Butterfly Dreams (17)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

Identity Crises
Both noting and ignoring the visible shock on our faces, Professor Jordan shuffled past us. He stopped before a bookcase and removed a book from the uppermost shelf. The shelving unit and a section of the wall swung open to reveal the entrance to another room. After motioning for us to follow he disappeared through the portal.

As with the other hidden passages the entrance to the room closed behind us. At first glance, save a table and several chairs, the paneled room appeared spartan and without purpose.

At the far end of the room the professor busied himself with two rows of switches on a recessed panel. Next to me a small section paneling slid open to reveal a coffee station, the aroma from the fresh-brewed liquid assaulted our senses. "Help yourself," he chuckled without moving away from the panel.

"Professor," I said with raised voice, "This is not a social visit ..."

"Tut-tut," he countered cutting my protest short as he continued flipping each switch one after the other.

"Michael," Michelle noted shrugging her shoulders, "something tells me we're going to need that coffee."

We gasped in union as the entirety of the paneled wall came to life with sliding doors and dropping counter tops. There was a cacophony of whirring servos and swishing hydraulics as the wall gave way to reveal a room-length bank of sophisticated state-of-the-art electronic equipment. Behind us the opposite wall underwent the same transformation.

"I must say this quite an impressive collection of equipment, Professor. I would think that the cost for all of this would exceed the meager salary of a college professor," I opined aloud.

He nodded and moved over to the coffee station and poured himself a cup, "Bishop King, your benefactor ... and mine, spared no expense when he had this insuperable place constructed. He feared that the government and the military would eventually want complete control of our research."

"He was right, of course," Michelle said sipping from the cup she'd filled with the steaming coffee.

He sat his cup upon the table and took a seat. He removed his eyeglasses which had become fogged from the steam rising from his coffee. He rubbed the lenses on his shirt sleeve and winked, "Ah, yes. Imagine their chagrin, however, when they learned they did not have exclusive control."

"Knock on wood!" I said rapping my knuckles on the table. "Why didn't they just eliminate everyone involved with the research?"

He returned the glasses to his face and positioned them on the bridge of his nose until he was peering above the frames. "They did eliminate some, the one's they considered the greatest threat to them. There was that quadriplegic veteran who had complete access to King's computer network ..."

"Jimmy," I muttered, "my neighbor."

Jordan nodded, "Yes. Then there was a certain nosy reporter and his girlfriend. They weren't involved directly with the research, but they knew too much."

Michelle placed her hand on mine, "Ben and Susan. Then ... they don't know about the transfer?"

He shook his head, "As far as I've been able to ascertain ... no."

I leaned forward and stared at him for a moment, "Why the sudden interest in you? I mean, you were here as head of the Science Department when we ... er ... Michael and Michelle were conducting their research."

He smiled and arched his eyebrows, "Officially, their research was done without my involvement. It was Bishop's idea, and as it's turned out, a brilliant idea. For the record, I was very much a part of the research. For you see, it was I who originally discovered and developed the project a long time ago."

Confused I grimaced, "But ... King told us he developed the research in Germany during World War II ..."

He extended his arm and pulled his shirt sleeve above his elbow. "I was there." He twisted his arm to reveal a series of faded numbers on his arm.

I let out a breath of air, "You were in a Nazi concentration camp?"

"Yes, Auswitch, " he replied pointing to his arm, "This is my souvenir, my reminder of those terrible times." As if sickened by the visible tattoo he rolled his sleeve back down to his wrist. "While Bishop was able to use my discovery to escape the Nazis, I was not. With the news of the Allied landing on the beachheads of France they began to roundup the remaining Jewish scientists so that we would not fall into the hands of the enemy. We were loaded onto those awful cattle cars and ... well, you know about those death camps."

"No disrespect for your ordeal, Professor Jordan," I said, "but we need to discuss the present."

He appeared crestfallen but nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right of course." He drained the remaining liquid in his cup and declared, "First and foremost, there is the matter of your identity crises."

Michelle slammed her fist on the table spilling her cup of coffee in the process. "That holographic recording ... it said we were back in our original bodies! I'm not Michelle Gray ... I'm Susan Parsons!" She pointed at me, "He's Ben Bering ... not Michael Black! Identity crises? You're goddamn right we have identity crises. These are not our bodies!"

He nodded almost apologetically, "I'll try to explain, to fill in those memories that have been erased from your minds. I do understand what you're going through. I'm dealing with an identity crisis of my own."

Puzzled by his last remark I stammered, "What's that? Are you saying you aren't ... you?"

Before he could answer a chirping sound was emanating from Michelle's pocket. She viewed the screen of her cell phone and announced, "It's Brock O'Day." Activating the phone and placing it on speaker she answered, "Yes, Sergeant."

"Michelle, is Michael with you?" he queried.

"I'm right here, Brock," I said aloud. "What's up?"

"That bank robbery I was called on ... it was a man and a woman. I have them in custody."

"Okay," I said, "But why are calling us?"

"It's like this, they will not make a statement unless the both of you are here," he replied. "They won't talk to anyone but the two of you."

Michelle piped in, "I don't understand. Why us?"

"Trust me, you're going to want to talk to these two. I have in front of me none other than Ben Bering and Susan Parsons!"

( To be continued with ...

Talking To Ourselves )
№ 1977

The Hits Keep on a-Comin'

Thanks For Stopping By
On 5/19/2010, at 10:50 pm ...

My site counter recorded hit

#
400,000
Somewhere around the end of June or the first of July, I will be publishing my 2,000th post here at It Occurred To Me.

I'd like to thank all the visitors who have dropped by over the five+ plus years I've been blogging. Whether regular readers or accidental tourists, I hope in some small measure I've made it worthwhile for all of those visits.

Some of my postings have been comprised of jokes and cartoons culled from all over the web.

Some of my postings have been satire and parodies on many subjects, even those that to some might be considered as controversial or taboo, such as religion and politics.

My satire knows no boundaries - I guess you could say that I'm am equal opportunity satirist. Christian, Catholic, Jewish, Islamic, etc., are all fair game. Democrats or Republicans, they too are all fair game. As stated below my blog title banner:

My feelings, beliefs, and/or ideas about just about anything. These may not agree with you, and that is okay. Nothing I say or imply is meant to offend. Allow me to hammer home my points. Satire is my cause and humor is my sword and pen.

