...
Since I've only had a few minutes' sleep and those minutes were full of Joe Rogan dropping his coarseness and going all hero on me, and then, scantily-clad, I was out in the parking lot in a marvelously warm downpour. I was having extreme difficulty walking. It was as though the warm rain were taffy, and I was trying to flip the pinball machine up and squeeze under it to get back inside, but it wasn't happening, and I was just about resolved to go back out in the glorious rain that made me walk like taffy to get to a real door when the fucking phone rang.
The postmaster.
Sounding like the canary that got away from the cat.
I have packages.
I need to report in for packages and listen about his fabulous trip to Greece.
...
And, ya know, Christopher Walken, I've probably mentioned this to you before, but I remember that dweeby genius at a Mensa gathering who was sheepishly admitting to me that he was a Lyndon LaRouche follower. I frowned. Oh, that's very bad, very bad indeed. When suddenly it occurred to me that I didn't know Thing One about Lyndon LaRouche. Well, excepting if you count knowing I'd heard his name before.
Bubkes! I had never seen him or read about him or heard anything about him but his name. There was disdain attached to that name. He's a righty maniac. That was the timbre of the disdainful tones and confirmed with this sheepishness in front of me. Holy fuck!
What am I doing?
How did that get in here?
And that's not the only example of how seamlessly I fit into my herd... wild and weirdo babe as I was... definitely immediately identifiable nonconformist me. Mind control. It's not just for morons. It's actually better suited to smart people. As soon as they figure out how smart they are, there is almost no chance they will ever be able to see how stupid they are. Struth dudes. Don't be jackasses.
