Copyright 1997 Pearl Publishing
Dr. May pointed to the omelet that the orderly had placed in front
of Arnold. "This is your mind without drugs."
he told his favorite patient.
The orderly took away the omelet and replaced it with a plate of scrambled eggs. "This is your mind on drugs." Dr. May continued.
The orderly replaced the scrambled eggs with eggs 'over easy.' "This is your mind being sodomized by New York City Police CypherPunks!"
The orderly grabbed Arnold and forced his mouth open, as Dr. May shoved the eggs into it and forced them down his throat with a toilet plunger. Arnold began gagging and choking, struggling to free himself, as the eggs hatched and turned into chickens, filling his mouth, throat and stomach with feathers.
"Good morning, Arnold." Melissa pulled his head
out of the pillow and began cleaning the feathers out of his mouth.
"It looks like you're having another fit. Have you been doubling up on your medication again?"
Arnold stared blankly at the woman who was sitting on the edge
of his bed, wiping his face clean from the combination of slobber
and chicken feathers that made him look like an unholy mess.
"Doctor Melissa!" Arnold shouted with joy. He couldn't remember where he knew her from, but he knew she was a good person-she was his friend.
Melissa helped Arnold out of bed, straightening his pajamas with
great concern for his appearance, knowing it would help him to
retain his dignity.
"You don't really remember who I am, do you Arnold." Doctor Melissa said, softly, eyeing him with great concern.
"No." Arnold replied, truthfully.
"Well," said Melissa, a widening smile breaking
across her face, "do you remember Boot War III?"
She kicked him in the groin as she shouted the words, sending Arnold falling to the floor, clutching at his private parts, which were in immense pain.
Dr. Young entered the patient's room, smiling at Arnold's predicament.
He turned to his fellow physician with a smile.
"Good morning, Dr. Schultz. I see that you have welcomed Arnold back to our little family."
Bending over to speak to the fallen Arnold, Dr. John Young spoke sternly to him, saying, "You know that you can't stay away from the 'Home For the Criminally Insane' for longer than your weekend pass permits. We have rules here, Arnold. This is not an anarchy, you know. This is a government facility."
Dr. Young turned and left the room, motioning for Doctor Melissa to follow him.
Arnold was beginning to remember Doctor Melissa, and how she was
working at Nuthouse Number Nine, and then ran away with Bubba
d'Shauneaux to join the Circle of Eunuchs, and now she was back
here, kicking him.
"You're a double agent!" Arnold said, bitterly disappointed and feeling betrayed.
"Triple agent." Melissa whispered, slipping him his aluminum foil hat on her way out of the room. She locked the door behind her.
? the Lunatic had laid out all of the evidence he had gathered
concerning the Circle of Eunuchs' subtle presence that wound a
long and scattered trail throughout the media industry of the
He found it hard to believe that The Real Guy expected him to go along with the plan to use evidence of the Magic Circle's influence on the mainstream media as 'proof' that there was no grand conspiracy by secret agencies to thwart the efforts of wild-eyed conspiracy theorists to shed light on the dark undercurrents that run throughout society and government, at every level.
? the Lunatic knew that he could provide a mountain of circumstantial
evidence that would provide an outline of the visage of the Magic
Circle which shone through the dark veil that the Evil One and
his minions had thrown over reality through their manipulation
of the mainstream media. But 'circumstantial evidence' only served
as 'proof' for those who already believed.
This was as true for Mike Tyson as it was for O.J. Simpson, as it was for Marv Albert.
And for the Circle of Eunuchs, as well
? the Lunatic laughed like the psychotic maniac he truly was.
He enjoyed being a madman. It gave one the freedom to let
one's mind wander into the realm of forbidden thought, without
guilt and without blame.
"I'm a fucking lunatic!" he shouted to the electronic monitors on the ceiling above him. He knew 'they' were watching him. He knew that 'they' would only allow him to divulge those things that they approved of to the mass of humanity being imprisoned outside of the walls of the "Home for the Criminally Insane," where they could be controlled and manipulated by threatening them with the loss of their physical freedom.
