Wednesday, Auggie 23, 41 A.B.

"If you want to be thought a liar,
always tell the truth."

- Logan Pearsall Smith, Essayist/Pirate

I hypnotized myself today.  Accidentally.  Before today I thought you needed a shiny pocket watch to hypnotize yourself, but no.  I was reading the newspaper at the time (yes, Cecil, that's all I do) and the deeper I got into an editorial in which the writer regularly swayed back and forth between inanity and incomprehensibility, the sleepier I got.  Next thing I knew, I was out and out hypnotized.  Which was fine with me, since full consciousness is entirely outside my comfort zone, but still...  had I known what was coming I would have placed a doily or two on my Barney bib so as to protect it from my drool.

Being somewhat less than a total fool, I immediately thought, "Well, as long as I'm hypnotized, I may as well try to regress to a prior life or recover a repressed memory or something."

Little did I realize what a cookie-free experience it would turn out to be!

As I believe I mentioned in last Friday's entry, I recently spent about 3 weeks in a drug-induced, court-ordered coma meant to keep me from playing havoc with the balloons at the political conventions.  Well, that's what I thought had happened to me, anyway, extrapolating from past experience and reading between the lines of the card which our criminal justice system sent along with the souvenir feeding tube signed by all the nurses.

What today's accidental self-hypnosis actually revealed to have happened, however, is that I was kidnapped and drugged by the Republicans in an attempt to keep me from revealing The Big Secret.

How do I know my kidnappers were Republican?

-  In a hurried attempt to disguise who they really were, they had reflexively wrapped themselves up in the American flag

-  One of them dropped several examples of Republican porn: glossy photos of silicon-enhanced gun sale figures and tight close-ups of Brady Bill mutilations

-  Whenever the Democrats try to snatch and hush me up, I'm always rescued by the police while my kidnappers are standing around the getaway car arguing over which minority's turn it is to drive and honk the horn

I managed to escape this time when they released those 15,000 reporters they first lured to Philadelphia with the promise of exclusive tidbits, then subjected to cruel and unusual info deprivation experiments.  Edward R. Murrow, for one, was not a happy camper - which, come to think of it, may say less about this year's Republican concentration camp than the wisdom of taking only live people with you when you go camping.

Anyway, what was The Big Secret they didn't want me to reveal?

I wish I knew.  Apparently it was so volatile that I knew better than to trust myself with it the moment I learned what it was.  As near as I can tell, however, it was this:

George W. Bush's grandfather was a senator.  George W. Bush's father was president.  George W. Bush's brother is governor of Florida.  Thus, there is good reason to believe that George W. Bush is actually a congenital politician.

And just when I was on the verge of conducting DNA tests on a smile Bush had inadvertently left behind at a fund raiser - tests which just might prove this fact beyond all reasonable doubt, especially to a jury of his intellectual peers - the Republicans kidnapped me!

Coincidence?  Yeah, right.

But enough for now.  Time to snap my fingers and -

Full consciousness??  Damn!  What did I ever do to deserve THIS?!

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A Bit Of The Past Yourself



Embrace Your Inner Forwardian

(©Now by Dan Birtcher, a would-be editorial writer
who's just about got the swaying back-and-forth part down for himself now)

Flashing my soul

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