Speaking of "borrowed" cartoons:

I'll Bet it Never Occurred to Biblical Scholars ...

But ... It Occurred To Me ...

That Maybe, Just Maybe,

Adam and the Serpent Were in Cahoots!
№ 1976

Dignity?

Stepping off Air Force One with Dignity

Sometimes a picture says a thousand words.

Some people (a lot of people) didn't like our former First Lady, Laura Bush, but at least when seen in public she always appeared well dressed - dignified.

Our current First Lady, Michelle Obama?

She is seen here disembarking Air Force One looking as if she is on her way to back yard barbecue. (And she probably wasn't invited.)

Don’t this make you proud? I especially like the handful of Kleenex in her right hand that soon someone will have to shake.

How to step off Air Force One with dignity!!!

I think this one speaks for itself!!!!!!

Enough said.

Kinda makes ya proud, dont it?

Yep, we got change all right. Real Class Act.

(At least she's now proud to be an American. Too bad Americans cannot be proud of her.)

...And then there's hubby ...
№ 1975

Obamacare: An Obamanation

Economic Malpractice
True to his word, President Barack Obama promised Americans "health care reform." The only problem is, he never told them what form it would take, or rather, how many forms it will require.

Replete with 2,562*¹ pages, Obamacare will contribute as much to the defoliation of our planet as his hot air will to global warming. Aspens won't be the only trees quaking in our forests.

I wasn't able able to find just how many copies of the Health Care Plan were distributed to the Senate, Congress, or the Press and made available to anyone willing to put down their copy of Tolstoy's War and Peace*² , but that number pales in light of the paper that will be required for filing and accounting purposes.

The following question is often asked. Below that are the accepted calculations used by the paper industry.

How Much Paper Can Be Made From a Tree?

1 ton of uncoated virgin (non-recycled) printing and office paper uses 24 trees

1 ton of 100% virgin (non-recycled) newsprint uses 12 trees

A "pallet" of copier paper (20-lb. sheet weight, or 20#) contains 40 cartons and weighs 1 ton. Therefore,

1 carton (10 reams) of 100% virgin copier paper uses .6 trees

1 tree makes 16.67 reams of copy paper or 8,333.3 sheets

1 ream (500 sheets) uses 6% of a tree (and those add up quickly!)

1 ton of coated, higher-end virgin magazine paper (used for magazines like National Geographic and many others) uses a little more than 15 trees (15.36)

1 ton of coated, lower-end virgin magazine paper (used for newsmagazines and most catalogs) uses nearly 8 trees (7.68)

Recycled Paper Saves How Many Trees?

(1) Multiply the number of trees needed to make a ton of the kind of paper you're talking about (groundwood or freesheet), then

(2) multiply by the percent recycled content in the paper.

For example,

1 ton (40 cartons) of 30% postconsumer content copier paper saves 7.2 trees

1 ton of 50% postconsumer content copier paper saves 12 trees.

*¹ (It took one tree to make three full sets of the plan.)
*² (War and Peace is "only" 1500 pages long.)

Form 1099
It will be the accounting process that requires more and more paper work. Americans will be forced to spend countless, aggrivating hours completing, filing and transmitting endless reams of federal paperwork. All companies, from the large corporations to small neighborhood businesses, will be mandated to file an IRS Form 1099 for every piece of business on which they spend at least $600.

Currently Form 1099 applies only to independent contractors. BY 2012, this mandate will be extended to all sellers of goods and services - not just the self-employed, but all businesses - large and small.

You are probably wondering, 'What does all of this Form 1099 stuff and the IRS got to do with health care?' INDEED!

Alas, it is bureaucratic business in Washington as usual. It is the pitfall of a two-party system. Before Obama could force his health care reform on the American people, he had to satisfy the bottom-feeding Senators and members of Congress (Republicans and Democrats alike) and allow them to attach all sorts of riders before they would vote in approval.

In addition to food stuff, if a restaurant has to buy kitchen equipment, that establishment will have to fill out a Form 1099 for each vendor when the $600 threshold is reached. If business operations require travel, airline tickets and hotel rooms are subject to the same dollar amount.

Over the course of 10 years, $17 billion will be extracted from America's already anemic small businesses. Many of those small businesses will probably close as vendors start to deal with larger companies to cut down on the onerous paperwork.

Health Care
Perhaps on the last 62 pages of Obamacare there is actually the appearance of the words 'health care.'

Employers will have to evaluate their health care plans' affordability by calculating each employee's household income, not just the individual worker's wages. No doubt the onus will be on every employee to provide income declarations for their entire household.

This will force smaller business to drop health care plans altogether. (This is already happening.) This will force individuals to shop around for 'affordable' health insurance. Failure to do so, will result in penalties which will be assessed on additional Federal Income Tax forms.

Does this reek of an "Orwellian Big Brother?" Damn straight it does!

Did you know that by 2014, even our men and women in the active armed forces will be required to purchase their own health care? That's right, even those brave men and women who put their lives on the line for their country, will not receive health care from our government!

Health care reform? It's more like health care deformity!

What has Dr. Obama got to say on the matter?

"Take this and don't call me in the morning!"

№ 1974

Butterfly Dreams (16)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

Persephone
When we turned the corner around the server we stopped dead in our tracks. Bathed in the light from a recessed fixture in the ceiling stood ... Bishop King.

A smile formed on his lips as he spoke, "Greetings, Ben and Susan."

"It can't be," Michelle muttered, "You're dead."

"I have a lot to tell you," King said ignoring her remark. "There are conspirators at work, ..."

"Something's not right here," I said approaching him.

"... conspirators whose goal is absolute power, ..."

He seemed to be in an unblinking trance and continued to speak even as I was reaching out to touch him.

"... absolute control of the country and all of its citizens."

"What the..?" I gasped as my hand passed through his body. His form flickered and began to fade.

"A hologram!" Michelle exclaimed.

I nodded, "Yes. King must have recorded it sometime ago. It must have been pre-programmed to activate when we entered this hidden lab."

I removed my hand from the beam of light and the figure reformed. The image of Bishop King was standing still but no longer spoke. Michelle stretched out her arm and allowed her fingers to dance in the light. The image came to life again.

