Alfred Leslie Muirhead is a friend of mine from Corona, California. I didn’t actually know his name was Alfred until last night (April 30, 2014) when my friend Dave Colgin told me that Skippy Muirhead had died a few years earlier. i was shocked to hear that Alfred Leslie had passed away. Skip was a pretty cool friend and we always got along pretty well. My wife Briar met Skip when she lived in California back in 2009. Skip hooked us up with some illicit substances which turned out to be bunk but it wasn’t really his fault and he made it good. Skip was a hustler for sure but a cool guy and I had known him since I was about 14 when I met him down by the Showcase Theater in Corona, California. This was when the Showcase was still a movie theater. Dave told me that Skip died from toxemia due to using dirty needles. I don’t know if this is true since I wasn’t aware that he used intravenous drugs but its not really that much of a reach considering what I did know about Skip. I’m sorry to hear that he died though and I hope he is having a good time up there with Natalie Amador, Rick Minihan and Dennis Ducarte.
Its been an interesting day in Cyberspace. A perfect storm of sorts has come together and unleashed her fury on krashthrills.wordpress.com in the form of thousands and thousands of views of an article I wrote regarding Aaron Jacob Fosters yesterday. As of 7:01 p.m. tonight I have had 6,938 people from 11 countries visit my website and read what I wrote. There 3,583 clicks of links that I provided that contain more information/corroboration of the crimes that are
proven alleged by what I have written, all of which originated on the /b/ forum on 4chan.org. I want to take this opportunity to give props to the guys and girls who reside at /b/. They might be a little warped but collectively they hold a great deal of power in their fingertips. It was awesome to be a witness to this power as it unfolded. Awesome as in I was awestruck and still am. Certainly it is not a good idea to get on the bad side of a group that has this kind of power at its disposal. Even worse to do it when they are bored and frothing at the bit for something to do.
It seems a bit of a foregone conclusion that the consequences are going to be severe and swift for the individuals responsible for the degrading beat down and robbery of the still unnamed victim in this case. I feel absolutely no sympathy for the perpetrators. I don’t give a shit what they have to say about it or what their excuse is or if they even remember what they were doing because of intoxication levels , temporary amnesia etc. I really hope that prison is the end result for Aaron Jacob Parsons and everyone else involved, especially that annoying drunk bitch wearing her black panties parading around the street like she was some glamour queen. Fuck her. (man she STILL pisses me off)
The haters calling me racist can all suck it to be honest. I am not even going to bother addressing that accusation. It’s not true and my life and anything I’ve ever written in the past will attest to that FACT. So, hate on haters.
I got a call from a reporter named Justin from the Baltimore Sun. We talked for quite a few minutes about the origin of this situation, 4chan’s /b/ forum and more. His view, stated to me anyhow, was that this is an instance of the internet being used for good and he was quick to show his admiration for the detective work done by the /b/ forum lurkers. I agree wholeheartedly with this sentiment. Choosing to fight against the “forces that /b/ is the ultimate example of the idiot who brings a knife to a gun fight”.
Have a good night everyone……Anthony Mandich
hey justin it was good talking to you. i’m sending you this stuff before i even blog it so i must think you’re cool. just don’t get me killed lol.
I am literally blasting my music so fucking loud right now its sick. Taking full advantage of having a five bedroom house that I share with only one other human being and a bevy of friendly ghosts. May 1 is D-Day for Anthony Mandich, Artist and Urban Legend. I’m going to miss this house and Sean Stenlake my very good friend and his Playmate girlfriend Natasha (who is a hot little piece of ass let me tell you). I’m going to miss them for sure but I will still get to see them…probably more often then I do now actually.
Its the ghosts that I’m really going to miss. I don’t really think they are going to be following me and that causes a pain in my heart that you just wouldn’t understand.
