Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Chapter 1


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Talking Dick Head

I awoke in a newly renovated room at the Flamingo to a loud raspy voice that was shouting, “Smokey! Hey, Smokey! Wake up asshole.” I quickly scan the room for an intruder, my hand clenching the hotel phone in case I need a weapon. “Smokey god damn it, put it down, you don’t want to hurt me, look at me man, I’m alive ….” The voice is coming from inside my bed, I grip the phone tighter, prop it up to get better leverage. Supercharged Alien adrenaline is pumping hard, I slowly carefully with one hand start pulling the sheets off, the other hand clenching the phone straight up and ready to deliver a crushing blow. 

Jesus! my penis was speaking; the slit was moving with every word. It had tiny teeth, a tongue, miniature Ray Ban sunglasses, a tiny fedora, all the while smoking a cigar and blowing smoke rings.

“Smokey, what are we going to do about this. It’s Vegas man, get on the web and get me some pussy. I want four Chic's, three skinny ones and one humongous fat one?” It said.
My 800 IQ tells me, obviously, I’m having deprived hallucination, a seizure or mental breakdown of some kind, the question is how and why?
I reach for the channel changer and turn on the TV, hoping whatever substance is causing this delusion wears off soon. “Come on Smokey, talk to me asshole, just a little bit of money for some honey.” It said. I refuse to look at it or acknowledge this is happening.

“Why don’t you try and strangle me you prick; I will puke straight up onto all four blades of the ceiling fan. Then the centrifugal force will fling your DNA onto the walls, and if someone gets murdered in this room you got some explaining to do. Spend some of that money you have on the dresser buddy, get me some chic's you cheap fucking bastard.” The dick said.

I start watching the movie previews.

“Smokey put the porn channel on, just me and you here, I won’t tell anyone, honest.”
I look down at my dick and say. “Really-Man, I'm seven hundred years old.”
“Oh you’re talking to me now, you pathetic boring piece of shit, our EX wife is a billion light years away, the current one, two thousand miles away, what's your problem, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. You're a chicken shit, I can’t believe I’m attached to such a loser.”

Then it goes into a hysterical laughing fit just as I start feeling light headed, and everything goes dark.

I force my eyes wide open and all I see is black, then flashbacks of traveling on our spaceship at a million times the speed of light. Stars, galaxies, flying past us like fireflies on a dirt road doing 100 miles an hour. Fuck, it hits me; I forgot my nicotine patch before bed last night.  I’m moments away from certain death. I stand up completely blind and start feeling around the room, I only have about a minute to get some nicotine in my body or I’m dead. I smash into the washroom door, my head is split wide open, warm blood running down my face. My legs go rubbery, I fall, desperately trying to stand while moving forward my head still on the carpet, I put a two-inch carpet burn on my head.

There is a pounding on my room door. I scream out “Go away, not now!!!” “Smokey it’s me, Ashman, open up, I got to tell you something important,” he said.

Using all my strength I get back on my feet then frantically walk around the room, smashing into things, my arms straight forward like a desperate trapped Frankenstein. I need to find the door, or a damn cigarette, my legs are about to give out again, my telekinetic powers ineffective. I navigate to the closet. I know the door knob is close, two steps to the right. I find the doorknob; without a moment of hesitation, I yank it open.

“Ashman spark me up a few cigarettes right now. I’m about to die, I was patchless last night.” I said.

Ashman realizing the seriousness of my situation shoves two Marlboro's into my mouth and sparks them up with his Zippo, I can't see it but smell it. I inhale deeply. “Oh Yeah—Ummm”, a wave of numbness descends from my head down to my toes. I have a few more deep drags and my eyes clear, the world comes back into focus. My heart beats are racing up to a normal rhythm. That was a damn close call.

Ashman says, “What the hell happened to your head?

“Before bed, I forget my nicotine patch, I got hammered at the crap table.  I woke up this morning hallucinating, then my body started shutting down. You just saved my life man, I owe you huge for this.” I said.

“Smokey please tell me you weren't snorting salt?”

“I only had a few salt packs with a bit of Jack Daniels. I don’t even remember coming to bed.   Ashman, I was on a roll man, I killed it, I made a shit load of loot, I haven’t even counted it yet, it's on the dresser.”

“Are you insane? Two salt packs, that’s like a human heroin junkie pumping in an entire needle into his neck, you’re lucky to be alive.” Ashman said while counting my winnings.
“Ashman, I've built up a good tolerance over the years, our mission is almost over. I just wanted to let my hair down and have a bit of fun before we go back home to that shit hole of a prison planet. Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Smokey you have a quarter million dollars here, you used your powers didn’t you, you’re going to get us kicked out and arrested, you can’t take all this money. They have cameras everywhere. I know you cheated, we are in deep trouble now idiot.”

