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Friday, October 28, 2016

Thoughts in passing: Trump – (Follow up from Monday’s post.)


Could this be it? 

More Hillary e-mails. The other shoe at last?  I don't think so. Just another distraction to keep us away from anything relevant we might be discover. What we are discovering is just how rotten the whole thing is. We are almost afraid to look, but watching. This insane reality - better than fiction. So much of it is fiction.

Thoughts in passing - 25 October 2016

Trump and the other shoe.

I keep waiting for some kind of huge surprise in the election. Nothing would surprise me. It’s weird what Trump does. He feeds on negativity. He probably eats Krypton for breakfast. This is what got him where is in the first place. He’s been called every name in the book, but the names where called on prime time TV—again and again and again. Mass media is eating it up. The news is more entertaining than prime time TV. Trump has gone out of his way to alienate the press. Now why would a candidate do that? Journalists are pissed and slamming in into him with such obvious gusto, one would have to admit is biased, even if true.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

The Bitch From Borlänge - Chapter 7


The Bitch From Borlänge

By Ellie of Cameron & Smoothy

Chapter 7


I took a walk in a nearby park to let my dye job set, read the paper and plan my next move. There was a crime report on page 2, posted by Inspector Johansson I suppose. It gave a description of Smoothy which might be helpful—or not. I doubt if the Rosengaard kats would be interested in helping the police as no reward’s been offered, but whatever.

I found an interesting notice on page 4. “FIFE International Cat Show, Malmo. Famous kats from around the world,” it said. A Persian glamour kat, Lulu Rashid, is expected to appear this weekend wearing a diamond collar worth millions. A bejeweled Siamese named Magnolia will also be showing off.

Sounds like Smoothy’s kind of bag, but will he dare to show?  It’s worth taking a sniff.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 6

The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 6


The Bitch From Borlänge

 Ellie of Cameron & Smoothy


I know a gig you might be interested in,” Snot barks. “Big Kat Show – Malmo, coming up. Some of the more famous felines will be wearing diamond collars. You could pull off a Kim Kardashian snatch, only for real.”

“We’ll think about it.” Diamonds are a Kat’s best friend
“I know a fence, a weasel with a pawn shop.” Snot tries to scratch an ear that he can’t reach. “He doesn’t ask a lot of questions. If you dudes get lucky. . . .”

“Yeah. We’ll let you know. This conversation never happened. Keep me posted . . .  anything you hear about the Bitch.”

“I loved her,” Pug slobbers. “She was—”

“Never mind. If she shows up you’ll get second chance,” I tell him as we leave. “Keep your eyes open.”

*         *          *
“Let’s go get some sushi,” I tell Willie as we step outside.

“Yeah, works for me. You want to watch some car fires after? Gonna be some.”

“I don’t know. I watched one burn last night. What’s that about?”

“Somethin’ to do, I guess. A kind of protest. Not so many of us happy here in Rosengaard.  The ones fell though all the safety nets, no skills, no education, families blown away to shit . . . this true for some of us. Some of us criminals already. Not much hope of glorious futures, but we make this place our own. The burnings just remind the others that we’re here, and pissed. Cops can’t do anything that’s not politically correct. The race card trumps in Sweden.”

“Umm. The Kat show might be easy money,” I tell Willie over salmon, sake, and some tako served with rice.

“We’ll check it out. See how things look. Those Kat shows usually run a couple days—the weekend. We’d have time to plan.”

“You doing to eat those Californa rolls?” he asks. Willie the Rat. He never stops eating—as for me, I watch my weight. You wanna be smooth, you gotta have a body that can back it up, and I’ve got that in spades—just sayin’.

“So.” The Яat’s cleaned both our plates and chewing on a chopstick. “What should we do next?”
I take a snort of nip as I get up.“Let’s go” I tell him. “We need details. A computer maybe.”
“You should have a cell phone, Smoothy. “You could look it up.”

“I don’t do cell phones. You get phone calls all the time, and cops can track those things—find out exactly where you are in real time.”

“Yeah. I don’t have one myself—the fees. I barely get enough to eat.” He snatches a discarded copy of an Alphbloreer newspaper somebody left on a three legged chair. “Might be an advertisement for the Kat thing here.” We pause for him to shuffle though the pages.

“Oy, look it’s you!” I see it without sitting down. Kat Burgler Hides in Rosengaard district—Police Baffled.

“There’s a picture of you.”

“Could be any Kat,” I tell him. “Яead what is says.”

“Ah . . . they’ve hired somebody, an investigator—female.”

“Well, that’s Sweden for you. What else does it say?”

“They are looking for a famous Scandinavian Kat burgler who pulled off some kind of international commodity crime—something to do with a hundred tons of sardines.”

“A hundred—really. Well, they do exaggerate, sometimes by underplay, or not . . . depending.”
“They go on to say he’s wanted for a dozen other crimes he perpetrated while in Germany and France. He sometimes poses as a suave, good looking, and well heeled, aristocrat with money stashed inside the bank of Kathmandu, Nepal, and—Oy! Here comes the worst part . . . name is Smoothy. Gives your weight and color—Black.”

“The racist bastards.”
Continued Weekly

Monday, October 10, 2016

The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 5

Chapter 5                                                                                                                 10 October 2016

The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 5

By Ellie of Cameron    & Smoothy



You can run, but you can’t hide.

