DATELINE 5/4/2004 SAN ONOFRE CA
OTTO HEIMLIN HAS FINGERS RESEMBLING LITTLE BRATWURST SAUSAGES.
Maybe because he was born in Frankfurt, 1960. He migrated
legally to the USA, applied for a position as State Trooper,
was accepted, and placed as Park Ranger. Today, he stands
on the rim of the smoldering crater once known as BIGKOOK'S
Bamboo Forest and Banana Plantation. Park Ranger Ephriam
exposed the secret trap door to 'KOOK'S concrete bunker,
undetected until Herr Gunner torched the foliage in one felt
swoop, like, WHOOSH ,and it was gone, napalm flame throwers
are not pretty.
"Ready for inspection, Herr Heimlin," said Ranger, giving
Heimlin the thumbs up.
"Very well, Ranger, ser goot ja", said Heimlin as he looked
down at the trap door just the size for a man to squirm into, "Give me the lamp, Dairywimple." Dairywimple handed
him the flashlight.
"Raus, appel, immediately, swinehundt," said Otto Heimlin,
his voice showing a tinge of irritation.
"He's not responding, sir," said Ranger.
"Herr Gunner, bring the flame, smoke him out. Now!
Gunner aimed the flame thrower at the trap door, roared
it to get the occupants attention. Heimlin detected
movement in the bunker.
"Come out, now," said Heimlin, "with your hands in the air."
The occupant trembling, obviously shaken, ascended the
concrete and steel stairs. Beach spectators closed
in on the hole as the occupant climbed from it. There
was gasps coming from everyone including Range Ephriam.
Stepping into the morning mist, into the sunlight, emerged
of all people--TERRY BEARD.
TUBESTEAK/TAKEN.BY.SURPRISE

FIRST OFF, THANK YOU RANGER DAIRYWIMPLE. Although the boys
from upstairs are here for the Beach Tour, Ranger Dairywimple
hooked us up with the Lifeguards phone line so we could
bring you a direct report on the day's activities, so here
goes. At 8:00 AM sharp, Superintendent Schnabel, Commadant
Otto Heimlin, and Deputy Herr Gunner, arrived in the State's
Olive Drab Humvee 4A, pulled directly in front of Stalag 4.
Alighting from the vehicle, Commadant Gunner had at his side
a 25,000 BTU flame thrower, cocked and ready to go. Commadant
Heimlin motioned Ranger Ehriam to the "primitive dirt road"
and asked the Ranger, exactly what is going on here? Ranger
was terrified. Commadant repeated the question and Ranger
frightened he broke down, sobbing and weeping ucontrolably.
Heimlin was not happy with this outbreak he said look above
on the ridge, "Do you know why those Ready Mix trucks are
there, Ranger?" Well I'll tell you why. Concrete will be
poured down the bluff, over the road, across the sand, to
the mean high tide mark. Your San Onofre will be a massive parking terminal. "Think it over, Ranger, in two hours
the area will be paved, striped and ready for business."
Do you hear me? Ephriam gulped, quivered momentarily.
"Yes sir, loud and clear" Fine, hen we understand each other. This was to demoralizing. We've seen enough, but shall return manana.
TUBESTEAK/NO.PITY

DATELINE 6/1/2004 SAN ONOFRE CA
"I FOUGHT THE LAW AND THE LAW WON!" REMEMBER THAT SONG?
This afternoon Ranger Ephriam will visit Oceanside
Army/Navy store to purchase his new, "NO MORE MR.NICE GUY"
Bulky Tee to wear at the Big Pow Wow with the the State Honchos
tomorrow, regarding the condition of San Onofre Family Kennel
and Recreational Area (mainly TEAMBIGKOOK'S hobo jungle), its
problems, dilemmas, Park Rules and Regs ongoing violations,
and more importantly, presentation of the grant deed, entitling
SOSC BOD to Fee Simple rights to the beach. Regional Supervisor
Hans Schnable will document Forrestor Ranch is the sole proprietor of the beach, subletting to CA State Park for safety
and maintenance, not the SOSC BOD. My answer to the Club's
whining, is dump a couple of "Daisy Cutters" dead center on the
Rain Forrest and Banana Plantation in front of Bldg.#4 Toilets
#1 and #2. The real solution is pouring concrete from the bluff
to the mean high tide mark.
TUBESTEAK/PAVEING.THE.WAVE