Ashman’s always been a bit of a screw-up, a mama’s boy, always scared of his own shadow, doesn’t lie, and thinks no one else does either. The only reason he got on this mission is because his father is second in command on the Nictonite council, Ashman is 250 years old and was still living in his parent’s basement back on Nictonite. They had to do something to get him out of the house. Sending him a billion light years away was a probably a bit of overkill, he’s not a bad kid, just weird. 

“Ashman what room is Barrington in, he’s got the tickets to the area 51 convention,”
“Smokey we got to give all this money back, we don’t need security pounding down this door. What happens if they figure out we are from another planet? They will lock us up forever, no trial, no rights. We will be experiments, creepy guys in white lab coats, probing us, drilling us, doing terrible things.  I mean they do that to their own kind here on Earth.”

“Ashman, stop working yourself up, just relax, we can’t afford another one of your episodes, take a deep breath, light up a smoke, calm down, that’s it, good. No one can't hurt us here.”

There were six hundred top candidates for the mission, no one less than a 500 on the IQ scale. Now I’m stuck with him because his goddamn father is a selfish bastard. He jeopardized this mission, Ashman is barely an IQ 300.
Just as I was getting him under control, Boom, Boom, Boom, three hard knocks on the door.
“Mr. Smokeweeden, we need to speak to you, are you free for a few minutes.” The voice behind the door said.
Ashman starts to hyperventilate, eyes wide open, frozen in terror. There was about a three-second delayed reaction. His face, paralyzed while his mind is computing every possible negative outcome before I can talk, he bolts. In a split second, he smashes through the wall into the next room. He leaves a clean hole in the outline of his body, no debris.

I said to the voice behind the door, “Sure, give me a few minutes to get decent.

The voice says “Is everything ok in there.”

I grab all the loot, stuff it under the mattress. No fucking way I’m giving it back, I won it without cheating, or at least I think I did. I walk to the door and slowly open it. There is a giant beast of a man. His name tag says Hugo, head of security, this fat faced bald guy with a thick goatee exhibiting no emotion or eye contact, the other guy is short, in a trench coat, a dead ringer for Colombo, old school Italian I'm guessing. He extends his hand to shake mine. He says, “Hi I’m Ron LaMotte, I’m an executive host for Caesars Entertainment, I would like to welcome you to our property and offer you a rewards card. I’m here to take care of anything you need. What happened to your head?”

“I bumped into the door in the middle of the night, had a bit too much to drink last night, I’m OK,” I said.

“Well, you had a great two-hour roll on the crap table. We value our high rollers and let’s see what we can do to have your stay with us memorable. How long do you plan on staying with us?” Ron asked.

“Well, Ron I’m here for the weekend, Me and some friends are going to the Area 51 Convention.”

Shit, Hugo caught a glimpse of the hole Ashman made. The bastard nudged me out of the way and stepped into the room, then Ron followed, they both see the hole.  I look at Ron and say, “Ah., well… listen. I had a bit of wild party last night, you know, celebrating the win, had a few girls up here, a few college buddies, it got out of hand. There’s a little bit of damage, I can pay for it, it's no big deal.”

Uninvited they approach the wall for a closer look, they stare at the hole for about twenty seconds. Hugo suddenly turns toward me, his eyes wide open, his nostrils are having an epileptic seizure, this guy has issues I think to myself. Ron then turns, pausing for a moment, his calculator at full speed, slightly a little unsure of himself and said. “We’re sold out of our regular rooms and you can’t stay in this room anymore, we need to send up a crew to fix it. How would you like the penthouse with full butler service at no charge?” 

I grinned and nodded in acceptance.

“Its’ on the house. Don’t worry about that wall, it’s Vegas, we know stuff happens, you’re a valuable client, we want you to have a great time here. I’ll send someone up to move your things. I look forward to seeing you at the tables tonight, you are playing again?” He asks.

“Absolutely!” I said.

I walk them to the door shake hands, Ron first then Hugo. Hugo has a gentle grip, but I can’t feel his soul, I’m having trouble reading his mind. He's holding back, he wants to crush every bone in my hand, then my body. I don’t think this beast knows its own strength.

After I close the door, Ashman pops his head from his hole, His out of control episode of hysterical panic and crying is instantly turned into an evil crazy laugh. “Smokey, what just happened man, that was amazing, you got the penthouse for free. Now I know why my dad made you commander for this mission.”

“Ashman you never told me where Barrington is.”

“Oh, he’s staying at Caesars Palace; he said this place is crap and  low class for him.”

“He comes from a low life family back on Nictonite. 

What a nervy entitled prick, that teaching job has gone to his head. Here; take all this money, put it in your safe, I'll meet you at the pool in fifteen minutes.” I said as I self-repair my cracked skull and carpet burn head wounds. 