I’m a creature of the night no doubt about that. I love being alone late late late as fucking hell at night on an empty freeway cruising to or from playing poker or just alone here in my room. I feel in tune with the ghosts that live in this room with me. Both of my grandparents used to live in this room. Both of my grandparents are dead. But not dead to me. You see they live in here with me. At least a part of them do. My grandpa Archie actually died in this house. Not in this room but downstairs surrounded by who knows how many people. The spectators, his children and grandchildren, nephews and nieces and cousins were kind enough to see him off as he began his journey…..back upstairs to my room hahahaha. He’ s here for sure.
He’s gotta be here or else tell me a reason why I get this insane urge to go out back and check on the fucking pigeons all the time! My grandpa loved pigeons and he used to raise them in Trinidad and in California. He was a funny and bad ass little bird man. Then there’s my grandmother, Granny Bayne. She didn’t really consider herself my grandmother in reality though. My mom had me when she was only 16, and of course still lived with her parents. She actually found out that she was preggers with me while the family was on the bloody boat to America. How funny is that? Hot. Anyways my grandma definitely considered me as her son. When I talk about Archie and Brenda Bayne in a special issue of People Who Died: Roll Call I’ll tell you guys some funny as shit stories about my granny. She was so rad and believe me she inhabits this room for sure for sure for sure.
There is one more ghost that stays in this room with me and I feel like she is protecting me and I am protecting her. She makes my heart hurt so bad sometimes that I almost can’t handle the overwhelming enormity of the pure emotion that washes over me. Tears goosebumps and all sorts of familiar (since Valentine’s Day 09) and oddly comforting feelings. That’s my sister Natalie Ann Mandich Amador. My little sister Nat. She loved to stay awake late too and she lived in this room for a few years. She’s my little voice of reason a lot of nights, I swear she actually talks to me and I know that sometimes she is a bit jealous that I’m taking off to enter the world of the night outside this room. I’m sure she cruises other places too but I get this feeling that she is as comfortable as an old family dog when I’m here just internetting it up or doing my paintings and pantings hahahaha. She loves it when I’m here and I’m going to miss her so much when I am forced to leave.
People that read this are going to say that they are going to be with me forever in my heart and all that shit. I don’t want to hear it honestly although I do truly appreciate the effort. Its just not going to be the same. For instance I’m currently blasting 2+2=5 by Radiohead as I type this. I got this guy Aaron Maturino over at my house right now. I’m pretty much ignoring him and I’m lost in my head but not totally lost because my grandparents are there too watching me…I can sense my granny always getting ready to give me some sort of advice like she always did. Even as a ghost I just brush it off like I always did. I loved giving her shit so she would cluck away like a wounded chicken it was one of my favorite pastimes. Nat’s here too she wants to go to the casino with me I can feel that and since I’m going and she can’t she’s not that stoked and she wants me to hang out here all night. I can’t do that but I will leave the Radiohead blaring away for her. Fuck it.
This entry is about me just cherishing the tried and tested and dysfunctionality of my life here on 2654 Steeplechase Way for the last ten days. Part of that is of course leaving for the night at 2 in the morning to return when the sun is out. Doing what I want as one of God’s children free to roam the planet as a living human being for at least one more day. This entry is about me going to challenge fate and destiny and the sheep that live here while evading the true forces of destructo nightmares that are always chasing me and beckoning me closer. Thank God I have Nat to steer me clear of that riffraff.
Come with me Granny Grandpa and Natalie. Follow me wherever I go and lets continue our ludicrous adventure forever can we? With Radiohead providing the auditory stylings of course. I certainly hope it all comes out the way I envision it. Purple skies and floating along with all of my thousands of girlfriends, all of us just being hot forever. I can’t believe I’m going to post this nonsense but I am. I have no shame so fuck it and have a good night for the three of you that read all the way to this point I love you thanks a million.
