters

What a great start to January 16th, a day I recently predicted could be a momentous one, not just for myself, but the entire Castro District, if not the whole city! Surely this sunrise treasure is but the first trickle of an unexpected downpour later on in the day. Meanwhile:

Upon entering the lobby this morning with coffee in hand–and before inspecting the two packages–here comes Monsieur Bond the building manager (and willful accomplice to a crime still in progress against yours truly) wobbling down the stairs and showing his age, which I believe is around seventy-five. I just stand there, observing him proceed in my direction: ginormous white mask covering more than half his face from the chin up, and strapped to his ears (no doubt prescribed by some witch doctor, to prevent his jaw from dropping off entirely, and out of which fly winged worms of malice), as I await my turn to use the stairway. Once he reaches a sort of planetary conjunction to my own heavenly body, I softly mumble “hi,” and (as to be expected) he does the same.

“He has NO idea what’s comin’ down the pike two or three days from now,” whispers the little pterodactyl ghost in my ear, referring to my letter to the landlord that I mailed out just four days ago. Though perhaps they HAVE received it, considering that several days have already passed. Though neither he nor any other party involved has given me any SIGN they have…at least, not yet.

Though I HAVE conjectured this may very well be as intended, in that Kevin, Myrtle and Adisa (her son) and friends have actually SET THE WHOLE THING UP in order to pave the way for a heroic victory on my part. And that even Ablahblah Realty is in on it! Thus, they are all most likely laughing their asses off right now, at my expense (God bless ’em).

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Announce]- – zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 18, 2021 1:17 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 14:25:49 -0800 Peter Havrilchak squoinked:

PLEASE do not post responses to ZEEK or other trolls to the Announce list.

I am not a troll; you’re just a nasty person.

Like many others I have blocked ZEEK’s emails.

Many others? Let’s see the numbers, you tired old fart! Probably not even close to ten percent.

If you keep posting responses to his trolls I will have no choice but to block you too.

You will have no choice, huh? Is someone holding a gun to your head? Honestly, you’d be doing a favor for every person you block…they’d no longer have to DEAL with your dumb replies.

I don’t want to see his crap in any form.

Easy peasy, just take that spoon out of my toilet…go find free meals elsewhere.

If MCN management had any cojones they would ban ZEEK from posting to MCN lists. He’s a waste of time and bandwidth.

You wouldn’t know cojones if they bit you in the keister, you crotchety old pill popper, you. Methinks you need to increase your daily intake of Metamucil and soft boiled slugs. Woo-hoo!


Re: [MCN-Announce]- tSACH’S NAZI GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN Announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 18, 2021 2:53 PM

On Sun, 10 Jan 2021 14:17:01 -0800 Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:

Apparently, zEEK now owns the two previously homeless dogs.

Apparently I do, as it declares in chapter 19 of my Brindlekin tales.

Maybe eventually he’ll start paying for his own pets like millions of others do daily.

Eventually I will, but for awhile longer I can NOT afford to care for them out of my own low income, which is solely Social Security. Believe me, nonetheless a considerable chunk of that income DOES get spent to support my lovely brindlekin. So I’m off to a good start: getting them off the streets, and the accompanying misery of bitter-cold weather, rain, and their owner who was starting to abuse them with increasing force and frequency. They are now VERY happy to share this humble room with me, and, best of all, the building manager loves the doggies, too, and appreciates my courage and fortitude in rescuing them. As, apparently, do most of the residents in my building. I have put my LIFE at risk, in order to accomplish this, you crap-for-brains dingbat!

Once the moolah starts rolling in (and it will) from the rapidly increasing popularity of my tales and videos, I will then be able to drop my GoFundme and Amazon Doggy Wish List projects. But I must say: your attempts to sabotage what I consider to be a SACRED mission, speaks mountains about what an utterly horrid and despicable meat-head you are, Mr. Sack-o-Shit!


