Posts Tagged ‘conspiracy theories’

Hi, I’m Michael Fisher, the host of “Those Amazing Humans” (the runaway hit of the Summer). Something stranger than usual happened to me the other day. A woman I had never seen showed up on my doorstep. She did no more than stare at me vacantly through her extreme horn-rimmed glasses, under her extreme raven-dyed bangs, before handing me a plain brown envelope. Then she turned her lab-coated back to me and strode with new purpose to her Subaru Forester and out of my life.

I went inside the mobile mansion, sat down in my dingy recliner and opened the envelope. The contents were murky, their meaning elusive, if indeed meaning is intended. I’m not sure they are the products of a healthy mind. But the situation is so strange that I am compelled to scan these documents from the mysterious envelope for your perusal. I’m not sure I trust my judgement on this. I don’t have the time to present this material in a more pleasing format (typing, formatting, etc.)

So now I find myself inextricably connected to a New Age unibomber who thinks he’s a superhero with a mission. That’s just great.

Now it gets even stranger. As I’m scanning the docs I’m also starting a new entry in the blog when kaflooie, the whole wordpress blogging community is reduced to a mostly white screen with a  tiny message at the top. This happens to a site that has been error/meltdown-free in the better part of a year for me. Always 100% dependable, intuitive, innovative and peachy keen by me, suddenly it malfunks, just when I try to upload this weird sickos notes…Naw, I’m starting to sound like The “Writer”. Next thing you know I’ll be babbling some Illuminati conspiracy theory. This can all be explained with a little elementary physics, I’m sure.

 I’ll try to upload this material one more time tonight, then I intend to move on, devote more time to Those Amazing Humans, family birthdays, and Giants baseball.

The "Writer", Doc. #2

 

Click documents to enlarge.
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Still nothing irregular at the Grove entrance, but The "Writer" knows otherwise.

The “Writer decided to try his hand at reasoning. A large congregation of black helicopters , though a bit off-putting , does not in and of itself indicate R.B.S.* on the radar. It could be a legitimate military presence as added security for a very special group of Bohemians. But those strange pod-shaped attachments, what could they contain? And the array of silver tubes? Way too ominous. Especially with the huge crowd of Americans sure to show up for the big BoHo Show less than a week away, and the hidden heliport less than a mile from the Monte Rio Amphitheater. This will not do.

The end result of the thought processes described above was that The “Writer” sat himself down in front of the TV (where the Giants were clinging to a 2 to 1 lead in the bottom of the 5th @ Arizona) calmly took out a fresh sheet of shiny magic paper, picked up his Pilot Precise V7 Rolling Ball Pen, and proceeded to write:

From the “Santa Rosa Press Democrat”, 7/24/2010

“Well, I know those helicopters weren’t chocolate when they woke me out of a sound sleep at 2AM, with their whop-whop-whoppin’. Stealth, my ass.” said Railroad Avenue resident , Don Godair.

If those sound like the comments of a rational man you should have no problem believing the rumors that have been spreading like LSD-laced peanut butter throughout the small resort town of Monte Rio. Some of the locals take seasonal employment at the grove and they are hearing and repeating some pretty strange stuff.

Where there’s strange stuff you often find black helicopter sightings and these stories are no exception. First came the calls from residents of homes in the vicinity of The Bohemian Grove, most complaining of the sound, some reporting visual sightings. Then the report of a maintenance worker who had stumbled onto a hidden heliport on his rounds was circulated around local watering holes. Supposedly he was alarmed by the number of black helicopters he saw there and was particularly nervous about the strange pod-shaped tanks attached to the choppers. When he returned to see if they were still there later in the evening he found the heliport lit up by several powerful spotlights. He described a scene of chaos: black clad military types, cursing and moving around what appeared to be giant dark chocolate versions of the black helicopters he had seen earlier. Stranger yet is his claim to have seen two rugged looking operatives break off a tail section of one of the choppers and jump back as a cascade of creamy white filling gushed from the cracked copter to glisten in the bright glare of the spotlight. Knowing that no one would be likely to believe so strange a tale, he returned at dawn the next day to see if he could retrieve some kind of evidence of the last evenings hi-jinx. Several of his bar mates claim to have seen the chunk of chocolate that he brought out of his weathered backpack. One said it was as large as a human head and still coated on one side with a creamy residue.

When asked to comment on the persistent rumors of dark chocolate helicopters Grove spokesperson, Rock Hardplace, retorted, “Please!”, as his limo window hissed shut and he roared away, leaving this reporter in the dust and this tiny community clouded in mystery.

