One Man's Flight to Sanity.

 

From the way I was seen walking to my car the other night, not a few folks started having second thoughts about getting the wrong idea. Even on the off chance that I was mistaken as to the basic premise, that was still no excuse for my family to calculate an imaginary wind storm while I rested peacefully in my room after a Bible funding collapse. The scary thing was, I'd known each of them for at least a minute or two and was under no illusion that they could be coerced to initiate a hare-brained scheme just for the honor of saying that 'it just wasn't so'. I stewed in my gruel and then got up, lit a cup of joe and got under the covers for a long haul. In this case I caught a ride with a semi out of Cleveland for a West Coast jog. On the third leg of what turned out to be a monumental boner, I was handed a flashlight and a magnetic tarpine and asked to rouse some of the plunderers from my home state. Even so, a lot of the reports I filed rested on the good-faith efforts of the easily repressed. I could pull them out by the hands or have them delivered expo-facto into a badly scripted third-party humility-trap. At which time most of the particles would be hard to spot, if that. Don't say you weren't warned. That's why it always becomes warmer at night, even though it rarely is. When?

If there seems to be a gaping hole in this account, please remember, those were your words, not mine. More often than not, we try to take our time when introducing new Escort Cadets into the vacancy pool at one of the motor lodges under the Security Blanket. If any of them start to project immature fantasy material into our Master Class, we can always contract the services of a power lifter and see them diminish one by one until all that's left are a few piddling remarks in the wake of an inoffensive presentation. It's not an exaggeration to say that I'd happily go to bat to have her picture introduced into the food supply of a major motion picture. The kind where you can almost hear someone say something, but not quite. It's all about the explosions. But on set we run a very tight ship. If anyone is having a 'bad day', we sit together and try to talk it out. No one ever likes to mention it, but there's often quite a bit of intentionality involved. Especially when it comes to diverting funds into a patterned relapse flagship. There you can often find one or two folks who make some very valid points. And, you know what? They DO have a point. People just want to see their kids on a TV show. Is that so wrong? Why do you say that?

When you start to look for a way to impress yourself with your cleverness, you could do a lot worse than to locate a mechanical spaniel in one of the caves under the Dorset Green. One way or the other, I believe we will live to see the day when people the world over are removed from a hazardous situation without their families or friends knowing any better. Once they see the trouble they've caused, no one will be able to set them up on a new career path. From this moment forward, let a call go out and then call it a night for all I care. If I were to cater a private affair, would anyone object if I left a few fabric samples behind so you could take a look? It should only be a few moments before we'll be back on our feet. Still, you might not want to be in the room when I get back from an orderly process. Even with all the regularized distortions, some folks still try to have it both ways. After I feed them, they usually join separate lines. But not before they are asked to abandon a very discreet panel. This was set up over a year ago. My Uncle had a part in it. It's dogged him for at least three years. And yet he still can't seem to find a way out. They have a weird hold over his breathing process. And also his hypnotic reveries. It's often stated that this gets easier with age. I find just the reverse to be true. Which is why you should stop hitting me.

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