Re: [MCN-Announce]- tSACH’S NAZI NIPPLE
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 18, 8:19 PM

On Sun, 10 Jan 2021 15:02:35 -0800 Sandi Costerman posted:

What’s your problem, Terry? Keep your hatred to yourself. Find a hobby. Go for a walk. Leave him alone.

Hilarious. If you paid attention to a recent post of mine, I described him and some surly others as my “bodhisattvas” (or “guardian angels”) who willfully play the role as enemy…that I may, in standing up to them, shine brightly as a hero. Mr. Sack-o-Shit is actually a GREAT human being, and we’re just having some fun at each other’s expense. But when I hurl the crap back, he instantly turns it into fertilizer for his garden. That’s a gift not many have…though King Midas came close. Imagine if you could do that yourself: no more having to flush toilets! In fact, I can’t WAIT for his next nasty “I-hate-Zeke” remark, just so I can figure out yet aNOTHER witty bon mot. Bring it on, Mr. Sack-o-Shit!

PS: I also guess it’s his way of drumming up more donations for my doggie rescue project, as another on this list has already contributed $50 to my GoFundMe account, in retaliation for Mr. Sack-o-Shit’s apparent (but not at all real) meanness. Maybe you’ll be next, Sarah? Ha, ha. There’s a method to his madness!

For kindly standing up for my cause, I grant you the loveliest dreams over the next seven nights. Totally G-rated of course: no sex, violence, drugs or rock’n’roll! With or without extra cowbell.


Subject: Did you see tSACH’S “zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT” posts?
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 18, 2021 9:31 PM

Two of them so far, in the announcement list. Hilarious! I already got a donation from another list member, as a result. Mr. Sack-o-Shit’s attacks are backfiring!


Re: [MCN-Announce]- zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 18, 8:32 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 18:01:04 -0800 R A Ayers squoinked:

I’m with Peter on this one.

Because you’re an asshole, too. Nothing to be proud of, my dear. My words perfectly separate chaff from wheat. Whatever ugly sins you’re hiding from the world, I don’t wanna know. Maybe you should lighten up and watch this funny Youtube video:


Re: [MCN-Announce]- – zEEK’S PUPPY GRIFT
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Announce MCN
Date: January 19, 2021 9:55 PM

On Mon, 11 Jan 2021 19:40:49 -0800 Rocky Hymen squoinked:

Me 2

Rack ’em up, Beelzebub, with your little helper, Terry Sack-o-Shit! Woo-hoo!


One Picture is Worth a Thousand Heart Throbs

January 17, 2021
Taco is on the left. Click here for a larger image.

No story, just a sweet photograph. What the hey: I’ve tossed in ten short videos for your further muttly pleasure.


Title: Not a Good Idea

These pups don’t really have any doggy toys to play with, so I try to come up with items that they like to chew on, and are safe. This one didn’t work out. But look how cute Wiley’s ears are! I sometimes call her “My little Yoda.” And check out those laser eyes: she’s got super-powers! Notice I inadvertently called Taco “Lucky,” because that’s his real name…which I changed in my work-in-progress, “Brindlekin Tales.” Wiley’s real name is “Flaco,” which is Spanish for “skinny,” and pronounced “flah-koh.”


Title: Some Harnesses are Just Good to Chew on

Twelve of these orange harnesses (with leashes) were left behind about a year ago, at some SPCA event here in San Francisco. This was back before Deek adopted Wiley, but already had Taco for seven months. The harnesses turned out to be a loose fit, and couldn’t be adjusted. But they also came with leashes that were very good… but have since been all used up. I still have these harnesses stashed away in a bag on my loft. So I thought today, maybe they’d like to use them for chew toys, and that is exactly what they did.


Title: When Lucky Doesn’t Wanna Eat

It’s rare when Lucky isn’t hungry, but when he really doesn’t want to eat, he lets you know in the clearest way possible! He’ll even knock over the dish, if I don’t take it away. This is totally unrelated to the two pups’ recent and simultaneous sudden loss of appetite that lasted for almost five days, but was finally resolved with a slight change in their diet. Please note I’ve been calling him “Taco” when he was owned by someone else…for book publishing purposes. Now, I’m dropping the pseudonym, since I’m his new guardian, as I am also for Flaco, whose fake name was Wiley.


