Thursday, May 18, 2006

Bill the Cat Dei

Fact: I saw Dan Brown meet with those men in August of '95. I saw it with my own eyes, and you can't refute what I saw, because I saw it. Conveniently, all the paperwork (signed documents, cash transaction receipts, written transcripts of conversations, surveillance audio and video, etc.) burned in a office fire 2 days after the meeting, and cannot be recovered. Coincidence? I think not. Again, all you need to do is some investigating, and you'll see that you can't refute what I say. It's irrefutable evidence, so to speak.

With the paperwork gone, I'll have to recount that night's events from memory. Mr. Brown arrived at the IHOP in an unnamed Northeastern US location at approx. 11pm. He was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and a heavily worn backwards baseball cap with the words "Jesus Sucks" on the front, and carrying a flask with an unknown substance inside. The two men he met there were dressed in pink overcoats. All three shook hands, and I turned on my intermittently defective parabolic microphone. I could not have prepared myself for what I heard next:

Well, I don't remember the exact words since it was over 10 years ago, plus the microphone kept turning itself off, but the gist of it is Mr. Brown expressed an interest in bringing down Christianity, since he came from a long line of Gnostic Priests who call themselves "Bill the Cat Dei." The two men returned that interest, and they did a secret handshake -- the secret handshake passed down from Gnostic to Gnostic for hundreds of years. Then they all did something very strange, and I swear on my momma I am not making this up -- they all stuck their tounges out and said "Ack!" Seeming satisfied with this, the three sat down, and the two pink men told Brown to write a book asserting that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene and the Catholic Church tried to cover the marriage up. They told him to make it a breezy spy-thriller so that people would buy it. Then they told him to have it made into a crappy movie starring Tom Hanks. I remember Mr. Brown asking them to clarify that last point, and they told him that a) the movie had to be crappy, and b) it had to star Tom Hanks. They told him they could take care of all the particulars, all Brown had to do was write the book and sell the rights to the appropriate movie studio. Mr. Brown then did the secret handshake with each of the pink men again, and left the IHOP in such a hurry that his "Jesus Sucks" hat flew off. The waitress didn't even get a chance to ask Mr. Brown if he wanted some coffee.

Bill the Cat Dei. Explains a lot, doesn't it?

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Slow Week

Don't worry...more to come...