I’m on the edge of the Rosengaard district. Going in might lead to trouble. A disguise might work, but what? Need time and space to think.

A bistro called, The Dog House, looks good for openers—an unpretentious sort of place, but clean. There’s a few bitches sharing opinions and dogwater at the bar—mixed breeds. A Rottweiler I recognize is sitting alone at a small table. Met him in Amsterdam last year, good looking dawg, but I ignore him, and he doesn’t notice me. I order snacks and sit down with the girls who sniff at me with curiosity.

“You new in town?” one asks while looking at my coat—appraisal.

“Yeah, just passing through. I’m looking for a kat. I think he’s somewhere inside Rosengaard.”

“Best you stay out of there,” a bleached blond poodle yips. “Bad dogs.”

I buy a round of bones and listen as the poodle yaps about a boutique where she gets her hair done—boring, but she gives me and idea. A die job might work. A dog in black, unkempt . . . a hippy hairdo.

“It’s divine,” she says—still running on. “It’s called, The Hair After.  Totally cool styalists It’s worth a grooming just to get a look at Mauice —from Paris. Hes an older dog, but very hot. Distinguished.”

“And gay as springtime,” says a basset sitting next to her.

“It’s getting late,” I told them. “Got to see a man about a dog.”

Hours later I came out of The Hair After a new hound, black hair, no curls— so sad to get them straightened out. I’m wearing an un-hairdo, wet fur outside air-dried. Hope no one I know will see me, but it’s doubtful they would recognize me if they did. Maurice is sniffing at me.

“Zo, perhaps when you arefinish with zis new look, you come back? I make your beauty once again appear. You are a hot dog, as they say in the U.S.”

“Sounds good” I tell him. Love his accent. Is he young enough to learn a few new tricks? I’m thinking as I hit the sidewalk. And what next? I ask myself. I need a cover story, reason to be here.

To be continued      Weekly instalments

Friday, October 7, 2016

Postcards From Another Point Of View – 7 October 2016 – Bath Night.

Postcard from Smoothy:

Well, this is so weird I have to share it with you. Tonight was Ellie’s bath night. It happens two or three times a month and I get to watch Mom work on her—makes the high light of my week.


The hound doesn’t seem to mind, but I don’t think she knows I’m watching— probably has soap in her eyes. Ellie is a very strange dog, but fun to watch.

So what are you looking at?

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 4


The Bitch From Borlänge – Chapter 4

By Ellie of Cameron & Smoothy

Smoothy – 4 October 2016

It’s early morning. Brilliant winter sun spills shadows over Rosengaard. Been here a few times, like I said before, I’ve been around. I’m on my way to one of those never-closed bars where you can do whatever you want, and others can do whatever they want to you. The Katacombs Klub. I’ll need to watch my back, but it’s a good place to find out what’s going on and safe enough for a kat like me. I’m totally not worried, padding down the street.
I was about to go inside when—“Hey Smooth.”
Can’t see who it is at first. Sun’s in my eyes.
“It’s me. Willie the Rat.”
“Hej, Willie. Been a while. Thought you were dead.”
“Not yet,” he says. “But not for lack of tryin’.”
Willie’s a Norwegian rat who fled to Sweden to avoid prosecution, or persecution over some kind of old cheese deal he made. He’s also wanted here, something about a passport—papers. Never asked him for the details. Better not to know. We did some business, couple years ago, but nothing big time.
“Looking for some action?”
“Looking to avoid someone who’s looking for me. Kind of like yourself,” I add. “But always curious. How ‘bout we go inside?”
It’s bark. My eyes had just adjusteb to the sun. I’m blind again, but now things start to come in focus. There’s some ominous pit bulls at a tadle chewing bones and talking—looking our way now.
“Keep moving,” Willie tells me.
A dozen kats are scattered here and there, some on the nod from too much nip. The others watch with blurry curiously. A pair of possums are doing sour apples at the end of the bar next to a bulldog, and a boxer— Pug I think his name is. Seen him around few times. There’s an empty space next to them and Willie seems to know the dogs. I’m not surprised.
“What up Snot?” He asks the bulldog.
“Not too much. You buyin?”
“Yeah, why not.”
We get sushi some and some ribs for the dogs, then share some Afghan nip which doesn’t seem to do much for the hounds.
“You boy’s lookin’ for something?” Snot asks.
“Maybe.” I say. “Right now we just want to be unnoticed.”
“This here’s Smoothy.” Willie introduces me to Snot, and Pug who’s staring at his dish as if it might give answers to his life.
“I well know everybody lookin for the Rat,” Snot tells me. “Who be after you?”
“The Bitch.”
“Snot drops his bone. “She here?”
“Not yet. That’s what I need to know. If you hear anything— I’ll throw you a few bones for your effort.”
“I hope you don’t mean that bitch. Ellie? One from Borläng?” Pug comes back to life.
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Oh, man. You’re fucked. That bitch is bad. Went a few rounds with me, then disappeared. No forwarding address. She was hot, good lookin, but a little over weight. Good nose. She’ll track you down. She bit my ear.” He show’s me what’s left of a califlower ear. “She’s vicious, and she’ll find you. That’s what she does.”
“Nobody’s found me yet. I’m slicker than most, and smother than the rest. But keep your good ear open. Like I said, might be a T-bone in it for you.”