The title of this post is an excerpt from an actual email I received from a female companion of mine from the past. Yes, we were sexually involved. Ha ha ha, I’m not too sure what conclusion you can draw from that but it was fun to type…
For those who were expecting this post to be Part II of my series, People Who Died: Roll Call, I’m sorry to let you down. I will keep everyone informed on how I am going to approach that series once I make a decision. What I’m starting to think is that I may be breaking it down to the point where I will only have one person featured per post. That way I can really get into some juicy ass details on each person I write about without feeling like I’m under pressure to cut my flow of thoughts off prematurely.
The first part of that series, I talked about five people. Four of them were totally good people and one was a scumbag killer fat piece of shit named Joel Brown. The only reason I’m mentioning him now is because he was a real scumbag. I mention this for the benefit of the special individual after whose letter to me I’ve graced the title of this post. I’m no scumbag. People that rob pot dealers and take all of their money, weed, other assorted valuables as well as MURDERING THEM are scumbags. If you weren’t such a soft ass you would realize the difference but your sheltered, elite upbringing behind the Orange curtain has left you with the common sense of a pet bunny rabbit. Hopefully you will never be exposed to the true scum of this earth. You can however read about them on sites like People You Will See in Hell where you will find that your perception of what a scumbag I am is pretty fucking far from reality. \
It’s 2:02 a.m. Friday, March 25th, 2011 as I write this. I am definitely in the mood to get right into a good little story but unfortunately I have to take off right now. I’m going to pick up my friend Heather McGovern who just got off of work at Michelle’s bar in Corona, California. We are going to go check out some late night casino action, probably at Pechanga Casino. Neither of us really have any money but we have a good time generally, when we hang out so…..I’m off to see the wizard. I’ll continue this later.
7:46 a.m. now and I just got home from Pechanga Casino. Do I have a dollar in m my pocket that I didn’t have before? I’d be fronting, I’d by lying if I said I made a score. Yikes, I’m in this rhyming, sing song frame of mind because I was making up insulting hip songs about this guy Joey Rausa on the drive home. I’m hoping that none of my family members read this particular post actually, because, Mr. Rausa is definitely persona non grata to my family, excluding me. They all hate him for reasons I understand conceptually but have a difficult time empathizing with overall. Reason being, I was never around these parts when Joey had his heyday with my sister Natalie. Oh, I guess I need to back up and tell you that Natalie, my sister who is now residing in a heart shaped urn on one of the shelves in my mother’s house in La Quinta, California, and Joey the bald headed boy
wonder were involved in an over the top, soap operaish type relationship for years and years. She left her husband Mitch, again for reasons I’m not completely familiar with, probably about 13 years ago or something like that. To be blunt, he bored her to tears. That’s basically how she broke it down for me. While she was still alive I really didn’t have anything to do with him at all. When I got back from New Zealand in May of 2008 the two of them were broken up…..ish. I know she did still see him but she tried to keep it a secret thing for the most part rather then risk the condemnation of my family. My mom, especially, was very anti Rausa and she erupted like a mini volcano at the mere mention of his name. You know what I’m going to stop with this line of thinking right now but I promise you that I have pages and pages of future ramblings that you will be privileged enough to read about at some point.
On the way back from the casino just now, I was thinking rather heavily about this blog and what I want to do with it. I have so many crazy fucking stories to relate and I really want to write them all out via this blog and then at some undetermined future point, put the whole ball of wax into some sort of publishable form which will lead to my fame, fortune and notoriety. I’ve got tales of punk rock decadence, skateboarding insanity, sexual debauchery in the extreme, chemically induced memories of many different geographical locations, bartending adventures, poverty level survival stories, extremely high variance gambling tales, sad tales of loss and defeat, as well as against all odds tales of notable achievements and glorious victories and I suppose at the end of the day many many stories involving the one constant in everything I write about. Me. Anthony J. Mandich.
Stay tuned I hope you do. I’m going to try and stay alive long enough to not only get all of the old stories out but also hopefully long enough to consolidate all this shit into one of those fairy tale redepmtion feel good miracle comeback stories that will leave all of the females damp with their desire to take me under their pendulous busty wings and squeeze me hard enough to make my big head explode. Lofty goals. Good times.