"Welcome, I've been expected you," began the prerecorded voice. "Greetings, Ben and Susan. I have a lot to tell you. There are conspirators at work, conspirators whose goal is absolute power, absolute control of the country and all of its citizens."

Michelle again reached into the beam, wiggled her fingers and again the image of King froze. She glanced at me, shrugged and explained, "I don't know how I know, but that pauses the recording. If I repeat the action, it will resume."

She was about to reach out but I grabbed her arm. "Hold on a moment. He referred to us as Ben and Susan. Don't you find that as being odd?"

She stared at me quizzically, "No. Michael, he was present when our minds were transferred from our former bodies into the bodies of Michael and Michelle. He would've known that we were actually Ben and Susan."

I pointed at the holographic image and said, "Take a closer look at that face. When the transfer took place he was an old frail man. Don't forget, he died shortly after Ben and Susan's bodies were buried."

"My God!" she remarked. "This face is one of a much younger Bishop King, younger by at least ten years, than the man we knew."

I grimaced and said, "Unless he happened to have had an older recorded image of himself, which I seriously doubt, it can only mean that this hologram and the recorded voice were made long before the events of a year ago."

"But," she countered with skepticism, "that doesn't explain how he would know that Ben and Susan would be standing here in this lab. How could he possibly know that you and I would see the hologram and hear the recording?"

I tilted my head in the direction of the idle image, "Perhaps, he ... it will tell us."

Placing her hand in the light and moving her fingers the projected image once again came to life.

"That you are seeing and hearing this can only mean that those conspirators have begun to implement their takeover. They have realized the power of my research and have perfected the technology. My life's work has given them unfathomable power."

As if he was aware of our presence, King's gossamer finger pointed at us. He shook his head and resumed his programmed narrative, "I foresaw the government's and military's self-serving interest in my research. I knew that in time they would want total control. I knew I could not allow that to happen. Therefore I developed Persephone."

Dangling the digits of her hand into the light, Michelle waited until King's image grew still and remarked, "Persephone?"

I rubbed my chin and mused, "If I remember my Greek mythology, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter and Zeus. She was abducted by Hades and taken against her will beneath the earth where she eventually became the Queen of the Underworld. I believe she was also associated with the changing of the seasons."

Michelle patted my back and said, "I'm impressed. Hmmm ... Queen of the Underworld, eh?" She was thoughtful for a moment and extended her arm, "Let's see what else he has to say."

"Ben and Susan, you were the unwitting subjects I used to put Persephone into play. In order to do so I had to transfer your minds into new bodies, erase your memories, and implant new memories. I then buried post hypnotic commands deep into the recesses of your minds. Those commands could not surface unless you have been returned to your original bodies. It is those those commands that have allowed you to find this secret laboratory."

Michelle's frantic fingers froze and silenced the image again. Her face was no less pale than my own. She staggered on her feet and grabbed my arm to steady herself. I too felt a sense of vertigo and leaned against one of the servers for support.

"Wh-what? Original bodies? This is madness!" she shrieked.

With a violent fit of rage I yelped, "No! It can't be true!"

There was a shuffling of feet somewhere behind us. It was a familiar voice that spoke, "Sometimes the truth is more difficult to swallow than the lies."

Professor Jordan stepped out the shadows and cast a furtive glance at the hologram. He moved past us and placed his hand into the beam of light which embraced the image. The light was doused and the image vanished. He then turned and faced us.

"You ... you knew about ... this?" I stammered.

He grinned, but it was a menacing grin. "Of course. I recorded it."

( To be continued with ...

Identity Crises )
№ 1973

E-Mail Pickins'

Lottery Winner
Can you believe it? This guy wins $181 million in the lottery last Wednesday, and then finds the love of his life just 2 days later.

☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺
Where does the time go?
Remember yesterday,

Dream about tomorrow,

But you better live for today!

How quickly the years pass!
☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺
The Preacher's Son
An old country preacher had a teenage son, and it was getting time the boy should give some thought to choosing a profession. Like many young Men his age, the boy didn't really know what he wanted to do, and he didn't seem too concerned about it.

One day, while the boy was away at school, his father decided to try an experiment. He went into the boy's room and placed on his study table four objects.

1. A Bible..

2. A silver dollar..

3. A bottle of whisky...

4. And a Playboy magazine


"'I'll just hide behind the door," the old preacher said to himself. "When he comes home from school today, I'll see which object he picks up.

If it's the Bible, he's going to be a preacher like me, and what a blessing that would be!

If he picks up the dollar, he's going to be a business man, and that would be okay, too.

But if he picks up the bottle, he's going to be a no-good drunken bum, and Lord, what a shame that would be.

And worst of all if he picks up that magazine he's going to be askirt-chasing womanizer."

The old man waited anxiously, and soon heard his son's foot-steps as he entered the house whistling and headed for his room.

The boy tossed his books on the bed, and as he turned to leave the room he spotted the objects on the table.

With curiosity in his eye, he walked over to inspect them. Finally, he picked up the Bible and placed it under his arm. He picked up the silver dollar and dropped into his pocket. He uncorked the bottle and took a big drink, while he admired this month's centerfold.

"Lord have mercy," the old preacher disgustedly whispered.

"He's gonna run for Congress."

(Thanks, Cathy.)

№ 1972

Little Ol' Racist Me

I was recently cited (in another forum) as being racist because of a posting that was less than favorable about our Commander-in-Chief, President Barack Obama. In particular in the comments section, was references to him as a babbling buffoon and that his presidency for the most part has been rife with failures to live up to his campaign promises.

For your edification, here is that "racist" post:

Obama Bingo
1. Before Barrack Obama's next televised speech, print your "Bullshit Bingo"
2. Check off the appropriate block when you hear one of those words/phrases.
3. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, stand
up and shout "BULLSHIT!"

[Or Shout out “PELOSI” in mixed company
(means the same thing)] - USE GAME BOARD BELOW



Maybe I'm clueless, but I fail to see that the above in any way could be considered or viewed as being racist.

This person is obviously a FAN of our President. I have no problem with that. This is a democracy and everyone is free to support our elected officials. That freedom also allows us to be critical of the same officials.

I am not FOR or AGAINST him, after all he is the President. As for the racist charge, where in the above is there any reference to race?