Sunday, August 14, 2016

Nictonite plasma flier

Keep your eyes open and your camera’s ready over lake Ontario on bee path to Washington DC. Look for a flying Orange Plasma Ball.

If you see a man in DC wearing this tee shirt.

Do not approach. I'm in mission mode.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Thursday, July 28, 2016

RIP Daddy

Got to report with great sadness that my dear old dad just shy of 99 pasted away at around 7:15 pm on July 27th during a passing thunderstorm. What is it with Serbians and thunderstorms.

He was born 1918 son of a farmer in Serbia near Belgrade.  Hardworking his entire life, after his third attempt he finally succeeded at escaping a Nazi Prison Camp and made his way to Canada as a refuge via Halifax.

He built a great life here and met Helen his true love. They were married in Oct 1958, almost exactly 9 months later I made it into the world.

From skating and hockey practice, he was always there. Many trips to center Island when the only thing on the skyline was the Royal York Hotel. He never judged or ridiculed, he was just a beacon of love that gave me tremendous strength and character.

To this day I have absolutely no recollection of him ever rising his voice, showing any anger, or violence whatsoever to anyone. Wait, that's not true. Big Yaya, the mother in-law. Well that don't count,  she could get under anyone's skin, and she was well loved too. 

Yesterday before he went to search for Helen, his nurse at the nursing home kept telling him your going to see Helen soon.  His eyes were shut but he smiled every time he heard the word Helen. Do to ridiculous traffic on the 427 I made it to his room moments after he passed. He was smiling.

He was a kind sweet man who loved his wife, his son, daughter in-law and grand kids dearly. He went out of his way help anyone with his time and labor.  He was a beauty, and the world lost a great man.

Rest In Peace Dad, I do see the resemblance of our late relative.

Friday, July 22, 2016

The Senica Dude.

He's quite famous.  He's here every Friday and Saturday night taken up real estate at the stir dance floor.

Love's to dance. 

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Happy 4th of July

The pub crawl that started on Canada day night isn't over.  My wife on a quest for the perfect dress.  The taxi driver  suggest we go to Pennsylvania.  We did but diden't find one worthy of her beauty so it's time to have fun happy 4th of July to my American family and freinds. 

Friday, July 1, 2016

Happy Canada Day.

Canada day.  At Southside Johnnys Wow finaly a few words that doesn't offend anyone.

Looking for a gender connection in the letters.  Something troubling about the C in Canada.  I'm sure some socialists will find a reason to remove it

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Sunday Morning

Nothing like starting off my Sunday morning with a few smokes, a wine and a paint brush.  Like my writing my painting needs a bit of work too.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

UFO Dog fight over Arazona

Boy I'm surprised Barrington took out the Tall White ship. He's a useless teacher. We never got the feel of flying. That's my Job.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Getting Fit

After 35 years of sitting on my ass making loot. Getting Fit for my world wide book tour.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

When wine tasting is like vinagre

Not always.  Go Donald.  Your pay out the big for nothing.

CSIS your backing the so wrong horse.
But you losers need  a pay check.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Making Friends

Gale and Jim.  Living the dream.  Beautiful folks. Offered to buy us dinner. What can I say. 

Friday, April 22, 2016

Mission Accomplished

Area 51: in by a foot. And Cheetahs.

The American Dream

Something went wrong. Fork in the road. Chose the wrong one on the quest to the elusive white picked fence, and that loving family.

My ride for area 51 tomorrow

200 horsepower, I'll get there fast.

Monday, April 18, 2016


Shoots from Laughlin . Last pic my writing room. Just finished chapter 9.

I dropped twenty lbs with the fever. I look like shit. My first cigarette since April 1st.

Friday, April 15, 2016

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Friday, January 29, 2016

I could not.

This dude is sitting in my Booth at Seneca tonight.

99% of the population would have security remove him.
I'm not in the 99%

Beers are on me..he never started out like that. Shit happens. 

His name is Richard,  he only wants a water. Beauty.  Only one water for his story.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Bit of Chapter 4

Chapter 4
Dinging Down the House.

There we were, the four of us waiting for the elevator door to open. Each of us with ten thousand dollars of disposable fun and a complete mistrust of each other.

The elevator ding-er dings twice, "That's ours" I said.
Ashman blurts out. "How do you know it's going down?"

Barrington chimes in. "Every elevator in the world works this way, the only thing humans ever got right. Most humans are oblivious to one ding for up, two dings for down you ding ailing. We are in the penthouse, the top floor, what are you even doing on this mission."

We get on the elevator.
On the ride down Barrington’s face is buried in his smart phone doing an ancestral search on Hugo. Ashman now in a real foul mood after another insult, and Jeremiah still not sure if I was telling the truth, wondering if I'm going to kill him the second he turns his back. What is wrong with me, I should be worried about him killing me, because he thinks I'll be killing him. Relationships are complicated. We reach the casino level.
The elevator door opens mirrors everywhere as we step off.