And that is how The “Writer” dispatched a threatening brood of Black Death Angels with a single phony news story. (Eat your heart out Jon Stewart.)

But there ‘s still another few days before the BoHo Show. Plenty of time to thwart a couple more nefarious plots. The “Writer” smiled, appreciating the challenge and mentally dedicating himself to the safety of his beloved but weird little community. He also smiled, appreciating the explosion of offense that had brought the Giants from behind to a 6 to 4 lead in the bottom of the 7th.

This frozen moment of excellence was utterly shattered by frantic Gojira barking, thumps and rattles, meowling of a cat, sparking noises, bright flashes and an acrid smell, all going on just outside the door to the mobile mansion.

In the light of the full moon The “Writer” could make out The Cat With No Name astride a dark writhing rodent with flashing red eyes, sparks spraying from its broken neck. Its tail was lashing about so fast it was almost invisible. The Illuminati had sent another of their unholy electronic minions to monitor his every move.

The elation he’d felt only moments before was history as he used his Jack Daniels Worlds Fair Memorial Walking Stick to finish off TCWNN’s handiwork. It took four satisfying blows to extinguish the hellish light from the digital demon’s eyes.

*RBS- Really Bad S**t

The "Writer" displays the business end of his lethal Jack Daniels Worlds Fair Memorial Walking Stick.

 

Many are the distractions of the mildly retired superhero. Just when the gauntlet has been thrown and the true nature of the Illuminati challenge is revealed, the “Writer”, still desperately reeling from his week-long withdrawal from the grid/internet/blog world, sought and found the deal which would not only return him to his worried internet fans but answer his phone and TV needs as well.. That’s right, the “Writer had two “bundles” of joy delivered to his doorstep. They took the form of (a) a brand new modem and (b) a little black Pandora’s Box full of movies, sports, nature documentaries, animation and news, much of it in HD (Hypnotic Distraction).

In one week the “Writer” and his family gained HD programming, their first real cell phone (ending more than a decade hold-out) , and a new modem. From famine to feasting on generous dollops of media, more than a mouthful, for sure.

It was only after watching two complete Giants games, eight feature films, a dozen or more episodes from his favorite sci-fi and anime shows, several compelling documentaries and lots of local news, in only two day’s time, that the “Writer” began to suspect the possibility of secret Illuminati intercession with the dish company that offered his incredible “bundle”. He had to admit $11.95 per month for high speed internet, phone service, and 250 channels, plus Showtime, The Movie Channel, and Starz, was a pretty darn good deal. After canvassing his ‘hood, he found that his deal was, on average, about eighty dollars cheaper per month than those with similar “bundles”.

The penciled version of the poster he was preparing which would alter the reality of the BoHo Show (scheduled two weeks hence) languished in a stack of unfinished blog work. Wrenching himself from the 80’s world depicted in TV’s “The Mantis”(one of a short list of differently-abled superheroes that began with Billy Batson) to focus on the task of finalizing the poster lineup for his version of the BoHo Show reality, took every ounce of will power and Kuban Koffee Koncentrate© he could muster.

But I am glad to report that he has taken pen in hand again and plans to reveal his exciting alternative entertainment reality to the public before the weekend, a good week before the event.

Expect the phenomenal!

Signed enthusiastically,

Vlad The Promoter

MoFo BoHo Show

Right bird, wrong feeder.

In spite of the fact that a warm sun had opened the orange and yellow poppies earlier than usual this late Spring day, and that the Giants were up two to zero in an early East Coast game vs the Reds, The “Writer” was feeling a trifle uneasy. He tried in vain to quell the anxiety that bubbled to the surface, stronger with each incident attributable to Illuminati machinations.

There was just too much going on to mark it all up to a succession of coincidences. First, his modem suddenly stopped functioning, leaving him isolated and vulnerable, without one of his most important weapons in his creative assault against the malignant might of the Ills. Then there was the worrying disappearance of “The Humminator. And today he noticed a nasty open wound on the right hind leg of “The Cat With No Name”. If this attrition of his forces continued he might soon be obliged to submit to the will of the Ills, renounce his title, surrender his superpowers and embrace the oblivion of advancing dementia. He simply couldn’t sit by and watch his devoted team of “Animal Crackers” be decimated because of his ambitions. And there was his family to think of.

Or he could stockpile more creative ammo: text, drawings and photos, for the return of his online connection. That could occur with the UPS delivery of his new modem, as early as today. The fact remained that he had to respond to the BoHo Show Challenge or endure the terror of The Three Irish Tenors at peak volume, virtually in his front yard!