Ah, I get it now. Because our President is black, I'm displaying racism because I make fun of him. Because if I post something funny, satirical or author a parody about him I'm a racist!

If the "Bingo" piece is racist, wait until you get a load of the following which I received in an e-mail from my brother-in-law. (Thanks, Donald.)

THREE NEWEST VESSELS THAT WILL PROTECT US FROM HARM'S WAY .....

Three New Navy Ships

USS REAGAN
Seeing it next to the Arizona Memorial really puts its size into perspective.... ENORMOUS!


When the Bridge pipes 'Man the Rail,' there is a lot of rail to man on this monster: shoulder to shoulder, around 4.5 acres. Her displacement is about 100,000 tons with full complement.

Capability

Top speed exceeds 30 knots, powered by two nuclear reactors that can operate for more than 20 years without refueling

1. Expected to operate in the fleet for about 50 years

2. Carries over 80 combat aircraft

3.. Three arresting cables can stop a 28-ton aircraft going 150 miles per hour in less than 400 feet

Size

1.. Towers 20 stories above the waterline

2. 1092 feet long; nearly as long as the Empire State Building is tall

3.. Flight deck covers 4.5 acres

4.. 4 bronze propellers, each 21 feet across, weighing 66,200 pounds

5.. 2 rudders, each 29 by 22 feet and weighing 50 tons

6.. 4 high speed aircraft elevators, each over 4,000 square feet

Capacity

1. Home to about 6,000 Navy personnel

2.. Carries enough food and supplies to operate for 90 days

3.. 18,150 meals served daily

4.. Distillation plants provide 400,000 gallons of fresh water from sea water daily, enough for 2,000 homes

5.. Nearly 30,000 light fixtures and 1,325 miles of cable and wiring 1,400 telephones

6.. 14,000 pillowcases and 28,000 sheets

7.. Costs the Navy approximately $250,000 per day for pier side operation

8.. Costs the Navy approximately $25 million per day for underway operations (Sailors' salaries included).

USS BILL CLINTON

The USS William Jefferson Clinton (CVS1) set sail today from its home port of Vancouver , BC.

The ship is the first of its kind in the Navy and is a standing legacy to President Bill Clinton 'for his foresight in military budget cuts' and his conduct while holding the (formerly dignified) office of President.

The ship is constructed nearly entirely from recycled aluminum and is completely solar powered with a top speed of 5 knots.

It boasts an arsenal comprised of one (unarmed) F14 Tomcat or one (unarmed) F18 Hornet aircraft which, although they cannot be launched on the 100 foot flight deck, form a very menacing presence.

As a standing order there are no firearms allowed on board.

This crew, like the crew aboard the USS Jimmy Carter, is specially trained to avoid conflicts and appease any and all enemies of the United States at all costs.

An onboard Type One DNC Universal Translator can send out messages of apology in any language to anyone who may find America offensive. The number of apologies are limitless and though some may seem hollow and disingenuous, the Navy advises all apologies will sound very sincere.

In times of conflict, the USS Clinton has orders to seek refuge in Canada .

USS BARACK OBAMA

This is what the increase in taxes on small business support! These new sailors are filling all the new government jobs promised by the Democrats . This high tech vessel was christened by Rev. Wright . The USS Sharpton is currently under construction in Kenya while the USS Pelosi is being built from recycled Corona cans in Mexico ...

In Conclusion...
I guess I'll throw myself at the mercy of the Court of Public Opinion.

What say you? Is this racism? Or is it satire, protected by our Constitution under the heading of "freedom of speech"?

№ 1971

Butterfly Dreams (15)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

Jordan's Cocoon

Partially blinded by an overhead light above the gun-wielding threat I crawled through the trapdoor into a small room. To my left I could see Michelle lying face down on the floor.

"Michelle!" I shouted.

The barrel of his gun touched my neck and its bearer spoke, "She's not hurt, Mr. Black. Now please be quiet.

"The hell you say! Who are ...?"

As I turned to face my tormentor I caught sight of blurred movement. The butt of his weapon struck me in the temple. Groggy, I tried to turn my face away from a cloth being pressed against my nose and mouth. The word chloroform had barely entered my thoughts when everything went dark.


At first the voice seemed distant, disjointed. "Michael? Wake up."

Through glazed eyes Michelle's face slowly came into focus in front of me. I winced from the dull throbbing in the side of my head.

"I'm alright," I responded to her concern. I rubbed the sensitive spot near my ear and took in our surroundings. We were no longer in the same small room, but were seated on a plush sofa in what appeared to be a waiting room.

She was watching me looking at my hands and noted, "I noticed that when I came to. I thought for sure we would have been bound."

I scanned the entire room, "...And our captors?"

A door to my right swung open and a tall slender man in a black suit entered. A smile forming on his lips he said, "Captors? No, you're not prisoners."

A second man, taller and more chiseled than the first appeared in the doorway. "We're the good guys," he quipped. "I'd like to think we're on the same side."

I rubbed my temple and snarled, "Is that so? You have a hell of a way of introducing yourselves."

"I apologize for the extreme measures," said the shorter of the two, "but the three men you were obviously trying to elude were in the building, two doors down the hall."

Michelle exchanged glances with me and remarked, "So we escaped them only to fall into your clutches?"

"Look," said the other man, "We didn't know who was coming up through that trapdoor. Frankly, we were surprised it was the two of you. Then we heard your friends in the lobby outside the entrance to the labs."

His partner chimed in, "It was imperative that they didn't find you ... or us!"

In a mock gesture I raised my hand, "Just who are they?" I studied their faces as they looked at one another and added, "For that matter, who are you?"

"FBI," said the taller one. He and his partner produced badges and held them before us. "I'm Agent Landers and this is Agent Ferrara."

Michelle stood up and faced them. "If we're not prisoners, I assume then that we are free to go about our business. I see no reason for this tête-à-tête to continue."

I arose and stood by her side, "Unless of course, you're going to charge us with ... what? Unlawful entry? A felony hardly seems to be within the jurisprudence of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Agent Ferrara responded, "We have no cause to hold you, but first, hear us out."

Landers cleared his throat and with noticeable hesitation added, "We need your help."

Bemused, we settled back onto the sofa. I arched my eyebrows in a less than furtive look of skepticism. "Help or cooperation?"

