Even More Squidgate


And, yes, at the border in upstate New York, after turning around on the border, the border guards did, apparently, find a mysterious CD of Spoon songs with one by T-Spoon in my rental car. They did not indicate where they found it.

I later misplaced it. Don’t know if I left it in Brooklyn, but it wasn’t there when I came back to visit for a few days for unemployment court. I thought it was in my storage unit in Minneapolis. Wasn’t there when I looked for it.

I did also check the metadata of the MP3s on my laptop. There were some strange numbers. Tried one of them as a phone number.

Keeping in mind again the drugging both interfering with logic and emotions, the near constant psychological harassment, and the use of voice-to-skull to direct my thoughts where they wanted them:

“I watched you start that drive, alone.”

“Eight hundred miles, that’s a drive.”

“I turn my camera on.”

“He’s got something up there, that nobody knows”

“I wanna have sex on the beach”

And of course “The Underdog”.

And the list goes on. It’s not unlike seeing a face in the clouds under “normal” circumstances, but I assume it’s becoming clearer how the cards were stacked to push a particular outcome or set of them. An emotionally bankrupt human being capable of being directed by whichever group of jerks he decides to join with. Someone impervious to honeytraps (spy term for operations and operatives utilizing sex as a weapon or fulcrum against the target). Suicide. Terrorist. Jared Lee Loughner type.

Only the honeytrap thing actually worked though. “Texas”, as I referred to him, was extremely cute and quite the bumper and grinder in a dirty dancing kind of way that probably only oppressed conservatives are capable of, but he didn’t stand a chance against someone who is perfect and doesn’t even really exist. If you don’t exist, you can’t do anything to fall off of the pedestal you’ve been placed on.

Like I said recently, his similarity to someone else from the past should have been a clue that it was too good to be true. I was suckered.

One of the Native American legends about coyotes stems from their intelligence. They can sniff out traps better than most other mammals, can at times eat the bait and defecate on the trap, ruining the chances of it being used on whatever species the tribe was actually targeting. On those rare occasions that they actually found a coyote in a trap, the legend I read said that it was only because that coyote wanted to fall into it.

While I don’t really bare much resemblance to real world coyotes (they eat pretty much anything, including pets and humans), nor am I anything like a trickster (capable of subterfuge when i must) but not someone who sets out to teach others lessons that sometimes are cruel, nor am I obviously not in control of my appetites), but in the category of continuing to learn, I suppose so.

Speaking of weirdness and coyotes:

“Wile E. Coyote fell off of the cliff decades ago.”

“What are you, twelve?” (see again item 12 of the draft memo from 1955 which was released to the public in 1977, when I was twelve).

You sure you don’t believe in mind control?


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