Title: Play-Fighting (1 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!


Title: Play-Fighting (2 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!


Title: Play-Fighting (3 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!


Title: Play-Fighting (4 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!


Title: Post Play-Fighting (1 of 3)

Check out Lucky’s teeth…they remind me of that cartoon doggy character Mr. Peabody’s teeth!


Title: Post Play-Fighting (2 of 3)

Are they calling it quits, or do they feel imposed upon by my camera? They certainly don’t mind pooping in front of the entire world.

Title: Post Play-Fighting (3 of 3)

Jus’ chillin’!



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 (part 1)

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, Adisa(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 Adisa’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 Adisa’s friends who’ve been hanging out in the hallway at least once a week for months. Myrtle’s son, Adisa, 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 Adisa, 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 Adisa. 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 Adisa 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 Adisa’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 Adisa 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:

‘TIS ANOTHER GAMEBOARD BATTLE OF THE BODHISATTVAS THAT HAS COMMENCED!

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.

TARA, THIS IS TREMENDOUS, WHAT’S COMING DOWN THE PIKE, AND VERY SOON AT THAT!



ADDENDUM

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 Chronic.net 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”)!

!dcfecxsrgggggg-=]
(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, Adisa, 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 Adisa from going down a bad path, which you 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: “Adisa 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 “tinyurl.com/brindlekin,” 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 in rather extraordinary detail, the stupendously benevolent outcome of my standing up to Ablablah et al! And now, good reader, I share it all with you:

The attorneys for Ablablah will summarily offer me a most handsome sum in hopes of averting an actual lawsuit as well as a SCANDAL, which they KNOW I’ll win. They’ll suggest half a million while I stand firm at TWO million, reminding them that the offense committed can gain me at LEAST five million…but that I may decide to take this to the barrister anyway, in light of the apparent necessity of ensuring the preservation of ALL lives at 9666 Market Street. IOW: the real issue is not money at all, but life itself. So they commiserate amongst themselves for several minutes, then turn to me and say “Okay.”

“Just a moment there, lackeys,” I respond. “I’ve suddenly changed my mind and upped the ante to TEN million dollars, PLUS ownership of the ENTIRE premises, including the shops below.”

They act truly startled at this point (such being the role of top notch thespians: to appear totally convincing), but wind up concluding that is what they’ll have to do, considering my threat to turn this into a citywide–nay, statewide and nationwide–scandal. Within three more days, all papers are drawn up, signed and delivered unto Ezekiel J. Krahlin, raconteur extraordinaire. But I decide to go ahead anyway, and turn it into a scandal by posting a hot news tip to the LGBT newspapers (the Bay Area Reporter and the SF Bay Times) as well as to the San Franshitsco Examiner, the San Franshitsco Chronicle, and KGO radio news. Thus, the scandal takes wing across not just the entire city, or the entire state, or the entire nation…or even across the entire planet! For word of this stunningly egregious scandal spreads even further, to the distant stars of the Milky Way Galaxy and beyond. At this point the attorneys realize that they, along with ALL persons associated with Ablahblah Realty, are massively boned. Accusing me of breaking the contract because I blew the whistle against the signed agreement that I will definitely NOT do that, will accomplish nothing (they have wisely concluded) thanks to so many eyes upon them, including the slimy, all-knowing, pitch-dark God-of-the-Dead-Now-Reanimated BUGG-SASH with eyes more numerous than the grains of sand on Baker Beach!

So many incredible achievements will spin off from this Boon of Great Proportion, that I must save describing them for another time. Except to note that ONE result will be an unprecedented outpouring of gifts and monies for my homeless doggy project, so much so that I will easily be able to set up my “Bay Area Homeless Pet Foundation,” which will include HOUSING homeless people with pets immediately. Rapidly followed by a separate foundation for housing ALL those lacking a roof over their long-suffering heads.