"The fools!" he shouted at the ever-present
'they' whose physicality lay at the end of the chain of electrons
which they could use to spy on his body, but not on his mind.
"They will call me 'mad' for telling them the truth, and you will call them 'fools' for hearing the truth and thinking it to be madness."
"You use me, I know." ? the Lunatic whispered
into the hidden instruments which were an open secret in the facility.
"I wear the hat of madness," he said, tipping his aluminum hat to his covert companions, "and I dance the dance of the fool, for your amusement." he did a pirouette which turned into a curtsey as he reached behind his back and brought forth a bottle of "Bubba's Private Reserve" and a shotglass.
"But I have my moments " ? the Lunatic said, with a sly wink, knowing that the watchers would be launching into a scurry of activity to consult their superiors about his possession of a forbidden substance.
? the Lunatic sat down in front of his keyboard, prepared to reveal
all to those who had ears to hear, and eyes to see.
He knew that he would be allowed his forbidden libation, just as he would be allowed his forbidden thoughts-for his captors needed the words of truth he would speak to serve as a threat to those who feared the freedom of imprisonment in the 'Home For the Criminally Insane.' His captors feared that if the masses did not hear the truth first, from a madman, that they might hear it from the Saints, from the voices of reason who were hiding on the outside, in the midst of the madness storming the land.
On the far side of the rubber walls around him, ? the Lunatic
knew that there existed a world in which Lenin's Parrot echoed
the dangerous thoughts of the "People's Czar" in the
music that he used to whisper forbidden socialist secrets to the
children of the masses.
But, within the boundaries of free thought where the words of truth bounced back to the ears of those who spoke them, Lennon's Parrot was a dirty bird who spoke the forbidden words that made their owner a threat to National Security and a target for surreptitious eyes and ears.
"No matter how many times you throw me into the rubber room," ? the Lunatic spoke to his hidden captors, "I will always bounce back."
He laughed maniacally and began to type rapidly, as if his very life depended upon completing the mission he had been assigned by forces beyond his reach, pleading with him to use his madness as a protective cover to spread the truth across the face of the earth, as the seeds of a madman who cared not whether they fell on barren or fertile soil, but only that they were spread far and wide, so that they might take root in the places where there were cracks and crevices in the wall of evil that had been built around the minds of mankind..
"You didn't believe A Player To Be Named Later, did you?" ? the Lunatic said, as he typed, 'af;jdafkjeqruerjfurq2r09r9uriejroiureur '
He would continue to type utter nonsense for hour after hour, as his monitors became dazed and confused, little understanding that his speech was for those who monitored him from a century in the future, capturing his thoughts and opinions in order to better understand the details of the history of the Magic Circle which lay at the foundation of their hope for a future in which their minds would find freedom and their bodies would live in liberty, beyond the tight grasp of the Evil One and the Dark Forces who strove to enslave them.
"You can see through the deceptive trickery of his claims
of precognition in releasing information in Part III of 'The True
Story of the InterNet' which would later be confirmed by independent
? the Lunatic was speaking directly to the skeptics who he knew would be wracking their brains in order to find new ways to dismiss the growing mountain of evidence that the Magic Circle not only existed, but that it existed in every segment of society, leaving clues as to its existence laying in plain sight, but shrouded in parables and in allegory.
"Presidents and Computer Gods don't involve themselves in the ranting of lunatics writing subversive manuscripts for secret societies claiming to be fighting for freedom from the Dark Forces existing as an undercurrent throughout the world of impersonal technology. Every one knows that "
"It's a game. It's nothing but a game. The LMBoyd sampler
must have been sent out before chapter 20 of 'InfoWar' was submitted
to the CypherPunks mailing list. And if it wasn't
whoever authored it must know somebody on the inside of
the LMBoyd web site
someone who is working in collusion with
"It's the rational explanation."
