His name was Hoota. Hootaville Blue.
Some say he was from here even if his documentation was sparse. I though say I have seen his documents and while they appear from this region, there seems to be a tea stained appearance to their vestige.........a sort of British aroma to an otherwise American looking print.
In any case, I knew him from his more salad days. Those gay times of limo rides and other frivolities of a Chicago socialite, popular with the convention folks, but otherwise just a sort of amusement for the folks who lived by the shore.
He wanted to be a Marxist politician it was said to save people from themselves, but in rendering a post land of Lincoln judgment, I would say he now requires saving from hisself.
I have heard that people on the coasts know him as a black man. That may be the case, but I knew him as a black white man, a person of passage, a person of color, who liked the chocolate flavor in his vanilla, but only to provide an enticement to get the girls to take a bite of his juicy nature.
Once upon a time, he liked white girls, but when it was found that climbing on white girls was only a step down to their community, he seemed to pick on riding a horse in a different race. Now mind you, Hoota was not someone who just dabbled in the grey areas of romance, because he was not about to pick some Hawaiian noises banging on bongos, nor was the South Side Romeo and Juliet going to be just a welfare babe.
No Hoota, was intent on the daughter of the Martin King contingent, but that rascally vixen was just too intelligent to fall under the Hootaville magic of this white man gone tan. So having that connection gone, Hoota, chose the friend of that vixen, a sort of a dark horse of modest colors, but when her caboose pulled in all the welfare votes of her ward.........what difference does the horse make, when the saddle all rides the same to the top.
Some say Hoota was not a religious sort. I can attest that he was the most religious of sorts I have ever come across. His religion was hisself and he worshipped hisself daily. For the collection plate he was a Muslim. For the front pew he was a Marxist, for the ballot box being stuffed he was Black Racist, and to appeal to the hell vote, he was that kind of christian who dusts God off on holidays and disasters to get presents or blame Him for the world falling down.
Hoota carried on a love affair with monkeys in his pants rubbing on charms there and the dead. His worship was almost masturbatory as he held onto those icons like a four year old child not weaned and going to daycare. I can not say how much voodoo he practiced, nor did I ever hear of his Hindu or Jewish roots, but he certainly did seem to like rooting out Hindus with Chinese tunnels and Jews saw the soul of his foot often.........and yes I do mean soul.
I know Hoota to be a liar, a coward, a fraud, a criminal and a cheater. I realize that in a minority of people's eyes such immorality would be a rejection, but in the Hootaville world of Blue, it was just like bees to honey, jackals to the carcase and blow flies to sh*t.
The allure of the musk of Hoota was like a perfume, a New Orleans brothel after a Marid Gras orgy, a stench of tar balls on a Gulf Coast beach, the rotting corpses of Libyans from missile strikes as that faint aroma of rocket fuel, gives it a BBQ scent of Chicago in the summertime........it is just an attraction like a camel snuffing at the ass of her calf in knowing that tangy fermented cheese smell was all her's.
So as long as you knew the Hoota you were dealing with, the bottom of the deck was the deal so you just kind of dealt with the situation you were going to get the losing hand.
Did I mention he was a bastard? Well, I suppose he wasn't, but his old man was African and black as Toby's heel from what I was told. He bought women for a herd of cows. Now back in the day in 1960 a heard of cows might run you like 1300 pounds or 2000 yank dollars, which I suppose is like a nice car or might get you a starter home in some little village. So I guess that buying a wife business is a pretty good deal, as even now with inflation that some ten cows would get you a pretty good car, but the home would need a few more bossies to pay of the mortgage.
From what I was told though, only the African gals got the cows, and Hoota's Mama gave her milk away for free as she was on a pretty short leash as a child.
Sure she was a child, a baby when she got her cherry picked, but you can't hold that against some young child being taken advantage of by some swarthy sex machine and his wife. Kind of a double dip delight I suppose, and if you think about it, without a little pedophilia the world never would have had a Hootaville Blue to bring it to the abyss, so the world would not now how high it had sunk from.
You know Hoota always had zipper problems. No I don't mean in getting nubile young vixens pregnant. It was more of a case where you can't get men pregnant.
Hoota always had thread bare pants around his zipper from over use. You would think that cocaine would be a lubricant to make a zipper last longer, but it must be some kind of notorious abrasive, unless of course Hoota was having zipper malfunctions in that zipper going up and down so often as a Chicago socialite.
We used to call them pansies, but now there is less flowery terms. It is more just manfriend in how we refer to special friends who floss or show their manliness in conversations as easy as ABC.
I once heard Hoota had a manfriend in Chicago. A nice guy who could not get enough gomorrah from Mr. Blue. His documentation was quite detailed though in being DOA as the most interesting thing took place in Hoota ejaculated on this young man and someone else done all poisoned him with lead.
I heard another nice boy who was sinfully clear in taking limo rides with Hoota, that this poor boy was driven to attempt suicide too.
It must be a tragedy to be so manly like Mr. Blue that the people closest to you in the mansexual relationships all about die.
It is different though for the daughters of Hoota from what I have seen. He likes showing them off as a tease on trips and threatening other children he will shoot them with missiles of they try to play with their erector sets.
Blame it on Rio, but there was the photo again of Hoota on vacation........yes he is always on vacation and only interrupts vacation with work when not playing golf, but there was Hoota and his lovely Amazon like daughter, all seven feet of her on his arm, coming off the private jet, while the wife and the fat daughter brought up the rear.
Speaking of fat rears, that wife of the South Side sure got herself one big backside. I once thought she had a two state sized ass, but as of late it looks two continent size.
Odd how them pictures of her all sexy change in one photo her teeth are odd and the next she is got that pucker puss mouth which looks built for zipper action. Then of course Hoota's pictures are always interesting in sometimes his hand is short, sometimes his hair is grey, and that magic bastard even changes skin colors like chameleon.
He must be a real source of comfort for the Mrs. as you know the truth of this is, she could rub olde Hoota next to her wallpaper and then haul him all quick down to the store to show them retailers the color she had, and then pick out the color she wants.
There is always an immense asset in having a husband who can change color to his surroundings.
All this talk of my friend Hootaville has just made me realize what a special person he is. He is so special there should be some Olympic event just all for Hoota that people could just laugh and laugh at him as he runs like duck and changes his plumage to match the color of red communism he is dabbling in at that moment.
Someone should really write a poem for this Hootaville Blue.
Someone really should..........
Hootaville Blue come blow your horn
Because who can do better
Than praising you
The Hootaville Blue undocumented born
agtG
