ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?
I love whacky conspiracy theories. I really do. The ability to take a number of coincidences and come up with a (semi) coherent theory of what *really* happened is in the best tradition of Sherlock Holmes. Thus, I am like a pig in poop right now.
First, this weekend (November 22) will be the fortieth anniversary of one of the great conspiracy-launchers of all time—John Kennedy's assassination in Dallas. This is a FANTASTIC page for exploring the various theories, as well as the little tidbits you won't get elsewhere, like the fact that the CIA head fired by JFK was on the Warren Commission! Maybe the CIA DID do it…
Second, with John Allen Mohammed's conviction for the D.C. sniper shootings (technically conspiracy, terrorism, and some other didn't-pull-the-trigger capital charges) at least one whacko has come out of the woodwork. On the Yahoo! message board associated with the conviction story, the following was posted by someone calling himself coalitionfordisclosure:
"And, in another bizarre twist (only one of many, I suspect we're going to see before this all plays out ...), remember that curious Cherokee tale that the snipers "demanded" Captain Moose quote from on National Television, only a few hours before they were "captured" ("The Rabbit Goes Duck Hunting," from "Myths of the Cherokee," by James Mooney)?
Moose said--
"You have indicated that you want us to do and say certain things. You've asked us to say, quote, We have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose, end quote. We understand that hearing us say this is important to you ..."
Well, it didn't make sense that night ... and it STILL doesn't make any sense -- unless, it was actually a Code ... telling the snipers "it's time to GIVE UP," to literally put their heads "in the noose!"
Which, of course, would explain the impossible: why the two most wanted men in America that night, after a three-week killing spree, were found peacefully sleeping in a brilliantly-lit roadside rest ... knowing (because it was ALL over the radio and TV) that every cop on the Eastern Seaboard was bearing down on a "blue Caprice, with New Jersey license plates."
Can anyone say "mind control?" Or "MK Ultra?""
Now, that is beautiful. It leaves out the obvious source of the mind control (Mohammed was in the United States Army), but I'm sure they will pick that up somewhere later in the thread. It also demands that we crawl inside the head of a crazy man and divine his thoughts. It is almost perfect in conspiracy terms. I love it.
OR ARE YOU LOOKING AT US?
Today I had Chinese food for lunch. It came with a fortune cookie. The fortune said, "there is a true and sincere friendship between you both."
Do I have multiple personality disorder and the fortune cookie is just too tactful to say so? What is this?
MY NEW HEAD
This weekend I finally got another haircut. I have written before about the Barber (September 13), but it always fun to go in there. This Saturday I arrived at 8:50. I said in September that 8:50 might get you number 10. Well, 8:45 got me number 13. That should have been a clue. Still, I had the paper, bought a coffee, and settled down for my usual gamble. I know I wouldn't skip 22 numbers like the guy in September did, but I figured to be out of there by 10:30.
The Shop was empty. There was a guy in the chair, and me. Four times. Four times, as the Barber started shaving sideburns and neck (the last step before you are done), a guy would walk in with a number lower than mine. Four times, I was ready to spring into the chair, and four times I got stoned. I ended up not skipping even a single number. I left at about noon. It was the rudest display of conscientious number returning I have ever seen.
CONFESSION TIME
I cannot avoid this confession. It is tied to my self perception too deeply to hide it. On Saturday I went to the Barber Shop, and got a Starbuck's while I waited. This is not too terrible a sin, since the Starbuck's is the next door over and the gas station is the only other place to get coffee over there.
L and I met at the always fabulous SuVan's for lunch. We then picked up our dry cleaning.
After lunch I went to get an oil change. While I waited, I ran over to the Oberweis Dairy on Fullerton (notice it is dead center in the middle of the Trixie map) for milk and two little ice creams.
I then went home. However, on the way, I stopped at a cheese shop and got a third of a pound of goat gouda and a third of a pound of iberico with a baguette so L and I could have a snack that afternoon.
Sunday morning I dropped L off for choir practice before 10:30 Mass and went to Julius Meinl where I got a mélange. I spent the next couple of hours with my Sunday New York Times and my mélange, until Mass.
I have become what I loath. I am a yuppie. My only hope is that at 32, I will be aged out of the category soon.