Gasping with astonishment after hearing this mega-profound outcome of my good works, I managed to choke out these words without collapsing into a swoon:

“Enough! Enough! Thank you, but I do not possess your cold blood, that would allow me to absorb such exciting news on an intergalactic level…”

“InterDIMENSIONAL as well,” interjected Pterry.

“All right,” I retorted, as my right hand suddenly slipped from the window sill, causing me to almost drop to the concrete below. “Such exciting news on an intergalactic AND interdimensional level, that I beg of you, PLEASE let’s get back down to earth, the air is awfully thin up there!”

“Very well, my fine unfeathered friend,” cackled the glimmering pterosaur in a whistling sort of way. “Let’s get back to the nest and wrap things up. I have one final tidbit of good news to convey…and it is QUITE down to earth! In fact, it’s so down to earth you may need to wear galoshes, as it’s also begun to rain!”

It was only when she uttered that last sentence that I realized I was already soaked from head to upper torso; no wonder my hand slipped!

Pterry paused a moment as I stabilized my position against the window frame: “Okay, Mr. Krahlin: this is definitely a near-future development…one which will please you considerably!”

“Yes, yes, what is that, exactly? PLEASE continue!” I egged her on (an easy thing to do, in light of her ovoid origin).

“Ahem,” she preceded for emphasis. “Ablahblah Realty 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 Adisa 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 for a larger 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 Chronic.net 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):

http://www.gay-bible.org/blogstuff/2021A/landlord-letter.rtf

Please note my DSL land line is presently dead, for more than a week now, and Sonic.net, 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 Sonic.net issue which they are failing to resolve at this time. I have no other phone.

Meanwhile, I now have werewolves taking over my hovel:


Subject: The 16th was uneventful…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 16, 2021 11:24 PM

…which may be a good thing, as it’s been four days since I mailed my letter to the landlord, the manager, and the offending resident, yet not a peep! But maybe the letter won’t arrive till Monday. As for today, I DID mark a milestone of my first expense using my GoFundMe debit card. However, it was not a simple process, though it should have been. I first needed to activate the card by either phoning a number and punching the right buttons, or just go to a store and use my PIN. I first tried the phone number, but all I got was an automated response from a health insurance company! Maybe I misdialed by one digit? I don’t know, I didn’t wanna bother, as it would be much easier to just punch in my PIN…or so I thought.

So this afternoon I told the doggies I’d be right back, and traversed around the corner to Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop, and selected a generous portion of leather treats of various fauna, then went to the register. Alas, their system rejected my card, because they didn’t have any process where you have to first use the PIN. I told the cashier this makes no sense; she suggested I need to use a credit card, not a debit card…but I told her here’s the card I’ve been using all along…and withdrew my regular debit card from my wallet. So, no, your store accepts debit cards; I just don’t think you’re familiar with the PIN requirement when one gets a new card, can you call your supervisor or manager?

This was after we tried all possible combinations so graciously offered by their electronic cash system. So the manager listened to her explanation, which was completely off-base. I explained once more that a new debit card requires you to tap in your PIN in order for it to activate…and that’s why your system is rejecting it. Nowhere along the line does it step up to the plate and ask for my PIN. The manager then asked to look at my card, and, after she spent about twenty seconds examining it, pointed to the removable label with a phone number I could call, in lieu of using my PIN at a store.

“See this?” she sagely opined.”You can activate your card by calling this number.”

“No I can’t,” I replied, “I already tried that, and I get a health insurance company instead of Chase. I have never had a problem using my PIN at any store before, with a new card.”

It was obvious to me they hadn’t a clue as to what I was talking about…I guess because waving a smartphone over an electronic eye is all they ever learned! So I sighed and said hold onto my package, I’m gonna go down the street and purchase something with this card, which will require me to type in the PIN. Of course, that meant I needed to spend an additional ten dollars to get the ball rolling, as the corner store where Les works, has that as a minimum amount to pay with your credit or debit card. And (better yet) the purchase had to be something canine related. What does that place sell for dogs except dog food? Something which I am presently up to my ears in, thanks to the generosity of donors to my Amazon Doggy Wish List. So, dog food it had to be, anyway, and I wound up buying eight cans of it.

