The Epilogue That Never Was - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!! ________________________________________________________ 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')