Landers offered a weak nod and moved over to the window. He twisted the suspended wand of the jalousie and peered between the wooden slats. "I see that your pursuers are still here. They're milling about in the middle of the quad, no doubt wondering where the two of you are."

Positioning a chair with its back to us Ferrara straddled it and rested his arms across its back, "It's like this, Mr. and Mrs. Black, we can't touch the bastards. They're irreproachable!"

"Come on, Ferrara," I sniped. "Are you trying to tell me they're above the law?"

Irritated he grimaced, "Mr. Black, you know know as well as us ... that these people and their operations don't officially exist. While we know that they have ties with high-ranking government officials and military leaders, we are also aware that they have had connections in the private sector."

Michelle nodded, "You're of course referring to the late Bishop King."

"Whose vast empire you and your husband now control," said Landers who was still peering out the window.

I stiffened and remarked, "...And you think that we are in bed with them? If that's what this meeting is all about, I can assure you that you are way off base."

Ferrara was drumming his fingers on the back of the chair as he spoke, "No, we don't think your working with them. We think that maybe, just maybe, they are afraid of you. Moreover, we believe that you may have something they want."

Landers closed the window slats and took up station next to his seated partner, "What ever that something is, we want you to keep dangling it out there. Maybe they'll slip up when they decide to take the bait."

"So," I muttered, "you're suggestive that we should work together?"

Peering over the chair back Agent Ferrara grinned, "You don't know whether or not to trust us, and we're not sure how cooperative you will be. Let's just say that we are suggesting a reluctant partnership on both sides." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card. "You can reach either one of us at that number."

"By the way," asserted Landers, "your friends piled into a car and drove away in the direction of the waterfront."

The two of them then slipped through the door into the corridor leaving us alone in the room. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. In turn we began to look about the room.

Michelle rose to her feet and grabbing the arm of the sofa began to move it away from the wall. I walked over to a small end table, lifted a lamp from the glass surface and picked up the small screwdriver that had been hidden beneath it.

She positioned herself by the door and cracked it open. Peering through the slit she nodded to confirm that the coast was clear. On her cue I began removing the cover to the light switch on the wall. I pushed aside some of the tangled wiring to reveal a small red button. When I depressed it a panel on the wall that had been hidden by the sofa slid open. I quickly replaced the switch cover and placed the screwdriver beneath the base of the lamp.

The portal was low to the floor and we had to stoop down to pass through it. I reached back into the room and pulled the sofa back to its original position. Once we were inside the panel closed.

"Here we are ... in Jordan's cocoon," Michelle said as she flipped a light switch by her shoulder.

We were standing in a massive room, nearly all of its walls lined with shelves upon shelves of electronic equipment of all sizes and shapes. On one of several benches lie a pair of neural headsets.

From behind a bank of large computer servers a gruff voice greeted us, "Welcome, I've been expecting you."

( To be continued with ...

Persephone )
№ 1970

Cheap Tomatoes

(The following is from an e-mail I received. I'm sure that it has been sent to a lot of people on the web and has been circulating for some time. It's a message that needs to continue its circulation.)

Cheap Tomatoes from a retired school teacher friend.
THIS HAS GOT TO BE PASSED ALONG TO AS MANY AS POSSIBLE OR WE WILL ALL GO DOWN THE DRAIN BECAUSE A FEW DON'T CARE.

This English teacher has phrased it the best I've seen yet.
Tomatoes and Cheap Labor

CHEAP TOMATOES?
This should make everyone think, be you Democrat, Republican or Independent

>From a California school teacher - - -


"As you listen to the news about the student protests over illegal immigration, there are some things that you should be aware of:

I am in charge of the English-as-a-second-language department at a large southern California high school which is designated a Title 1 school, meaning that its students average lower socioeconomic and income levels

Most of the schools you are hearing about, South Gate High, Bell Gardens , Huntington Park , etc., where these students are protesting, are also Title 1 schools.

Title 1 schools are on the free breakfast and free lunch program. When I say free breakfast, I'm not talking a glass of milk and roll -- but a full breakfast and cereal bar with fruits and juices that would make a Marriott proud. The waste of this food is monumental, with trays and trays of it being dumped in the trash uneaten.

I estimate that well over 50% of these students are obese or at least moderately overweight. About 75% or more DO have cell phones. The school also provides day care centers for the unwed teenage pregnant girls, (some as young as 13) , so they can attend class without the inconvenience of having to arrange for babysitters or having family watch their kids.

I was ordered to spend $700,000 on my department or risk losing
funding for the upcoming year even though there was little need for anything; my budget was already substantial. I ended up buying new computers for the computer learning center, half of which, one month later, have been carved with graffiti by the appreciative students who obviously feel humbled and grateful to have a free education in America .

I have had to intervene several times for young and substitute teachers whose classes consist of many illegal immigrant students, here in the country less then 3 months, who raised so much hell with the female teachers, calling them "PUTAS"(whores) and throwing things, that the teachers were in tears.

Free medical, free education, free food, free day care etc., etc, etc. Is it any wonder they feel entitled to not only be in this country but to demand rights, privileges and entitlements?

To those who want to point out how much these illegal immigrants contribute to our society because they LIKE their gardener and housekeeper and they like to pay less for tomatoes: spend some time in the real world of illegal immigration and see the TRUE costs.

Higher insurance, medical facilities closing, higher medical costs, more crime, lower standards of education in our schools, overcrowding, new diseases. For me, I'll pay more for tomatoes.

Americans, We need to wake up.

It does, however, have everything to do with culture: It involves an American third-world culture that does not value education, that accepts children getting pregnant and dropping out of school by 15 and that refuses to assimilate, and an American culture that has become so weak and worried about"political correctness" that we don't have the will to do anything about it.

If this makes your blood boil, as it did mine, forward this to everyone you know.

CHEAP LABOR? Isn't that what the whole immigration issue is about?

Business doesn't want to pay a decent wage.

Consumers don't want expensive produce.

Government will tell you Americans don't want the jobs.

But the bottom line is cheap labor. The phrase "cheap labor" is a myth, a farce, and a lie. There is no such thing as "cheap labor."