But my card didn’t work the first time around, their system claiming it was not the correct PIN! Fortunately, the second time was the charm. Then I marched on back to Jeffrey’s to finally buy more of those leather treats Taco & Wiley love so much, and which saved the day by putting an end to their hunger strike. Upon reentering I told the cashier, now it’ll work, just wait and see! (I was still peeved that she made an uneducated guess that I need to use a REAL credit card…a stupid thing to say, though conveniently expedient from HER side of the counter. The payment went through like a greased eel up Donald Trump’s anus. Before departing I told the not-too-bright woman that this is a pivotal moment in my life, because it is the first transaction I’ve made with my new GoFundMe debit card. Then I explained a bit about my homeless doggies project, and that all she has to do to read my tales about it, is search Google for “brindlekin.” Then she made aNOTHER lame comment:

“You DO know don’t you, that brindle is just the color of the fur, and not a breed?”

I was ready to smash her head bloody into the keys of the register, but thought better of it, and replied: “Oh I had no idea; that sure is an eye opener!” and vamoosed outta there to get some smart air into my lungs.

Yet two more Amazon packages had arrived by the time I returned hovel: two doggie raincoats with little ducks imprinted all over them, and two doggie sweaters. Unfortunately, the raincoats were way too large, but I wish I had bothered to take a snapshot of Lucky dressed in one of them! He looked so damned forlorn, with the hood reaching far over his head so you wouldn’t even know it was there.

And the sweaters were super-tiny, even though I had provided the large size via the link you click on, in that wish-list page. So now the items are back in their fat, bubble-lined pouches, waiting to be returned by UPS just six or seven doors west of my domicile. Once Amazon receives them, they will credit me with $75 in the form of a gift card. I hate wasting some kind person’s good money! I’ll get the RIGHT sizes with it.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot: earlier this evening, that scraggly homeless lady with hardly any teeth left (called “Pippin,” and whom I’ve seen quite regularly hanging out with Deek) passed me by while exclaiming I’m gonna get the shit beat outta me for stealing his dogs! I tried to get her to stop a moment and take a gander at the video of our verbal contract, but what would be the point if she did? The woman’s way too schizophrenic to be of any use in squelching Deek’s badmouthing me across the street-people-scape. But I’m not worried about it, as I’m too schizophrenic myself to NOT act like a rabid hyena with a chip on its brisket should someone look at me the wrong way, when it comes to my brindlekin!

So that’s January 16th for me: an utter disappointment overall, but I have these sweet pooches that make everything wonderful, no matter what. And this surprise pile of packages from kindhearted donors certainly didn’t hurt! And I got my phone back now, and most of my Internet speed. And all’s quiet on the Western Front regarding Adisa’s maskless punks loitering in the hallways. But tomorrow’s Sunday, the day they have always shown up…so I’ll just have to wait and see. I just might give ’em a piece of my mind and let the fur fly! Or just call the police about strangers wandering around in my building, and not wearing masks.

Funny how the world has changed! One used to be quite tremulous over strangers wearing masks on one’s premises, but nowadays you’re even MORE fearful if they DON’T. It also makes me think: “Gee, we’re all Muslims now!” But one good thing that comes out of wearing a mask–at least for me, that is–is that no one gets to see my ugly, rotten teeth. I’m just like everybody else, now!

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Letter to the Landlord (my latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: January 17, 2021 11:04 AM

On Fri, 15 Jan 2021 08:27:40 -0500 Fake an Ogre <gettinridofcrap@geemail.com> squoinked:

So what this letter tells me is that you are an intolerant racist. No more. No less. Fuck right off you racist fascist.

