<snip>

Holy sh.t

Translated into English.

There is a new trailblazer(or directional sign) for CA 4 west at the
junction of Mariposa Road and Charter Way-Old CA 4. CA 4 joins Charter way
after the Interstate 5 junction(j471)-west of Stockton. The purpose of the
new signage may be to help direct people to CA 4 west of town. In the City
of Stockton, CA 4 is posted on a freeway(the Ort Luftus Freeway) extending
from Interstate 5(at j472) east to CA 99; CA 4 runs concurrent with CA 99
south of that junction(j254A) and leaves CA 99 and continues east at the
Farmington Road junction(j252B). You can also use Mariposa Road to get to
CA 4 East.

Daggett Road west of Stockton has been renamed the 'Port of Stockton
Expressway', and a new 4 lane bridge has been built to connect it to Rough
and Ready Island. Daggett Road was discontinuous before the bridge was
built. Another section of expressway is being built west of the Navy
Drive/West Washington Street junction. Maybe one day one or both sections
of expressway will be incorporated into CA 4. It would be easy to link the
existing freeway into the West Washington Street expressway project.

Same information-and about 6 or 7 items not mentioned by CalQaeda. And
hopefully a bit more clarity.

Hai, Vitameinerologists.

Hey, road dudes of both genders, I'd like to take a little time out here and
be perfectly frank. That's hard for me since I'm Carl. Oh, god, I've
obfuscated myself again. I'm like the Shadow, but rather than clouding
men's(of both genders) minds, I only seem to cloud my own. Where was I? Is
there a cookie? Damn! I wish it was time for my cookie.

Gotta focus. Right. I'm going to tell you all the truth about my current
situation here. That's right. The Truth, from me. Don't blink, or you'll
miss it. It's not all tea and crumpets around the CalQaeda Empire, these
days, lemme tell you. But I has a picture of a Highway Shield and that
makes me feel almost as good as a cookie. I still wish it was time for my
cookie.

Anyway, it's an M1 Shield from Merrie olde England, home of tea and
crumpets. Did you know they call cookies 'biscuts' over there? No kidding.
I asked Sharleena for a biscut once, thinking I'd get a cookie, Instead, I
got something that resembled a light beige and off-white hockey puck. I
broke a tooth on that sucker, and it tasted like gypsum drywall. Sharleena
mocked my howls of pain, and took me to the mean dentist who hits me in the
face with a hammer to anesthetise me. That also knocked out the broken
tooth. Sharleena says he's a real dentist, but I have my doubts.

Anyway. Focus! Yes. I got this picture of the M1 Sheild from the MI5
Persecution guy, who says it's proof positive that the streetlights and
arrangements of the cats-eyes at the M1 Nottingham Junction are a means of
mocking him on alternate Sundays in months with an 'R' in them; all Sundays
in months without 'R''s on Shrove Tuesday *and* Wimbledon fortnight, but
only if and when a Scotsman from the Podgorny Kiltmaking Clan is present,
enquiring after a Blancmange. I don't know what that means and it gives me
a headache just thinking about it. I suggested he try some of my
medication, he was up for it, and sent some of his rather interesting
medication along in return. I like it cos it makes the room all bendy and I
can be like a rubber man.

But that's small reassurance in a world gone all wrong for me. Dad is pissed
that I maxed out his Amex buying up sines so I could start up my own
Federal Highway Systems in Malawi and Burkino Faso; as well as dumping a
few dollars into an exciting extension that will link California 4 to a
motorway in project running from the Capitol of Mali to the Capitol of
Niger via Burkino Faso. Those places have funny names and I can't spell
them. Dad was really mad: he says 'those poor bastards there don't have any
goddam cars, you f.cking moron! They save all year so they can buy a goddam
sharp stick!' Then he hit me in the face with a hammer. I didn't know Dad
was a Dentist too.

It gets worse. Somehow Eric Lazonga(you remember Eric, don't you?) and my
MaltePoo Schnitzer got into a case of beer, got royally pissed and
thereupon proceeded to devour the entire contents of Sharleena's underwear
drawer. They ate every set of knickers she had, and it was all that
expensive Victoria's Secret stuff that makes my tummy feel funny when I
look in the drawer when nobody's home. Anyway, I didn't have the Amex, so I
snatched Sharleena's Visa when she wasn't looking. She was talking to a man
about a dog. I don't know.

It was pretty grim. Both Eric and Schnitzer were full of cheap beer and
expensive knickers, and I thought they would burst. It didn't help when I
got to the vet, either. I was told I would have to pay extra for Eric(you
remember him, right? Nice chap), as they classed him as an exotic and/or
endangered species and his shots were due. Schnitzer fared no better, while
waiting for the vet to fix Eric, the office girls flung him about like he
was the orb for my least favourite pigskin-based sport. I cringed when they
spiked him for the touchdown. Well to make a long story short(not something
I often do, make a note of it), after removing 348 pairs of Macerated
Knickers from my pets, the vet declared them good as new, and sent us away.
He also decided his Rottwielers needed exercise just then, so he had them
escort us to the car park. It was a rather brisk sprint. He kept
Sharleena's Visa. I don't think he was a *real* vet. He laughed heartily as
we ran.

Well that was all sorted out, but then I realised that Sharleena had no
knickers left. She'd forgot to wear them that day. She said she had a fancy
dress party and was going as Britney Spears. Whatever. I stopped at K-Mart
on the way home and quickly picked up a couple of packages that were made
by the fine Chinese Company of Wang Hu's Second Factory-they were  $1.99 a
package, dead cheap- and just the amount of change that Eric and I had
managed to lay hands on after combing the car a couple of times, and
squeezing Schnitzer just right(he'd swallowed 55 cents in the Vet's car
park); and secreted these in her underwear drawer, hoping she wouldn't
notice. Well, I didn't have that kind of luck. She literally exploded when
she found her new undergarments. In retrospect, I may have had more success
in my subterfuge had I removed them from the packages first. Live and
learn. I also discovered that I had misread the label-it wasn't 'Second
Factory', rather it was 'Factory Second'(the last 's' having been left off
for 'Savings'); and it was fimsy cheesy 'days of the week' knickers-but it
didn't have all the days of the week, only five Sundays and two Tuesdays.

So that's where I'm at, now, friends, in a hell of a pickle. I need all of
you to click all of my pages as many times as possible, as soon as
possible, as I need to get that Google Ad Revenue flowing. Buy my books,
too. If I can get them on the New York Times best-seller list for even a
week, It will help. If I don't come up with some cash sometime soon, I may
have to get a real job or join the Army. Plus, the sooner I come up with
the cash, the sooner Sharleena will let me, Schnitzer and Eric back in the
house. I try now, but she shoots at me. Thank god she can't hit the broad
side of the barn. But she did take out the postman and a couple of the
neighbour's cats, and I have to pay for *that* too.

It's been rough with me, Eric and Schnitzer tyring to share a a threadbare
blanket in the kennels, and since the beer and knickers incident, Eric
seems to have developed a flatulence problem, and the resultant emissions
smell like third hand Alpo, burnt rubber and Sharleena's Knickers. All of
which makes me very sad as I shiver on the concrete floor, waiting for when
it's time for my cookie.

Cheers

Carl Rogers
----
Yaddda Yaddad Yadda Websight thingy. I don't need to type it, I've been up
yr arse with it for so long, you all prolly have nightmares about it.
Click, don't think, and we'll all be better off.