The Epilogue That Never Was - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
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Memoirs of a Visible Man:
When you are 'different' from others--inherently, irrevocably,
unarguably different--you either learn to remain, as much as possible,
invisible, or you spend much of your life in various sorts of prisons,
subject to various kinds of punishments.
There have always been a few 'safe havens' for those guilty of the
crime of being different from those around them, although, for the most
part, they have historically tended to be 'dangerous' safe havens such
as pirate or merchant ships, new world colonies, fringe religious or
political movements. Those with wits, who didn't mind joining the ranks
of the lower fringes of society, in return for ostensibly remaining
within it, could become court jesters, actors, artists, and the like.
With the advent of the Age of Electonics and the rise of Virtual
Reality, those who are able to remain within society's outer boundaries
by comically or entertainingly mirroring the parts of the human psyche
and human emotions that society requires its 'regular' members to
repress have become elite, well-paid artisians who are recognized as
valuable professionals in the Age of Form Over Substance.
For those in the lower strata of society who are unable to
successfully graduate from Society's Finishing School--usually as a
result of answering "Fuck You, Shit For Brains" to questions where a
"Yes Sir/Officer/YourHonor" answer is required--there are no longer many
physical locations available where one can escape to , which results in
the creation of an increasing number of them being labeled 'criminals'
and banished to New World Order colonies consisting of six-foot cabins
bounded by iron bars.
Those in the higher strata of society who are unable or unwilling to
live within the boundaries society requires of the masses often have the
option of joining an elite group of criminal-actors who have sufficient
firepower at their command to bully the others in society into
recognizing their authority to disobey all of society's rules and act in
their own self-interest while denying they are doing so by telling
blatant and outrageous lies. (Those with a particular talent in this
area sometimes reach the epitome of politics, in which the masses
consider them to be every bit as 'real' as the 'people' on 'As The World
Turns.' They are then free to do everything that Soap Opera actors do,
with equal impunity from facing the real-life consequences that come
from manslaughter, rape, robbery, marriage and drug-addiction--although
they are still subject to the laws of physics when playing
ski-football.)
In the Glory Days of Virtual Reality, before the ElectroMagnetic
Curtain began descending around those lured away from InterNet Free
Terra and into the Sticky World Wide Web of the InfoMercial Highway
Robbers, there were a few true Rennaisance Criminal Genius Elite who
recognized that they could settle down from a life on the run--in small
prairie towns such as Bienfait, Saskatchewan--and still live wild and
free, riding the Virtual Outlaw Trail through the Alt2600 BadLands,
robbing DataBanks, engaging in drunken brawls in the CypherPunks
CryptoSaloon, partying with Bound and Gagged Asian DanceHall UnderAge
Girls being pimped by Adult Check, and having the rugged good looks of
Robert Redford, in an ASCII Art kind of way.
Once the Information Railway began being replaced by the Information
Highway as a comfortable, convenient way for the masses to journey into
what were formerly remote Electronic Wilderness Areas, the outlaws and
free-stinkers who had formerly been able to remain, for the most part,
invisible to the programmed masses, yearning to keep other minds from
being free, found themselves subject to the scrutiny of those who
recognized that free-range cattle and penned sheep could not peacefully
coexist in a merchant society where corporate mergers to create Company
Towns, with Company Stores, would be jeopardized by small-time rustlers
and fence-cutters.
Thus there arose a need for ElectroMagnetic Law and Order, supported
by the muddled assholes, struggling to be Freeh.
The Lost Train of Thought (Part I):
...uuuhhhhh...
The Runaway Train of Thought Is Melted Down To Build The WhatIf Server:
WhatIf: A ClueLess Canuck, turned into a MindBot by the Institute of
Applied Metaphysics in preparation for the Moscow Olympics, was culled
from a Russian language class full of Canadian Mounties at the
University of Regina by a Dark Continent TigerTeam agent and trained in
Psychic Warfare?
WhatIf: A DoubleShinned Agent trained at the Psycho War Fair travelled
to Africa with a Nuclear Physicist who was the youngest President at
Oberlin College, and met with his TigerTeam controllers in a bar full of
sailors from the U.S.S. Enterprise in the heart of Mombassa, as other
members of his travelling group were engaged in a 'tour' of a US Navy
ship?
