I really don’t wanna think about the animals in Ohio, so I won’t. I also don’t want to think about what sort of craven individuals would kidnap the disabled and chain them to a boiler, as happened in Philadelphia (no wonder a dog-killer like Michael Vick doesn’t bother them in the City of Brotherly Love). Though I suspect there will no be a rash of these things being discovered over the coming weeks – unless some blonde chick comes up missing in Aruba, which will push all other stories out of the media consciousness. Plus, I’m trying not to think about why East Aurora, NY is some 100 miles west of Aurora, NY. Mostly, I just want to think about getting through today, because I have tomorrow off.
I thought I had my annual health assessment today (which consists of having your blood pressure taken, telling them to take their flu shot and shove it, and telling them you have a doctor that you go to so that they won’t lecture you on their mainstream Western Medicine bullshit), but it turns out that’s actually next week. So today, I just have a stupid meeting instead (not as stupid as yesterday’s biweekly stupid meeting, though).
God, how these people love their meetings. To me – at best – meetings are like masturbation without the payoff. At their worst, meetings are what I imagine being temporarily buried alive must be like. Restricted movement, gradually diminishing oxygen, and fighting the rising panic while trying to not to think about the likelihood that you’re going to suffocate and die there.
I hate meetings, and I hate talking on the telephone. I mean, phones are like, what, 18th Century technology? Don’t call me – e-mail me. And for chrissakes, if you’re gonna call me, leave voicemail beyond, “call me back.” There’s a reason I didn’t answer the phone in the first place. Tell me what you want so I can find out the answer before I call you back. Unless you just want to hear me say, “uh, I dunno. I’ll have to look into it,” because that’s probably about all you’re gonna get.
Finally, somebody is brave enough to speak (or at least write) the truth: Hitler died in 1962 in Argentina.
Grey Wolf: The Escape of Adolf Hitler claims the Fuhrer and his mistress Eva Braun were secretly flown out of Germany in April 1945 and taken to fascist-controlled Argentina.
It is alleged Hitler lived in the country for 17 years until his death in 1962.
The book also accuses US intelligence of being complicit in the scam in return for access to Nazi war technology.
“Stalin, Eisenhower and Hoover of the FBI…
As opposed to Hoover of the Vacuum Cleaner Institute?
…all knew there was no proof of him dying in the bunker,” Williams told Sky News.
I know what you’re wondering. “What about his dog? Did they get Blondi out, too?”
I think I smell another book opportunity.
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I completely understand how horrible meetings at work are. That’s why sitting as far back as possible and doing the crossword is enough of an act of sedition to at least stifle a scream as long as said crossword solving lasts. But, I am now facing another plane trip from LA to NY. No crossword can mask the feeling of claustrophobia that comes of the cattle car experience that plane ride engenders. I need to get rich enough to travel first class though that is very unlikely to happen.