Gonna go now and see if I can’t get my garage sale going even though presently we have “inclement” weather conditions. Nothing can stop me lol. I’ll probably have a double posting day to be honest so lets use this one as a little appetizer for the main course to follow in a dozen hours or so okay? Have a good Friday children…..
I got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night. Do you ever just wake up in a good mood and kinda know that whatever you get up to that day its gonna be all good? I got that feeling today. I slept for hours upon hours. Ya see I’ve been on a crazy painting streak for days basically sleeping only when I fall asleep from exhaustion and waking up and painting again. Last night, or really this morning about 4:30 a.m. I took a super hot bath that drained the last remaining vestiges of energy from my body and I got out threw on my calvin kleins and hopped in my bed with the dogs and didn’t even stir until 3pm. It was fucking great.
I took my bed out of my room because there is NO ROOM for it anymore with all of my paintings and shit all over the place. We have like a living room type situation upstairs and I just put it out there. The only sorta fucked up thing about it being out there is Woody and Snickers refuse to get out of it. I mean I can physically maim them to get them out but as soon as I go back into my painting studio the fucking dogs are right back in there. And these dogs are not content to just lay on top of the bed down below where “Master’s” feet go like a couple of good dogs would do. Since they are not good dogs they feel it imperative to lay on top of my pillows (Snickers) or underneath the blankets (Woody). I personally don’t feel like this is correct behavior for these dogs but they are unruly delinquent beasts and I can’t tell them what to do it seems.
Oh well, my mom’s gonna be home soon like in four days or something. She’s on vacation in the Cayman Islands and when she gets back she can pack up her mutts and take them back to Palm Desert where she lives in some Country Club place on the golf course. Let them run amok at her house and good riddance. I did film about 12 bad ass videos of them while they were here visiting. Funny as hell ones. Making them howl at the moon, getting Snickers to butt ram Woody, locking them in Doggy Jail and seeing if they can get out, putting them out in the front and leaving the screen door shut but the front door open until they incessantly would jump and scratch on the screen door while I ignored them, cooking food and getting them all pumped up like they are going to get some then telling them to eat my balls they ain’t getting shit and filming their sad, confused, disturbed reactions hahahahahaha. Watching Snickers empty all the trash cans everywhere and chew up everything until the house looks like a dump and then film Snickers get just screamed at by my Uncle Gordon. All sorts of tasty visual treats that I may or may not share with my adoring public at some point.
Okay well I’m listening to some Notorious B.I.G. Life after Death Disc 1 which is so bad ass. I’m gonna paint for a bit then maybe go play some poker with Darin “Dazzzzza” Byrne, a friend of mine who is a d.j. at Captain Creme’s Gentlemen’s Club in Lake Forest. I’ll let you know how the night turns out.
By the way, I got an unbelievable response to my post about Billy Wedgeworth and my sister Natalie Amador and the whole Suicide in Jail issue. I mean like 150 more hits then I normally get on my blog which is like maybe 80 per day. So thanks for that support everyone.
You should know my stilo, went from 10gs for blow to 30g’s a show to orgies with whores I’ve never seen before so Jeeeeeesus get off the notorious PEEEEEEEEEEEEEnis before I squeeze and bust if the beef between us we can settle it with the chrome and metal shit…….
This is in response to the following article in the Orange County Register and several comments posted by people on the OCR Website.
Here are two of the comments that I am responding to. The one from haminator has several back and forth replies that can be seen at the link above.
5:03 PM on August 2, 2010
Shouldn’t it be “Man hung self” ? The OCR title just doesn’t sound right. Either way, um…shouldn’t Newport Beach PD perhaps begin to instill a new regime of perhaps checking on their arrestees more often so people don’t do this? Whether or not people are suicidal perhaps taking away whatever it is they are using to hang themselves with may be a good idea. I’m just sayin.