Aha, I see you’ve chosen the “Play the Ignoramus” card, Mr. Psychobitch! Surely you must have a terribly weak hand to opt for THAT despicable move. I don’t give a flying fuck WHAT color the skin (including white): if they are hanging out in the hallway of a residential building where they do NOT reside, causing noise disruptions as well as not wearing a mask, they are breaking some pretty damn serious laws. And if YOU’RE the most exposed to their arrogance, you really SHOULD move forward with a complaint to the property owner, and then press charges if you do not get prompt results. They are potentially exposing EVERYONE in the building to a deadly virus…so playing the racist card does NOT work in this case. But even if we weren’t in a pandemic, there is NO REASONABLE EXCUSE to hang out in the hallway of a residential building where they do not belong, and being a noise disturbance and public nuisance on top of that. The person most responsible for this offense is the mother of the boy who’s bringing them into the building, but keeping them out of HER apartment because, you know, coronavirus…yet allowing others in the building to be exposed to these maskless clowns. She did NOT ask me, or any other neighbor, if they would mind…she just foisted them upon us. My conclusion:

You know very well they are breaking the law in more ways than one, but since the main victim of their crime is yours truly, you decided to play the Ignoramus card. A poor move under any circumstance…then again, one who is TRULY an ignoramus, would find playing that card a flattery to the ego. Thus: your Invisible Fortress is now revealed. But I guess you don’t care, because you already lost this game (Battle of the Bodhisattvas) many moves ago.


Re: The 16th was uneventful…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 12:22 PM

{{ I was ready to smash her head bloody into the keys of the register, but thought better of it, and replied: “Oh I had no idea; that sure is an eye opener!” and vamoosed outta there to get some smart air into my lungs. }}

Those paragraphs right there made me laugh out loud.

Thanks, that was my goal! However, I fear the workers at that shop may be offended. But what price humor? I’m discovering my writing style and choice of characters and urban locale seem to be a blend of O’Henry and Runyon. I’m very much attracted to that literary era of this nation: late 1890s through the 1930s. Do you see that, too…or something else, or more? Your insight is more objective than mine could ever be, regarding my own talents. But what an incredible spurt of creativity since late October…I can readily acknowledge that at this point in my life, I am truly an artist of a VERY high caliber. Nothing to sneeze at, but the dogs go ahead and do it anyway. And YOU deserve wads of kudos, for being such a stalwart and patient supporter of my writing, and even my personal struggles over MANY years. I know that a person with borderline schizophrenia and bipolarity is sometimes DIFFICULT to hang in there with. So:

THANK YOU PROFUSELY, TARA!

I dunno. Sounds as if the day was rich with small but mighty triumphs for you.

Actually, it was. I’m just sick and tired of being surrounded by the “normals.” Everyday it’s like running an obstacle course, hardly a moment of friendly exchange. This city sucks wart hog abscesses. For two examples of recent vintage:

Last Friday when I reentered the building, I loosed the doggies from their leashes, as usual, that they could enjoy a minute or two romping through my hallway. They don’t even bark, and I think the staccato padding of their feet on the carpeted floor adds a sense of “joie de vivre” into this otherwise dreary habitation. And the hallways are almost always empty and silent, anyway. But the moment they reached the second floor, there was my crotchety nasty neighbor, Dodd, who just stood there with a sour grimace on his face, as the pups yapped furiously, fake-nipping at his heels. (He ALWAYS has a sour grimace on his face, BTW. ) Unfortunately for me, we share the restroom…and he is likely the person that smeared a bit of human feces on the throw rug the TWO times the building manager added them to the bathroom, to make things more homey; but gave up after the second offense. I finally was able to grab onto both their collars and coerce them into my room, while Dodd proceeded down the stairs. He COULD’ve just continued down the stairs before I rounded them up, but no. I can easily imagine him complaining to the building manager, over this. Even though most everyone else understands that–since the pandemic began–the hallways have become vacant for the most part, and a new doggie or two is therefore not accustomed to seeing other people inside…thus the occasional, passing resident is perceived as an intruder.