Barrington shouts out and stops me dead in my tracks. "Smokey, this is very interesting, farthest I can go back regarding Hugo’s ancestors. His great, great grandmother's name is Jduka Mandic, the Father's name is Milutin, can't make out his last name. Jduca was born in 1822 in Croatia, Milutin was a Serbian Orthodox Preacher.

"Wonderful." I said.

We're in Vegas, we have a shit load of loot, supernatural powers, big dicks, and professor British accent is still working. Fuck. Where did I go wrong as commander?
"Smokey, remember the scouting expedition we sent here in 1810. Remember the crash of the second generation Titan-370-star ship?" Barrington said.

"Yes I do Remember, how could I ever forget the missing pilot's name, Shlong Zinger.” I said.
Yes, and it crashed five miles from the town of Smiljan. Close proximity to where Jduka and Milutin where born, Shlong Zinger could easily be Jduka or Milutin's Father. "He said.

"I think you're onto something, good work, keep digging lad. But dude, it's Friday night man, we're in Las Vegas with a shit load of loot. Enough work already, it's time to party. “I said. 

Thursday, January 14, 2016

One more Millionaire

A note for a new Millionaire Greater Fool Blog Dog. His P & L
If this shit keeps up No one to shine my shoes.

Smokey, my man.  I took the advice you were dispensing for free on GF and your own blog back in March.  I opened a $100k demo AvaTrade account.  At first, I had no f---in clue what exactly I was doing...trading all sorts of pairs....JUST TO LEARN THE SYSTEM.  Then I decided to only ever trade USDCAD.  I spent exactly 3 months learning....practicing like crazy...up til 4 or 5 am every night, then off to the tax farm at 9:30am.  Wife hated me, and you, and this "game" I was playing.  She thought of it like a video game or something.  Funny how wives can say the darndest things, eh? I also kept reading your comments on GF and your blog.  Took your batman, camel toe advice and applied it.  Worked out pretty well.  Have a look at the screen shot I sent.  I had some scary moments, but some thrilling ones too, netted $440k on the December Fed hike alone.  I really hit my stride when I predicted the July BoC hike, though...caught most people by surprise, that one.  But then again, most people are part of the herd.  I keep thinking to myself "this shit's not so hard....just be on the right side of the trade, that's all."  

Now don't get me wrong....I've been a keen economic observer and avid reader of economic and financial news., and geopolitics for about 13 to 14 years...so I'm not a novice in that realm.  But I never really had a outlet in which I could apply the knowledge and insights I was coming up with to make money.  Until I read your comments about currency trading.

Can I make it my day job?  Don't know....part of me says I need to start doing technical trading to do it for a living, part of me says it's not actually a thing you can make consistent money on. Plus, technical trading can mess with your head and mess with your flow.  It's better to be an ignorant Neanderthal who's a natural with the ladies than to get a dating coach and get bogged down focusing on posture, eye contact, voice tone, colour coordination of belt and shoes, what she meant when she said xyz, and other technicals.  That's the difference between understanding overall trends and economic fundamentals vs. focusing on technicals.

So instead of daily technical trading, I'll go for a once-in-a-while big bang approach when a currency gyration is subtly telegraphed in advance to those who have the experience and ability to analyze the economic painting being drawn by the machine.

Thanks so much Smokey, you've changed my family's life.  My wife even likes you now, believe it or not.  But she still hates that she has nobody to stuff her feet against in the bed when they feel cold at 2:30am

p.s. I've been reading your shit on GF since like 2010.  Keep it up.

Forgot to mention....I spent 3 months learning on the Demo account and then opened a live Ava Trade account in June....gave me ~3-4 weeks to prep for the July BoC decision.

I haven't withdrew any of the funds yet....is there anything I should know about withdrawing from an Ava account?  Any hiccups or restrictions they impose, or difficulties they put you through??

Thanks again dude.  If I ever see you, or someone who looks like what I think you look like, at Seneca, free cigar on me.

Friday, January 8, 2016

New Millionare

Had a fellow blog dog who is a Huge Smoking Man fan contact me back in Jun.

He asked what I use to trade Forex. Told him, I said it was dangerous if don't know what you're doing, Open a demo account a practice for 2 years. or you will get crushed.

So much for listening to me,

He opened an account with 10k, built it up to over 100k, then started betting big.

I gave him a few tips with the understanding that when I publish my book, he's to buy it, then lie his ass off in the book review and say it was great.

Never heard from him again until a few minutes ago, he sent me these. pics...

Congrats  JHD on your first Million. Cash it out, never do this again. You were lucky.

This is his live trade blotter.