3:25 PM on August 2, 2010
This guy looks like he was a pretty well-rounded “jurk.” In OC alone he was convicted of two felonies for fighting and spousal abuse, along with numerous traffic and other violations (even a misdemeanor for not properly restraining his dog). I apologize if this isn’t the same guy, but it looks like he may have done us all a big favor.
MY THOUGHTS ON SUICIDES IN JAILS
1ANGELSFAN: In my opinion it should be “Man hung himself In Newport Beach Jail.” You are correct, that title just looks awkward, even if it is proper grammar. As to the story itself, regardless of an inmates desire to take his/her life when incarcerated, I believe it is the duty of the Jail Staff, to make provisions to ensure that this “desire” is not carried out successfully. I speak from hard experience on this one as my sister, Natalie Ann Amador, took her own life in the exact same way on Valentine’s Day, 2009 in the Robert Presley Detention Center (Riverside County).
She was found dead in her cell at 12:20 p.m. on a Saturday in a brand new jail. I’m not here to do any ax grinding but just to point out something that I guess the personnel of jails everywhere just don’t seem to understand. Many studies have shown that the vast majority of inmate suicides have taken place during the first 72 hours after arrest. This is probably due to many factors and I don’t need to list all of them here. For my sister I think it was a combination of being super bummed she got arrested and was definitely facing some time along with being forced to come off of drugs in a way that must be shocking to a habitual users psyche.
The reasons why aren’t really as important to me as the need for Correctional Facilities to come to grips with the reality of this phenomenon and take proactive measures to ensure it doesn’t happen anymore. I knew Billy Wedgeworth and yes he did have issues but I’m not one to judge anyone for anything. His issues notwithstanding, he should still be alive. Dollars to donuts if he could somehow, someway, be given a choice whether or not to follow through with what I’m sure was an act of impulsive desperation say today for instance, I have serious doubts as to whether he would go through with it. I truly feel that the same can be said for the majority of these people (like my sister Natalie). I read one comment that summarized the situation quite adeptly…”a permanent solution to a temporary problem”.
I also read some other comments and the responses to them. It is nobody’s place to judge a person’s life except for God right? It seems especially ignorant to judge a persons life based upon an arrest record that is retrieved online via the Superior Court’s website and which contains zero details regarding whatever incident the person has been convicted of except for the date of the conviction and sentence administered. Common sense should tell you that you are not seeing the whole picture in that scenario. So to go on a public forum, armed with zero credible info and start badmouthing a person who just ended their life suddenly is both inappropriate and cruel. You do this, knowing full well that the deceased person has friends, relatives etc. that are going to be anxiously combing the internet, searching for information about their deceased loved one. More then likely, they are going to come across your poorly researched jibber jabber and your stupid thoughtlessness is going to do nothing but further inflame an already tense situation. Get a life man. You are no expert so shut the hell up. I’m just saying.
Really though, all of the above is just filler to be honest. The bottom line is that it doesn’t matter if the inmate is Satan’s Son, and really really wants to end his life. The police/jail has taken it upon themselves to take “custody” of the individual. That custody comes with responsibility in my opinion. A responsibility to provide a reasonable standard of care for the person while they are guests of the jail is not too much to ask is it? Some kind of mandatory extra precautionary period for at least the first few days of incarceration is appropriate. Given the myriad number of suicides that have taken place in jails all over the nation, especially in the first 72 hours after arrest, I believe that it should be mandatory. It should be part of the regular routine of adjusting and acclimating oneself to the conditions they are going to have to endure while in custody. If this procedure saves even one persons life, then its worth and is also not too much to ask.
I love my sister and I know many people loved Billy and thats with her flaws and thats with his flaws. We would rather them be alive if it could be at all helped. I think it can. Please encourage this to be more of a priority in the future somehow. Thank you.