Oh yeah. They wanna make ravens out of all of us. Like, how many ravens can a guy see in Miami, Fla.? Don’t not ask me how, but I did see a raven. Kind of a square head, looked downtrodden, dusty, sickened, perhaps because of the heat. I thought about Edgar Allen Poe’s “Nevermore,” and even said it to the raven as I was leaving a book store. I had bought some books about history of the Kennedy assassination. Sitting there, juggling around in that plastic retail bag, the books were just waiting to be read. You know, like books do; they wait to to be read, not said. Oh yeah, I say that a lot. Oh yeah, like I’m the Kool-Aid Man. Oh yeah!
It was fricking hot out here in Daytona Beach, and yes, it was surprising to see a raven that had flown so far south. What had happened to the bird? Did his birdie radar get interrupted by all those microwaves in the air courtesy of iPads, cell phones, radio waves, satellite dishes, know what I mean? Poor bird. He looked like he was gonna croak.
“Poor raven,” I said (I am a little odd in that I speak to animals above ground), really feeling sympathy for the poor black bird. I love animals. Sometimes I think animals are smarter than we think they are. Oh yeah. A raven greeting me in a parking lot, and then I’m off, headed for home, on foot, like a human, leaving the bookstore holding books on the big Kennedy assassination conspiracy. Jim Marr, Alex Jones, Whitley Strieber, books that inspire those guys. Even Don DeLillo has gotten into the conspiracy game with Libra, his fictional “literary account” of the life and capture and eventual death of Lee Harvey.
Ever see that weird video in which a local Dallas news reporter calls Oswald “Lee H. Oswald”? That’s fricking chilly, ain’t it? You can find it on YouTube if you want a look-see there. Oh yeah.
I was so excited about those conspiracy books that I wasn’t watching what I was doing. I hit a fork in the road, was getting ready to go left, when out of the blue, a big baby-blue Cadillac sped within inches of me, almost hitting me.
Was that a conspiracy, too? Oh yeah, I’m betting on it.
Have you ever noticed how everything seems like a conspiracy when something really bad happens and you do not understand why it happened? I live close to where the space shuttles are launched, and, oh yeah, when those two shuttles crashed and burned, I thought: Wait until I hear what George Noory on Coast to Coast AM, late night talk, has to say about them. Sure enough, Noory was all over the conspiracy angle. So was Alex Jones. To Alex, every danged thing is a false flag operation. 9/11? False Flag. Oh yeah. The Fort Hood shooting? False flag. Benghazi? False flag. What in the United States isn’t a false flag operation? Bohemian Grove. All the big prostituting businesspeople go there to hook-up with teenaged girls. False flag.
I have a friend named Tom Gomez; he lives in a trailer park. His trailer house is a single-wide. Can’t afford a double-wide. He is really into Masonic conspiracies like the Illuminati. The Michele Bachman “save the incandescent light bulbs” campaign. The pray away the gay conspiracies. The pray to create the gay conspiracies. Oh yeah. Tom Gomez is full of The Organization of Odd Fellows. The Elks. The Rotary Club. Scottish Rite. Conspiracy bongo-bonanza, all that’s my friend Tom Lopez.
Tom is from Mesa, AZ, the desert. He moved to Florida because he wanted to see the sea just once in his life.
Tom Gomez has cancer.
Oh yeah. I could not wait to see Tom Gomez lighting up with the little book I got for him. Quid pro quo, dude. He’s a real friend, he’s dying and I care a lot about the guy.
I got him a book about the greys—the aliens like ET who supposedly came from the Pleiades star cluster. Are they the Anunnaki. I am not so certain I know if that is the correct spelling. I’m not such a great speller, but I always fail to even bother with that spell check on my computer, as portable as The Book of Enoch, and Enoch walked with God.
Was Enoch a space prisoner? Oh yeah. My friend Tom Gomez is gonna really love this book.