AT A SECRET AIRFIELD SOMEWHERE

It is with great joy that I report that none of the old fossils in the back room today had a fecal event. Earlier in the week there had been one such, on a day when I wasn't in -- and now I'm thinking that it is time to acquire a riding crop, because I'm such a loving Christian filled with warmth to my fellow human beings damn them -- which means that one of the chairs in the back has seen better days.

Given that the latest blend from Per Georg Jensen and Sutliff is out now, and rather tasty, my day was actually rather enjoyable. And I didn't even snap fiercely at anyone, despite there being plenty of candidates for beheading.

The fact that I got enough sleep the night before may have had something to do with that.
Oh yeah, and enough tea to float a battleship. I was hepped to the gills.


"Lynn is an American agent, but fortunately she's expendable."


Beware of security agencies in banana republics.

They're usually corrupt as all heck.

If it were up to me, I'd take the bodies and dump them in the toxic waste pools behind the presidential palace, where so many of "them" promptly ended up during the CIA-organized "redemocraticization" headed by El Lider Arthur Funt, who was entirely owned by us.
So sad that he died in that unfortunate bedroom accident. Part fox, part snake.
And now part cement in a barrel.


We'll have to bomb the hide-outs in the jungle.


When sports are on the telly, which occupies a very large span of their fading intellectual capacities, my thoughts tend to wander. Perhaps the tobacco blend -- Paradoxical -- had something to do with that today. It contains rustica, which ups the quantity of an alkaloid which is used recreationally world-wide as a stimulant and anxiolytic.
It's also in present in potatoes, tomatoes, and eggplants.
It's why you love fries and ketchup.

Combined with caffeine, the cognetive enhancing effects of the substance in question are magnified like you wouldn't believe oh jayzus.


Invaluable to the war effort. So will we need to deny the Russians any of it, and at all costs prevent them from laying their greasy heathen hands on even one tin of Paradoxical, or its sister blend Abberant. It's all ours, dammit. And both of them are limited editions.



I do not know how to end this transmission, so I shall move forward, not backward, upward not forward, and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom!"

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