This month is when the heat gets turned up in
therealljidol. We've passed the 75 player mark, which means that players can no longer take a bye when life gets in the way. Also, we'll be losing two people from each tribe instead of the usual one. With this in mind, the topic for this week is Cracking up.
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If you're reading this, then it's too late for me. I'm gone - Gitmo, the secret holding stations in the Yukon, maybe rendered off to Lebanon or Area 51. I have no idea. But it's over for me, I can tell you that much.
People used to call me a crackpot, a nut-job, a paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of persecution, but I KNEW THE TRUTH, dammit, and the truth can never be covered up for long.
Not that they don't try. Oh yeah, you think CNN is news? Try watching it backwards and on acid. You'll see, my friends, you'll see.
I was doing okay, really. I had the copper-lined baseball cap (tinfoil is an urban legend, planted by the CIA back in 1963 when they started their mind-control experiments - they spread the rumor that tinfoil blocks the satellite rays, but it doesn't. You may as well make your hats out of papier-mache for all they care. But copper? Copper really screws 'em up....) and I made sure to sit in a prime-numbered subway car, as usual. I counted the people who came on, and sure enough, the fifth person to come through the door nearest me was a man in a blue suit.
Every. Time.
You tell me that doesn't mean something.
I walked by the fuit stand on the corner. The guy there always has oranges, even when they're out of season. I suspect that the oranges are genetically engineered - they certainly look brighter and more orange than regular oranges, and if they can do that, then they can do anything. Like they did putting fluoride in the water to break our wills and turn us into obedient zombie slaves.
I got to work. The secretary always has on blue eyeshadow, but today it was green. I think it might have been a signal. We always got along, so I think she was trying to tell me that something was wrong. If only I had understood at the time! I could have saved myself.
People say that I'm paranoid. Well, the people who talk to me do. The court-ordered shrink did, anyway. Not many people talk to me anymore, not after I lectured the breakroom about how the alien lizard Jews were cloning human leaders. It's all about the foreskins, my friends - think about it - but no one wants to listen. I told them how Dick Cheney brought down the Twin Towers personally in order to eliminate evidence of a trans-temporal gateway that he set up in order to divine a way to ensure Republican rule forever. When he found out it couldn't be done, he ordered the whole complex destroyed.
Don't ask me why, man. I may be nuts, but Cheney is a whole other level of crazy. Don't ask me about the Cuban children, either - you don't want to know.
Anyway.
I was at work. I wanted a ham sandwich for lunch, so I went to the lunch cart.
My boss stopped me, said he wanted to talk to me about something.
I should have known.
"Come into my office," he said to me. "And, uh, take your hat off."
Oh yes. This was it. He knew.
"I got an interesting call today. From the Department of Homeland Security. Something about emails to the President-elect...."
I don't remember much after this. A sixteen-hour hostage standoff. Flashing lights and yelling. My face pressed against the carpet. Something about pentathol... I can't really remember.
The doctors think I'm writing this as a diary. They say it's part of my therapy. But I know better than that.
Someone needs to know. Someone needs to know what I know.
If only I remembered what I know....
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"Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most."
- Mark Twain