Take, for example, an illegal alien with a wife and five children. He takes a job for $5.00 or 6.00/hour. At that wage, with six dependents, he pays no income tax, yet at the end of the year, if he files an Income Tax Return, he gets an "earned income credit" of up to $3,200 free.

He qualifies for Section 8 housing and subsidized rent.

He qualifies for food stamps.

He qualifies for free (no deductible, no co-pay) health care.

His children get free breakfasts and lunches at school.

He requires bilingual teachers and books.

He qualifies for relief from high energy bills.

If they are, or become, aged, blind or disabled, they qualify for SSI. If qualified for SSI they can qualify for Medicaid. All of this is at (our) taxpayer's expense.

He doesn't worry about car insurance, life insurance, or homeowners insurance.

Taxpayers provide Spanish language signs, bulletins and printed material.

He and his family receive the equivalent of $20.00 to $30.00/hour in benefits.

Working Americans
are lucky to have $5.00 or $6..00/hour left after paying their bills and his.



Cheap labor? NO IT'S NOT!

THESE ARE THE QUESTIONS WE SHOULD BE ADDRESSING TO THE CONGRESSIONAL MEMBERS OF EITHER PARTY. 'AND WHEN THEY LIE TO US AND DON'T DO AS THEY SAY, WE SHOULD REPLACE THEM .

Please pass this on to as many as possible. Immigration legislation is to be considered in 2010. This is important to working Americans, our economy and our American culture and heritage..

№ 1969

Typo? Or Not?

A routine I often practice after work is to sit down with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. To begin, I remove the four-page pullout section which includes the daily comics and the puzzles.

After reading the comics, I turn to the four daily puzzles. I always start with the Jumble. (Pictured was today's puzzle.) It took 2 minutes to solve today.

From there I move on to the daily crossword. I'm one those who always uses an ink pen when solving puzzles. It usually takes me about 15 minutes.

Next comes the daily Sudoku puzzle. This one takes me about 20-30 minutes.

Finally I take up the challenge of trying to solve the daily CRYPTOQUOTE puzzle. This puzzle is usually the most challenging of the four puzzles. It has at times taken an hour to solve. Sometimes I've been unsuccessful in solving them.

Unlike the other three puzzles, the answers to which appear the same day somewhere in the back of the newspaper, Cryptoquote answers do not appear until the next day underneath the new puzzle.

It is the "answer" to yesterday's Cryptoquote that inspired this post. If you are unfamiliar with this type of puzzle, I'll give a brief description of it. The answer is a quote and the author or source of the quote. The puzzle itself uses a code of substitute letters in place of the original letters.

For example:
AXYDLBAAXR = LONGFELLOW

In the example, A is substituted for the three L's, X for the two O's, etc. Single letters, apostrophes, and the length and formation of the words are clues to aid in solving the puzzle.

I'm sure that has enlightened [sic] any one reading this post.

Now to my point as suggested by the title of this post. Yesterday's solution that I arrived at was:

I get to play golf for a living. What more can you ask for - getting paid for doing what you love. - Tiger Woods

When I looked at the printed answer to yesterday's puzzle, this is what appeared:

I get to play golf for a living. What more can you ask for - getting laid for doing what you love. - Tiger Woods

He might be an arrogant young man, but I'm certain he would have never been publicly quoted as making the the second version of the quote.

Now these puzzles are usually syndicated features and are made available to subscribing newspapers for a fee. I don't claim to know how they are received by newspapers, but I'm sure they've proofread by the syndicators before they are made available.

So, the question is, was it a typo that resulted in an "L" being used instead of a "P" - or did some joker do it deliberately?

I'm sure I'm not the only one who caught this ... I wonder if someone is, at the very least, going to get reprimanded?

In any event, what with Tiger Woods' well documented dalliances, I couldn't help but get a good chuckle out of it - typo, or not!

<-- Puzzles For Blondes
I Like jigsaw puzzles too!









№ 1968

Illegally Yours

"They say there are about 12 million illegal immigrants in this country. But if you ask a native American, the number is more like 300 million." - David Letterman



Now THIS would be justice!

JUST SO I UNDERSTAND THIS...YOU PASS THE NORTH KOREAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET 12 YRS HARD LABOR, YOU PASS THE AFGHAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET SHOT. YOU PASS THE AMERICAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET A JOB, DRIVER'S LICENSE, ALLOWANCE FOR A PLACE TO LIVE, HEALTH CARE, EDUCATION, BILLIONS OF DOLLARS SPENT SO YOU CAN READ A DOCUMENT. WE CARRY PASSPORTS IN OTHER COUNTRIES OR FACE JAIL TIME.


The following is passed on from the site of Ken Savage .
I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. What a beauty of a bird feeder it is, as I filled it lovingly with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food.

But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue. Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table … everywhere!

Then some of the birds turned mean. They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket. And others birds were boisterous and loud. They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food.

After a while, I couldn’t even sit on my own back porch anymore. So I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio.Soon, the back yard was like it used to be … quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal.

Now let’s see….

Our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, and free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen.

Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families; you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor; your child’s 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn’t speak English.

Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to ‘press one’ to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than ‘Old Glory’ are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties.

Just my opinion, but maybe it’s time for the government to take down the bird feeder. If you agree, pass it on; if not, continue cleaning up the poop!

A Divine Sign
A Mexican family crosses over the border to the Land of Milk and Honey where the streets are paved with gold. But the husband can find no work.

His family is hungry, so he takes a walk to a quiet place at the foot of a big hill, kneels at the base of a tree, and begins to pray: "Sweet Jesus, please show me a way to feed my family..."

Eyes closed, the Mexican does not see the BLACK man coming over the top of the hill, who is stumbling wildly with a broken grocery sack. When the Mexican man opens his eyes, a large wheel of cheddar cheese rolls down the hill an lands at his feet!

"Oh, thank you Jesus, thank you!" he cries, grabs the cheese, and runs straight home. Upon returning home, he gives the cheese to his wife and instructs her to make nachos.

"But wouldn't you rather have cheese enchiladas and burritos and other things?" she inquires.

"No," the husband says, "Jesus sent this to me with a message... As I ran home, I kept hearing Him yell, ' THAT'S NACHO CHEESE! THAT'S NACHO CHEESE!'

