Thursday, September 1, 2005
IMAGINE…Some might say Squid’s a dreamer. (Now it’s true, some might say Squid’s delusional, but Squid’s a glass-half-full kinda cephalopod, so Squid’s gonna go with dreamer.) And Squid’s not the only one. Take Gerry Kehoe, the delusional, err, dreamer, who at one point convinced the entire Salinas City Council that he was going to build a fancy-schmancy 14-story hotel-and-condo complex in Oldtown Salinas, anchored by a Hilton hotel. But he forgot to mention that Hilton didn’t know about the plan. He also forgot to pay property taxes, and to un-suspend his company’s corporate license, but, hey, when you’ve got a big, shiny dream, who cares about the minor details? Salinas councilmembers apparently didn’t—they repeatedly extended his deadlines, and waited for three years for Kehoe to produce…nothing.
Until Aug. 16, that is, when, the council voted to axe Kehoe’s pipe dream—oops, Squid means project—and look for a hotel to move into the 100 block of Main Street. Marriott execs are rumored to be interested. Squid’s anxious to see if they attend a Sept. 8 meeting that city officials are hosting for would-be developers, interested in building a hotel across from the newly opened Maya Cinemas. There’s only one RSVP that Squid knows of: Gerry Kehoe. Yup, he’s not giving up on his plans for an Oldtown hotel. He recently told the Californian, “It is still on the table for the city.” Huh? Did he miss the city council’s unanimous decision to reject his half-baked proposal? Maybe it was all just a bad dream…
SQUID READ THE NEWS TODAY, OH BOY…And this from the San Jose Mercury News: “David Smith Sr., who already holds a world record for the longest distance traveled by a human fired from a cannon, now has another feat on his record. Smith was shot across the US-Mexico border on Saturday, soaring about 150 feet and landing uninjured in a net in San Diego with US Border Patrol agents and an ambulance waiting nearby.” Regular readers who suspect that Squid is making up the part about the Border Patrol agents are forgiven—that would be just like Squid. But it’s true. Clearly the US government fears that thousands of fieldworkers and maids will soon be following Smith’s example.
And what about this item, from the Herald:
“Recently, gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson’s ashes
were blasted from a cannon as part of a massive fireworks
display at his estate.” Think those two stories are unrelated?
No way. Call Squid paranoid, but Squid is convinced that this
was Thompson’s ploy to sneak into heaven. And the fact that
Squid read the story while on a road trip, somewhere around
Barstow, has nothing to do with it. Or that Squid had recently
imbibed in two bags of grass, 75 pellets of mescaline, five
sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full
of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers,
downers, screamers, laughers...and also a quart of tequila, a
quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two
dozen amyls. Squid is no more paranoid than la
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