I love whacky conspiracy theories. I really do. The ability to take a number of coincidences and come up with a (semi) coherent theory of what *really* happened is in the best tradition of Sherlock Holmes. Thus, I am like a pig in poop right now.
First, this weekend (November 22) will be the fortieth anniversary of one of the great conspiracy-launchers of all time—John Kennedy's assassination in Dallas. This is a FANTASTIC page for exploring the various theories, as well as the little tidbits you won't get elsewhere, like the fact that the CIA head fired by JFK was on the Warren Commission! Maybe the CIA DID do it…
Second, with John Allen Mohammed's conviction for the D.C. sniper shootings (technically conspiracy, terrorism, and some other didn't-pull-the-trigger capital charges) at least one whacko has come out of the woodwork. On the Yahoo! message board associated with the conviction story, the following was posted by someone calling himself coalitionfordisclosure:
"And, in another bizarre twist (only one of many, I suspect we're going to see before this all plays out ...), remember that curious Cherokee tale that the snipers "demanded" Captain Moose quote from on National Television, only a few hours before they were "captured" ("The Rabbit Goes Duck Hunting," from "Myths of the Cherokee," by James Mooney)?
Moose said--
"You have indicated that you want us to do and say certain things. You've asked us to say, quote, We have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose, end quote. We understand that hearing us say this is important to you ..."
Well, it didn't make sense that night ... and it STILL doesn't make any sense -- unless, it was actually a Code ... telling the snipers "it's time to GIVE UP," to literally put their heads "in the noose!"
Which, of course, would explain the impossible: why the two most wanted men in America that night, after a three-week killing spree, were found peacefully sleeping in a brilliantly-lit roadside rest ... knowing (because it was ALL over the radio and TV) that every cop on the Eastern Seaboard was bearing down on a "blue Caprice, with New Jersey license plates."
Can anyone say "mind control?" Or "MK Ultra?""
Now, that is beautiful. It leaves out the obvious source of the mind control (Mohammed was in the United States Army), but I'm sure they will pick that up somewhere later in the thread. It also demands that we crawl inside the head of a crazy man and divine his thoughts. It is almost perfect in conspiracy terms. I love it.
OR ARE YOU LOOKING AT US?
Today I had Chinese food for lunch. It came with a fortune cookie. The fortune said, "there is a true and sincere friendship between you both."
Do I have multiple personality disorder and the fortune cookie is just too tactful to say so? What is this?
MY NEW HEAD
This weekend I finally got another haircut. I have written before about the Barber (September 13), but it always fun to go in there. This Saturday I arrived at 8:50. I said in September that 8:50 might get you number 10. Well, 8:45 got me number 13. That should have been a clue. Still, I had the paper, bought a coffee, and settled down for my usual gamble. I know I wouldn't skip 22 numbers like the guy in September did, but I figured to be out of there by 10:30.
The Shop was empty. There was a guy in the chair, and me. Four times. Four times, as the Barber started shaving sideburns and neck (the last step before you are done), a guy would walk in with a number lower than mine. Four times, I was ready to spring into the chair, and four times I got stoned. I ended up not skipping even a single number. I left at about noon. It was the rudest display of conscientious number returning I have ever seen.
CONFESSION TIME
I cannot avoid this confession. It is tied to my self perception too deeply to hide it. On Saturday I went to the Barber Shop, and got a Starbuck's while I waited. This is not too terrible a sin, since the Starbuck's is the next door over and the gas station is the only other place to get coffee over there.
L and I met at the always fabulous SuVan's for lunch. We then picked up our dry cleaning.
After lunch I went to get an oil change. While I waited, I ran over to the Oberweis Dairy on Fullerton (notice it is dead center in the middle of the Trixie map) for milk and two little ice creams.
I then went home. However, on the way, I stopped at a cheese shop and got a third of a pound of goat gouda and a third of a pound of iberico with a baguette so L and I could have a snack that afternoon.
Sunday morning I dropped L off for choir practice before 10:30 Mass and went to Julius Meinl where I got a mélange. I spent the next couple of hours with my Sunday New York Times and my mélange, until Mass.
I have become what I loath. I am a yuppie. My only hope is that at 32, I will be aged out of the category soon.
posted by David at 1:21 PM
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