The 10 Commandments - Remake
The Ten Commandments airs Sunday on ABC in an updated eight-hour mini-series version of the Bible story. They were able to cut corners on the budget. Two million extras worked free of charge in the scene where Moses parts the Rio Grande.

Visa Requests
More and more Europeans, Middle Easterners and Asians are requesting Visas so that they can come to America to work. Apparently they think they're too good to go to Mexico and wait their turn at the truck stop.

№ 1967

Don't Say This In Bed

But everybody looks funny naked!

You woke me up for that?

Try breathing through your nose.

A little rug burn never hurt anyone!

Whipped cream makes me break out.

“Is your first time?” “Yeah. Today!”

Hurry up! This room rents by the hour!

Pass the remote control.

On second thought, let’s do turn off the lights.

And to think I was gonna try to pick up your friend!

So much for mouth-to-mouth.

I hope you look this good when I’m sober.

Do you get any premium movie channels?

Try not to smear my make-up, will ya?

Hey! I just had this couch cleaned.

Got any penicillin?

But I just brushed my teeth.

I thought you had the keys to the handcuffs.

I want a baby.

So much for my sexual fantasy fulfillment.

Why am I doing all the work?

Maybe we should call Dr. Ruth.

Hmm. Maybe I'll paint the ceiling beige.

When does this start feeling good?

Put that blender back in the kitchen!

You’re good enough to do this for a living.

Did I remember to take my pill?

Are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere?

Too bad you don't get the Playboy channel.

But my cat always sleeps on that pillow.

If you quit smoking, maybe you'd have more endurance.

No, really. I do this part better myself!

It’s nice being in bed with someone I don’t have to inflate!

This would be more fun with more people.

You’re almost as good as my ex!

Is that you I smell?

You look younger than you feel.

Maybe you’re just out of practice.

For a fat girl, you don’t sweat much!

That's not cracker crumbs, it’s a rash.

Now I know why they dumped you.

Does your husband own a sawed-off shotgun?

What tampon?

Have you ever considered liposuction?

And to think I didn’t even have to buy you dinner!

What are you planning for breakfast?

I was so horny tonight, I would have taken home a duck!

Is that a hanging sculpture?

You’ll still vote for me, won’t you?

Did I mention my sex change?

Did you come yet?

Did you come already?

Want to know who I’m fantasizing about?

A good plastic surgeon can fix that.

Does this count as a date?

Oprah had a show about people like you.

Biting is so romantic.

Would you like to meet my parents?

Have you seen Fatal Attraction?

Do you mind if I make a phone call while you finish?

Don’t worry, he’s friendly for a Doberman.

Sorry, I don’t do toes!

Could you at least pretend you’re enjoying it!

Keep it down. Mom’s a light sleeper.

Did you know I work for The Enquirer?

So that’s why they call you Flash!

My ex used to go a lot longer!

When’s it my friend’s turn?

Long kisses clog my sinuses.

How long do you plan to be “almost there?”

What do you mean: you’re not my blind date?

What do you think you're going to do with THAT?!

Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

I thought you had a condom!

I got your number from a bathroom wall.

That's my dad, the Police Chief. Why?

Nah, my last boyfriend said his AIDS was cured.

I thought in this state that 16 was legal.

When you said you were 'hung like a horse,' I wasn't thinking pony!

If you keep your feet up, you won't get pregnant.

Well, I'm done. How about you?

Oh, my kid-brother watches everything I do.

Don't you have anything in a large?

Did I mention I'm married?

Let me know when I'm supposed to breathe heavy.

When do I get paid?

I've never done this with someone else before.

You must be a good dentist... I didn't feel a thing.

Somehow I thought it was supposed to be bigger.

I can't believe I've been saving myself for that!

What do you mean, the condom's leaking?

That was much better than sheep!

Do you have a sister?

You don't mind if I wear surgical gloves, do ya?

Tell me if this hurts.

Have you seen the keys to the handcuffs?

Is it supposed to look like that?

Is it supposed to smell like that?

Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh.

Oh, hi, Dad!

Is it in?

I don't know what's wrong; it worked fine with your sister.

Dad says you'd make a great son-in-law.

I think 37 seconds is a new record for me.

Do you have a shoehorn?

Trust me.

Wrong hole! WRONG HOLE!!

№ 1966

Butterfly Dreams (14)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

Into the Labyrinth
Michelle grimaced and shifted in her chair. I studied her face for a moment to see if she was trying to signal me with her eyes. She was staring off into space.

Ever since our minds had been transferred into those bodies, mine into Michael and hers into Michelle, we had gained a limited ability to sense what the other was thinking. I picked up something but it wasn't thoughts.

"Oh!" she murmured. Her eyes closed and she began to tremble.

Moving to her side I placed my hand on her shoulder, "Michelle! What's wrong?"

"It's ...so cold," she shivered.

It wasn't her thoughts, but rather an icy aura I'd sensed. I realized that she must be experiencing that recurring dream, the same one she'd had that very morning.

When I touched her cheek she recoiled and opened her eyes. She placed her arms across her chest and clutched hard her shoulders. Still shivering she whispered, "I'm okay. I just had a sudden chill." Dropping her arms to her lap she added, "I hope I'm not coming down with something."

"You didn't look so hot a moment ago," O'Day offered. He nodded in my direction and said, "I think your husband should take you home for some rest and some TLC."

Hiding her indignation she responded, "No, I'll be alright. Whatever it was, it has passed."

I pushed myself away from the table, "Well, it would appear that our colloguing has produced little in the way of answers. Perhaps those answers lie with one Professor Bernard Jordan."

At that moment Brock's phone chimed. He glanced at the screen before speaking, "Yeah, McNeal." He listened for a moment and spoke again, "Provincial Bank, Water Street branch ... I'm two blocks from there now. On my way!"

"Trouble?" Michelle queried.

"Bank robbery in progress," he belched. He arose from the table and pointed to us in turn, "If you find Jordan, contact me. Don't leave me out of the loop!" He turned and trotted off to his cruiser parked nearby.

Michelle looked at me and answered my question before I could form the words. "Yes, it was the dream, the same dream! It's the first time I've had it while awake." She cupped her hands to the side of her face, "It was so intense this time. Like before, I'm cold and naked in a street. The images are the same ... Route 66, the motel and the swarm of blue butterflies ... It all seems so real!"