Friday, April 14, 2006

Tom Tom Club

"Hey, Tom, welcome to our club."
"Thanks. Say, what is this room here, anyway? It looks like we're standing at the bottom of a giant metal coffee can, with the ridges in the floor and on the walls."
"Ha, ha. The vaunted Tom sense of humor, always coming through. Can I take your coat?"
"Sure. It is quite warm in here. And what's that smell? It's divine."
"It's a special incense imported from Spain. We have some for sale at our gift shop, if you'd like to purchase it later."
"Yes, I think I might do that."
"Here, let me introduce you to a friend of mine." (yelling) "Tom, yes you, you Tom. No, not you, the guy in the purple sweater. Come over here for a moment, would you?"
(whispering) "Is everybody here really named 'Tom'?"
"Of course. If they weren't a Tom, they wouldn't be allowed in here. Isn't that great?"
(out of breath) "Hey, Tom. You like my purple sweater? I bought it at your suggestion, so you just have to tell me if you like it."
"It's ok. Tom, would you tell our newest Tom here about the shape of the room? He's ever so curious."
"Sure thing, Tom. Let's see...I know this...the walls and floor are made of a low-grade aluminum to represent the wonderful qualities of Toms, which are solidity, toughness, light, and shine. It doesn't have corners because Toms don't cut corners. You can't find the door because once you come in, you can most likely never leave."
"Very good, Tom. You can go now."
"Thank you, Tom."
"Hmm...that response seemed coached. Do I have to learn that to be a member of this club?"
"No, no, no. That particular Tom just gets into all sorts of mischief if we don't give him a constant barrage of things to keep his mind on. Do you realize who that was? Do you recognize him?"
"No...should I?"
"Well, he is the world's formost authority on genetics."
"Really."
"I guess I should say was the world's foremost authority on genetics. Now he's too preoccupied with memorization and stupid purple sweaters to concentrate on science. Terrible waste of brain, actually."
"Um..."
"I'm sorry. I'm just get tired of dealing with all these Toms all the time. Would it kill them to find a chick named Tom? There just too many dudes in here. I don't even recognize half of them, and I give all of them the opening tour and jello shots."
"..."
"I'm sorry again. Look, stay here and look around for a sec. I gotta go clear my head."
"Ok, sure..."
(5 minutes pass)
"Ok, I'm back. Did I mention the jello shots? They're really yummy."
"You know, I've been all the way around this wall and I didn't find any door. Where's the place we came in?"
"Oh, that. It's back there."
"We didn't come in over there."
"Yes, but the room spins ever so slightly in one direction or the other. It's one of those things."
"So show me where the door is now."
"Ok, but I can't find it. We need one of the special Toms dedicated to door finding." (shouting)"Can I get a door-finder here! Need a door finder!"
"This seems so silly."
"Everyone has a job here, Tom. That's one of the great features of the club, along with its fine selection of cheeses."
"Yes, Tom. You have need of my services?"
"Tom, this Tom would like to find where the front door is."
"Why? I mean, what good would that do? We were having so much fun."
"I know, I know. Tom, don't talk. Just point the door out."
"Okaa-ay, but I don't know why you have to...ok, it's over there." (pointing)
"That's the opposite way of where we came in. The room could not possibly have spun that much since my arrival."
"Oh, he makes me do that for no reason and now he doubts me? Go over there and look, if you think I'm wrong!"
"Thank you, Tom. you may go now. Um, new Tom? Where are you going?"
"Looking for the door."
"Ok, but I must warn you: What you're doing, the path you're taking, it won't end well.
"Fine. Just let me out of here."
"Oh, look. There the button is, right there. Can you see it?"
"That little button there? Yes, barely."
"That button opens the door to the outside world. Once you leave, you can never come back."
"I can live with that." (presses button)
"Nothing happened."
"Yes, it did."
"Um, I'm still here. I said let me out!"
"No use raising your voice. Here, calm down and have a jello shot on the house."
"I don't want a fricking jello shot! I don't want anything! Let me out of here before I call the police!"
"Whoa, there, big Tom. No need to do that. The button did something, it's just going to take a while to get us to a point where the door can open. You really should try a jello..."
(pressing button repeatedly) "LetmeoutLetmeoutLetmeoutLetmeoutLetmeout!"
"You know, that's not going to make things go any faster, and it's liable to piss off Tom."
"Well, I'm a pissed off Tom, you freak! I told you I was going to call the cops, and I..."
(door opens with a "whoosh.")
"There. See? Your precious door has opened. Now what will you do with yourself?"
"Hey, where'd all the other Toms go?"
"The other 'Toms,' as you call them, won't allow themselves to be corrupted by the outside world. They heard the button was pressed, and they left."
"Man, it sure is bright out there."
"Yes, whine about that too. Before you go, are you absolutely sure you want to leave this club? Like I said, you can never come back. In fact, you won't even be able to find this place again."
"I can live with that, Tom. Smell ya later." (turns to leave)
"No, you wont." (door shuts)

Tom drank in the fresh air, relieved to be out of the ashtray. He turned around, and all he saw was a brick wall. He remembered that those Toms still had his coat, and he punched the wall. He really liked that coat, and it was cold outside.

He was standing in an alley he'd never been in before, in a city he'd never been in before. It took a plane and a cab to get him back home. When he got there, he sold his cat and legally changed his name to "Tim."

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Nun with a Gun

Sam was a nun, but Sam wasn't a real nun. No, he wasn't in some bad movie -- he was simply a hitman trying to get close to the apartment building across the street from the convent. An uzi was strapped to his lower leg at all times, just in case he saw The Subject and had an opportunity to rush his ugly mug and get this job over with. It had been 6 months, after all.

He hd never even seen this guy, this pants salesman from Laredo, whom he was supposed to kill. He didn't even know what the man did, just that he must be killed. 6 months in a convent hadn't changed Sam's mind about this -- the pants salesman must die, ASAP. Not even daily prayers and whippings from the Head Mother could change his evil hitman heart.

On Monday, the 21st of May, he was planting carrots in the convent's garden. It was then that he saw The Subject. He looked just like he did in the black-and-white picture Sam memorized, except he was in color. Sam felt his leg -- the uzi was still there, and there was a slit in his nun robe for easy access. He unstrapped it and brought it up to his chest, trying to camouflage it against the black of his raiments. He got up and strode quickly in the man's direction. The man was almost in range. In two seconds, Sam would be an ex-nun.

Head Mother watched this with a furrowed brow. She had originally accepted Sam (and pretended he was a nun) to pay off a mob debt. When Sam uzied the man across the street, the debt would be repaid and she would be rid of him. However, she no longer thought that an acceptable resolution. After Sam was gone , who would get the mayonnaise off the top shelf? Who would plant the carrots when the weather got too hot? Who would raise his male voice in song, pleasantly complementing the historically over-estrogenned choir? Most importantly, who would deliver the nuns from the evil of having to move the stone chairs into the meeting room during nun conferences? She didn't want to go back to the days of sore backs every seven weeks. Nuh-unh. She reached down for the sniper's rifle that was strapped to her lower leg and unstrapped it. Good thing the Bible don't say nothin' about packin' heat, she thought. Then she aimed.

If God couldn't have him, neither could the devil.