Then just earlier today, as my brindlekin were chasing each other up and down the corridor (which is actually Y-split into two hallways, so a lot more fun), and I opened the door to my SRO to allow them a quick dash therein, I suddenly heard them barking up a storm. Which, of course, meant someone was either in the hallway, or on the stairs nearby. It was straw-haired Myrtle, the mother of Adisa, standing on the second-to-top step with coffee in hand, waiting for me to round them up. So I did just that, pulling them away several feet, that she may pass without obstruction. Naturally, she said not a word to me, nor I to her. I can’t imagine what’s going on in that Unitarian Universalist little noggin of hers, but I’m sure it harbors untoward prejudice towards yours truly. Has she received my letter yet? I have no idea.

Today’s another day. Let us break bread, that we may extract the metal file hidden within.

  • Zeke

Subject: “Are they your dogs now?” queried the building manager…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 2:32 PM

…as he approached the front gate obliquely from where I stood, paused to withdraw the keys from my pocket.

“Yes, they are now!” was my simple reply.

As we entered the lobby, he reached a hand out to the doggies in friendship, and they didn’t bark at all. Until a few minutes later, when they pulled back to assert their guardianship over me. But Kevin was not perturbed, for their barks were not as strident as the several other times they’ve met, and I was able to silence them with my deeply voiced reprimand, which I repeated thrice:

“No barking!”

So I told him a bit about my story around Deek and the doggies, and how I willingly fronted my entire stimulus payment to acquire them. Seeing as my houseless friend was not treating them right, and I couldn’t bear to see such sweet creatures without a true home or human friend. Kevin is also Buddhist as far as I know, as he mentioned it once, years ago when I asked him if he has any spiritual perspective on life.

We remained in the lobby a few more minutes, as I elaborated upon my bodhisattva theory that Deek is one, too, and his vagrancy and nastiness is but an act, where he plays the enemy so that “I” can play the hero. And that I believe he intended to give me the dogs all along. I also brought up Buddha’s famous quote, “we have no enemies, only teachers,” and thus extrapolated that we must always find a way to resolve a conflict as compassionately as possible. But that MAY mean, under certain extreme circumstances, to act with violence on some level, if all compassionate options have been considered and expressed.

And I’m glad I shared that with him, considering my letter he has probably received, but maybe not. And, if not, he will not be so inordinately reactive when he DOES read it. For I believe at this point, he will “capiche” that, should this Adisa debacle come to legal blows, I will see to it that all parties involved will actually BENEFIT from my approach. Not necessarily materially (although that will probably be a significant part of the resolution), but most definitely in the way of wisdom.

I DO ponder that his considerate regard toward me today, in the lobby, may indeed be the result of his reading my letter, and also having been questioned by a representative from Ablahblah Realty. In conclusion, he told me:

“Well, since the dogs are so peaceful, as well as housebroken, I’m glad they’ve found a good home with you.”

He didn’t use those same words, but that was the gist of it. Happy days are here again! What a battle, and SUCH sweet victory!

  • Zeke

Re: “Are they your dogs now?” queried the building manager…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 2021 5:38 PM

Major, major hurdle behind you!!!!!

And so painlessly resolved. I am presently basking in the victory, knowing full well that Kevin Bond will become my latest, and perhaps greatest, disciple. Hardy har har. Now, here’s a little vignette for you, that I call:

DOWN TO THE BONE

And it just happened today…so, true story. I had forgotten to buy more whipped cream cheese for my breakfast of Alvarado Street’s toasted, whole grain sprouted wheat raisin bread. Upon which I love to slather not only cream cheese, but St. Dalfour’s blueberry preserves sweetened in grape juice. And it was almost three in the afternoon! That’s right, beloved reader, I don’t break fast these days until rather late. And that is because the doggies come first, so we rise up at 7:30 AM or so for their morning ablution, then return hovel to prepare for them, their yummy bowl of Pedigree gravy style beef or chicken stew, with a handful of kibble mixed in, along with a generous portion of those expensive leather treats I purchase at Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store just around the corner ($3.25/ounce!), and which the pups are crazy for! I just crumble up the leathers and stir ’em right in: a one hundred percent guarantee they’ll eat all their food, down to the last morsel. Why, they even lick their bowls clean any more!