WhatIf: A ClassLess Canuck highly trained in the Lack of Social Skills
travelled to East Germany and Poland shortly after the Fall of the Wall,
y'all, crossing the Polish border illegally to meet with members of the
Little Nicky Telsa Fan Club at the same time that the ShakeSpearAtIan
NukeKingLear PharmAssist (who got glowing reviews for the Polish
translation of his work) was in Moscow, paying pipers and pimps to play
the tunes called by his Muppet Pastors for the NuclearPowered Dancing
Bears?
Qu'est Que C'est: A Psychic Killer To Be Named Later was apprehended
fleeing Poland, but walked away a free MindBot before the InTerraGators
arrived, after paying a seventy Mark Antony Fine to a 'confused' Polish
border guard, and was then intercepted upon his arrival back in the
United States by US Customs agents instructed to hold him for
interrogation regarding his US passport with a Polish exit stamp, but no
Polish visa or entrance stamp, and then slipped away after the
'confused' agents merely confiscated his Black Forest Ham and released
him, whereupon he quickly slipped off to a different airport to take a
small plane to Nantucket to meet a female agent of the Holy Roman
Empire instructed to arrange for his transfer to a private yacht bound
for a private compound of Nazi BusinessWar Criminals on a nearby island
famous for their Celebrity Midnight Marathon Swim and Drunken Driving
and Diving Festival?
WhatIf: A Dangerously Drunken Psychotic PissAnt Drug-Addicted Dumb-Ass
Shit-Disturber To Be Maimed Later concocted some wild, unbelievable
story to fuck with the mimes of the MimeFuckers, but all the details of
his mad ramblings were already a verifiably true part of the SecretGuys'
SecretGuyFiles, and even a cursory investigation would reveal even more
conspiratorial concepts concerning his connection to a Forth Freudian
Sufi Sect dedicated to Anti-NukeUnclear Publishing of Libertarian
Mathematical GreenPeace OverGround GoreVillain Manuals designed to apply
Laws of Form to a ChaosKult attack on the Fourth JavaCup Active-X-Files
Implementation of A Disturbed CraptoLogical LISP MamboErs' Secret Agenda
to Subvert Authority by making the Ship of Goverment list so far to the
left that the Titanic balls of the Hermerphodite Aunt E. Christ are cut
off as she slides over the rail, into the sea, emerging from the depths
as Anne R. Christ who is Lucky enough to surface in time to hitch a ride
on the Millenium Bug just before the Reptilian Nazi GermanAmericans
circle the VolksWagons in a Two-Byte Double Donut formation to prepare
for the attack of Naieve Americans with Wounded Knees whose Peyote
Dreams predict that an Elvis whose Aim Is True will use Broken Arrows to
cut off the Forked Tongues of the Serpentine Servants of Satan living in
secret underground bunkers beneath both the AdamAntArctic and Mule Shoe,
Texas, in the Land of the Freeh?
WhatIf: Incompetent Secret Agents To Be Framed Later gave up on
purporting to properly protect National Security <flags digitally wave>
<Matt's trumpets Blaze FORTH> in order to fail in their efforts to find
a single innocent child to save from drugs dealers at the PROM, and, in
their frustration at not being able to find the <ANY> Key which will
connect them to the ClueServer, hit the <DELETE> key instead, erasing
the cleverly crafted composition of the Author, admitting an astounding
array of in-depth illegal involvement in countless consciously
conspiratorial causes aimed at the overthrow of OverLords oppressing
opponents of Fucking FreehDumb Privacy Pirates purloining the Leftist
Constitutional Rights of silly, sufficiently subdued SheepIzens
subverting their own Freedom, Liberty and Privacy, as well as their
right to Free Rum, the USS Liberty and Piracy?
WhatIf: You slapped yourself on the forehead, mystified as to how the
Author managed to once again sucker you into reading the mindless trash
that is placed inside his skull by psychic garbage-pickers who step on
his foot, lifting his toupee, and toss in the leftover thoughts that
were pruned from the minds of the vegetables planted in the Home For The
Criminally Insane too early in the year to avoid being cold-cocked by
the FrostBack of Notre Dame, initiated in Wilcox, Saskatchewan, into a
Circle of Eunuchs Chapter of Eternity Cult known as the Hockey Hounds
of Hell On Ice?
WhatIf: Jesus Saves, but Gretsky puts in the rebounds?
(c) 1999.9, ADualist Huxter (Part IV of 'The Whores Of Deception')