"Honey," I said leaning closer to her, "hear me out on this. Has it dawned on you that the first of the dreams, the disturbance of the graves, and the appearance of Ben and Susan at the bar have all taken place at relatively the same time?"

She gasped, "No, but now that you've mentioned it, I had that dream this morning. Then we received the call that mother ... Rosie was gone. Ben and Susan took her. Then the Feds showed up."

I nodded, "Then of course in the meantime, there were all of those accidents on the expressway."

She stood up and noted, "...And this time, O'Day gets called to a bank robbery!" She faced me, "Coincidence? I think not."


Fifteen minutes later Michelle pulled her car up to the curb a block away from the campus of Northeastern University. We had decided that our search for the professor would begin there. With so many people looking for him it was doubtful that he would seek asylum at such a logical location, but we reasoned that it was possible we might find a clue to his whereabouts.

As we strolled across the campus quad we were soon immersed in a sea of bodies. I remembered reading that NU had an enrollment of fifteen thousand undergraduates and over five thousand post grads. If Jordan had in fact returned to the university, it would be easy enough to hide out in the open amidst all of those students.

We observed with casual interest the myriad of students we passed on our way to the main science building. Men and women of all sizes and shapes, nationalities, religious beliefs and backgrounds paraded past us. Some of them were ambling along at a leisurely pace while others seemed more hurried. Several zipped past us on inline skates and skateboards, while others were astride bicycles.

I became conscious of our appearance and said to Michelle, "You know, we don't exactly blend in with the population in these business suits."

She nodded and replied, "You're right. We're probably dressed better than the instructors."

I craned my neck and scanned the outer edges of the campus. "We aren't the only ones. Check out those three over there," I said motioning across the campus in the direction of a large oak tree.

Following my line of vision she noted, "Feds. Do you suppose they've been following us?"

"Maybe," I stated, "or they're looking for the professor too." On a sudden impulse I grabbed her hand and began to jog pulling her after me, "Let's see if we get their attention."

She glanced back over her shoulder and announced, "It did. They're coming in our direction."

After twenty yards I steered her toward the closest building. "In here," I shouted.

"The Student Union Hall? Why there?" she asked trying to keep up with my pace.

"I don't know," I replied, "it just seems like the right place to go."

After we passed through the large glass doors I stopped for a moment inside the entryway and looked to see if our pursuers were in sight. Sure enough, they were not fifty yards away and fast closing the distance.

It was Michelle who led the way pulling me along by my arm. She pointed at a door marked 'Maintenance' and said, "Quick, in there."

Through the crack of the closing door I could see the three suited men barging through the doors. "Hell," I swore, "they're in the lobby and we're trapped in this closet."

Behind me Michelle was running her hands along the back wall. "I know it's here somewhere," she whispered.

Turning I responded, "Yes, you're right." I pointed to a spot near her hand, "The coat hook ... turn it to the left."

A section of paneling swished open to reveal a steep staircase which descended into the darkened depths of a basement. I didn't know how I knew it was there, but I grabbed a flashlight hanging from a nail next to the stair railing. Without hesitation, we stepped through the entrance.

Once we were both standing on a concrete landing just large enough for two people, the panel closed behind us. The beacon of the flashlight guiding us, we descended into the dank bowels of the building.

At the foot of the stairway Michelle faced me. Her confused expression was mirrored on my own face. She said, "This building, the maintenance room, the coat hook, the flashlight and those stairs ... how did we know?"

I shook my head, "I've been bouncing that one around inside of my skull. I..."

My words were interrupted by a rapping sound behind and above us. The three men must have been inspecting the maintenance closet. On cue I followed Michelle's lead down a long narrow hallway.

"We take the next corridor to the right," she announced.

"Yes, then a left for about a hundred yards and ... another left," I added.

I couldn't help but think that we were somehow being guided through the maze of underground tunnels. There could be no other explanation for the seemingly instinctive knowledge of the labyrinth in which we found ourselves. I knew Michelle had to have been thinking along the same lines.

Taking the perceived second left turn we came face to face with a solid wall. "Uh oh ... dead end," Michelle exclaimed.

I twisted my head in the direction we'd come, "I hear footsteps somewhere back there." I took a deep breath and exhaled, "I fear we've cornered ourselves."

"No," Michelle whispered, "we went the right way. I know it." She grabbed the flashlight from my hand and shone it above us.

There was a glint of light on something metal. "Yes. There's the ladder," I exclaimed. I grabbed the bottom rung and pulled the retractable fixture to the floor. I stepped aside and motioned for my wife to start climbing.

At the top of the ladder she said, "There's a trapdoor in the ceiling." When she pushed upon its surface it sprung open and we were bathed in a sudden stream of light from above.

Michelle scrambled through the portal and disappeared from view. Pulling myself up behind her I peered over the edge of the floor and called for her, "Michelle?"

Her reply sounded muffled and I sensed something was amiss. Pulling myself through the opening I found myself staring into the muzzle of a gun.

I mumbled under my breath, "Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly."

( To be continued with ...

Jordan's Cocoon )
№ 1965

Baby, It's Cold Outside !

At 8:30 this morning I was dressed in slippers, a pair of pants and a tee-shirt when I stepped outside to carry a bag of trash to the garage!

Aaarrghh !
It was only 35 degrees! I felt that maybe I should double check the calendar. When I went to bed last night, wasn't it the last week of April?

Northern Vermont, New Hampshire and parts of Maine were hit with six to eight inches of heavy wet snow! It is the last week of April, isn't it?

To Al Gore I say: "Take your global warming and shove it where only your constituents will kiss you!"

Of course here in New England there is always some wisenheimer (sp?) who's gonna come out with "If you don't like the weather in New England, wait a minute."

I seemed to remember that comedian Jeff Foxworthy once came up with some quips for New England using his 'you might be a redneck if..' routine.

You might be from New England if ...
If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time.

If you've switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' and back again in the same day.

If you know all four seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction.

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car.

If you find '10 degrees' a little chilly.

If driving is better in winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

If going south to escape the winter means anywhere on the map below New York City.

If there's a Dunkin' Donuts on every other corner.

Wait a minute! Imagine that!
It's going to be in the 60's tomorrow and in the 80's for the weekend.

№ 1964