After tending to their needs and happiness, I enjoy stepping back out for a few minutes to pick up a steaming cup of Arabica from Rosenberg’s, also just around the corner (on Noe Street). At this time in the morning (between 9 and 10 AM) I prefer to languish over my coffee (that I sweeten with two packets of Sweet’N Low and a teaspoon dollop of Wild Mountain Raw Honey: the best in their class I’d say, and for a most reasonable price: $14.99 for two pounds). I should also note that when I pour my coffee at Rosenberg’s, I fill the cup to only eighty percent, so as to turn it into an almost-latte upon returning hovel, and after adding the sweeteners. Heavenly!

So then I’m “in the zone”…of languishing, that is, which lasts three or four hours while working on my latest tale, or two or three…or coming up with new ones. All this, while sipping on Rosenberg’s golden brown nectar. While listening to just one radio station all day long, for background ambience that appears to juice up my creativity glands:

SOMA FM SF 10-33: “Ambient music mixed with the sounds of San Francisco public safety radio traffic.” https://somafm.com/sf1033/

By the time I’m ready to break fast, it’s 1 or, more likely, 2, PM. But before my main repast of toast and tea (Twining’s Black Currant Breeze, BTW), I make a smoothie out of the following ingredients: 1 large or medium banana, two packets of Sweet ‘N Low, a scant tablespoon of Hershey’s Cocoa Powder, 2 tablespoons of either Adams 100% Natural Creamy Peanut Butter, or Tarazi Tahini, and a tall glass of Berkeley Farms 2% Milk (not necessarily organic, depending on that week’s budget).

Once I’m done with the smoothie, Taco & Wiley are ready to go out again. So, about twenty minutes will have passed between smoothie and toast with tea. So today, as I brewed the tea and broke out the bread, I realized that I’m almost out of cream cheese! In such incidents (when I’ve forgotten something to purchase from earlier in the day) I leave the pooches at home, and hurry on down to Les’s corner liquor, sundry and grocery store two blocks up on Noe Street. But today I brought them with, as they seemed all perky and ready for some street action again, which I guess is thanks to the warmer weather.

On our walk back hovel, Wiley pulled on her leash to sniff around the temporary wooden stage built beyond the curb, for the Mediterranean restaurant’s outdoor seating. I could see why, what with all the yummy food scents! But the next thing I know, she had snatched a chicken bone between her jaws, and refused to part with it. I tried opening those tiny jaws to extract it, but her clench was fierce, and no way would I want to break those little jaws! I was beyond coaxing, as it wasn’t having any results. The best I could do was maintain a firm grip on one end of the bone, between thumb and two fingers. I tried rubbing her nose, and blocking her nostrils with my free hand…but nothing worked!

Then I realized that Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store was just thirty feet away, and the moment one of the employees stepped out, I could summon her over to size up the situation, whereby she’d quickly return with a leather treat, for which Wiley would open those jaws, and I could recover the chicken bone. But a minute or so passed, and no one did, not even a customer! That is when I decided to nudge her over to the shop door, so I could holler for some help. Thus, with my right hand still gripping down on the bone, I used my left hand on the leash to gently pull her forward. Meanwhile, Taco was quietly standing by my side, with his own leash also in my left hand.

Well, Wiley resisted all the way, so it took over another minute to budge her just several feet. I did NOT want her to have that bone, as it could splinter between her teeth; she might swallow it and choke to death. Then, just like that, she let go!

The rest of the day has been much better.

  • Zeke


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 Chronic.net 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 Chronic.net (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
marilyn

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.

While you’re at it, check out the cute sweaters some gracious donor sent me in late December:

https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2020/12/28/the-sweaters-have-arrived/


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

SOMETHING URGENT has come up: THE DOGS REFUSE TO EAT ANYTHING, AT ALL, INCLUDING ROTISSERIE CHICKEN!

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

I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
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.



ADDENDUM

Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
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.


Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
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!





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