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DATELINE 5/30/1960 HERMOSA BEACH CA
MEMORIAL DAY IS MEMORIAL, DAY NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE.
Monday morning was cold and damp for that special morning in
Hermosa Beach. "Hap" stood at the door of his Jacobs'
Surfboard shop on Valley Drive, watching the early arrivals
preparing for their trip to Malibu. Dave Puissinger circled
his 1928 International Motor's Milk Wagon for final inspection, it's open bed decorated by Sparkle Eyes, Monkee, and Melinda
Lust, with red, white, and blue, balloons, crepe paper, and tassels dangling inward from the roof. Chubby Mitchell, Buddy
Boy Keohe, J.J.Moon, the real Tubesteak, with the three girls,
took their seat in the back, Puissinger, an Adolph Hitler
look-a-like, gunned the engine, cheers coming from the shop.
Chubby opened a gallon of Gorden's Gin, poured it into four
empty emptied orange juice cartons filled with ice, added
lots of grapefruit juice, stirred while the milk wagon headed north on Valley toward Malibu, followed by the procession
including Rick Hatch, Mike Searcy, Jim Whicker, Jackson
Snider, the Lovell Brothers, with balloons snapping in the
wind. The time was 8:00 AM. The entourage was Malibu bound.
Soon enough, they passed Playa del Rey, Venice, yelling at the bikers fighting in the Saucy Dog parking lot, this one leather shrouded long hair whipping his "woman" with a 12' bull whip.
From there they passed through the McClure Tunnel where
Olympic Blvd. empties onto PCH. As they pass Sunset Blvd.
they're feeling pretty good and pretty loud. By now the gin
was flowing real good. Soon enough, they passed The Sea Lion restaurant, victory was minutes away. Puissinger drove his
milk wagon passed the Pier toward the turn-around at Serra
Retreat Road, swung a Huey ,and amid of waiting beach
bums, who saved the #1 parking place at the foot of
the L.A.County Lifeguard tower, parked, revved the old engine,
quickly turned the key on and off causing a mass backfire
heard a mile away. Kemp Aaberg, lifeguard, reached for the
direct line to the Sheriff Station. The welcome committee
swarmed on the milk wagon like "flies on dogshit". With the
three girls and the drunks, all hell broke loose. Baby Alan
Gomes arrives, talks Buddy Boy into a chug-a-lug contest,
then things started to get out of hand. It's 11:30 AM, the
milk wagon is way overloaded, some of the gin drinkers are violently ill, Lifeguard Kemp could no longer handle things
called the Sheriff two miles down PCH, saying Guard needs
assistance. Aaberg hangs up turns in his tower to face the
spectacle below, shakes his head to and fro, sits down,
and waits. Thirty minutes later a black and white arrives
from the south, sees the disturbance, but has to go pass
the milk wagon to make the U turn. By then the revilers
abandon ship, scatter, when the Sheriff arrives the #1
parking spot is virtually empty, save for the milk wagon.
Aaberg looks at Sheriff with a sheepish grin of I'm sorry. Sheriff departs for headquarters. Peturbed at the
inconveniance, Ricky Hatch pours a can of Bardahl into
Searcy's Studebaker, starts the engine, and he has a smoke
bomb which blankets PCH, totally causing a complete gridlock.
Another call to Sheriff, who arrives late, and again the
milk wagon is abandoned. Sheriff looks up at Aaberg who
has the same sheepish grin. Amid all the smoke, in front
of the beach, Chubby Mitchell, 5'6'', 260 lbs., walks
through the cars to the PCH meridian, separating north and
south traffic, turns facing north, releases his laundry,
throws a wicked BA just as a back up CHP is driving north.
The bums are screaming, Chubby, the cops, get over here.
Chubby hikes his black Frisco jeans, just as a pack of black
and whites swarm the milk wagon. Chubby doesn't wait. He runs
straight for the water, ducks is head, and swims out,
his head looking like a seal. This was too much for the beach bums, the Sheriffs, and least of all, Kemp Aaberg. Everyone on the beach, including the CHP, broke out in laughter, Chubby
stole the show.
TUBESTEAK/EYEWITNESS

DATELINE 5/31/2004 SAN ONOFRE CA
GLUTTONY IS A SIN. FAMILIA LOS VERDES HAD A FOOD FEST NEVER
before witnessed on the west coast, or anywhere else for that
matter. The huge feat consisted of barbacoa pollo, beautiful chicken franks, burgers al carbon, macaroni, potato, cole slaw, salads, chips 'n dips, and an non-stop fountain of Margaritas, white paper napkins, clean utensils, pies, cakes, a custard
for the chewing impaired, the works, easily a feast fit for a King. THEBIGKOOK made his presence felt by consuming a total
of twelve hot-dogs, nine chicken franks char burned, four
pounds of macaroni salad, washing it all down with twenty two double Maggies. It was a festival of red, white, and blue,
veiled tents, a brown station wagon the rangers mistook for a Taliban terrorist suicide bomber, issued an alert because of
the shade bearing protective cloths, giving the appearance of Yasha Arafats turbin.There were bugles sounding like Gunga
Din. The real crowd pleaser, cherry pit spitting contest,
parachute entrance of a Legend's Legend, Officer Bob, Ranger Ephriam who couldn't get enough of the bull-horn gadgets,
The one thing missing, a paddle out for a 'Nofreite, but that
time shall come. I think the suicide bombers in the turbinized vehicle loved the new 'Nofre tradition, "The Calvacade of Huge,
Stupid Looking, Dogs" being paraded back and forth on the "primitive dirt road". Actually the fifty dog 'Calvacade'
was the frosting on the cake. Congrats 'Nofre you're a hit.
TUBESTEAK/AWESOME