? the Lunatic smiled diabolically as he continued typing madly and speaking madness.
"The rational explanation " he continued. "The rational explanation for the thinly veiled references to the Author throughout the entertainment media must be 'coincidence' and 'collusion.' It cannot be otherwise."
"The references to him on Miami Vice could be the result
of the Armadillo World Headquarters employee who went on to become
their casting director. Likewise with the figure named C.J. Parker
"Parker is a common name," he continued, as if trying to convince himself, "and that would explain the characters named Parker in the X-Files, or was it Millennium or was it both?" ? the Lunatic would leave this as an exercise for the reader, as the CypherPunks were so quick to say when challenging those reading their mailing list to learn to think and reason for themselves.
"What about 'JAG'?" he asked himself, in a conspiratorial
whisper, his mind sinking deeper and deeper into the dark waters
of an ocean of paranoia which was capable of swallowing up the
strongest of deep-thought divers who explored the underwater caverns
of the subconscious mind.
"Surely it couldn't be a Circle of Eunuchs project aimed at subliminally confirming the Author's claims of the existence of a secret arm of Navy intelligence which was working behind the scenes with groups such as the Circle of Eunuchs and the CypherPunks in order to defend the Constitution, and freedom itself, from the plans of a secret government to use the secret forces of the CIA and NSA to implement a New World Order in America and the rest of the free world."
"No," ? the Lunatic continued, sarcastically,
"it has to be just a coincidence that the lead actor is
a Canadian, that the lead actress is named 'Bell,' that the Circle
of Eunuchs' Bubba d'ShaunEAUX was connected to a comedy writer,
Patrick LabyortEAUX, who worked with a Canadian confidante of
the Author in 'Little House on the Prairie' and whose character
in JAG bore the initials BR, as in Bubba Rom Dos. And, of course,
the Admiral in the TV series was chosen without any regard for
his relationship to the Author when he guest-starred in 'Northern
"And, naturally," the madman smiled to those monitoring him, as he typed his insane nonsense onto his computer screen at an increasingly faster rate, "the reference to SOG in the CBS season premiere had nothing to do with the son of gomez."
"No, it is all coincidence!" ? the Lunatic rose, with the bottle of "Bubba's Special Reserve" in his hand, waving it about as he spoke to the secret watchers, letting his madness take its ground.
"Nor was the TV movie 'CLONED!' part of a Circle of Eunuchs
warning about the secret activities of the underground Nazis portrayed
in 'The Boys From Brazil' which intimated that cloning was possible,
and gave details which were unknown to most scientists until years
"No!" he roared at the ceiling and walls. "The name of the company doing the cloning in the movie, 'Nor'West', mirroring the name of the company the Author started the same year that 'The Boys From Brazil' was released-the 'Northwest Mountain Madness Company', whose motto was 'If we can do it, it can't be done "
"The name of the mother of the dead child being cloned was, Sky the same as the name of the dead son of the Author but it was a coincidence, I tell you, a coincidence."
"a horde of major armed forces figures suddenly resign or are shifted to non-sensitive positions-and the world hardly seems to notice."
? the Lunatic quoted from chapter 19 of 'InfoWar,' knowing that
the 60 Minutes piece a few days later on the railroading of Air
Force Lt. Col. Rogers and another Air Force intelligence agent
named Julie Clemin would only be recognized by Magic Circle members
as bearing the marks of the persecution of their secret initiates.
No notice, no chance for self-defense, merely relieved of command and immediately transferred to a remote location with an office in a warehouse that contained no phone and no way of communicating with the outside world. A sham court-martial where he was charged with 'conduct unbecoming an officer,' for allegedly running over a cat with his vehicle, among other ludicrous charges. Finally convicted for walking on parked cars without causing any damage to them.
"Yes, we the sheeple," ? the Lunatic shouted,
as he sat down at his laptop and resumed typing nonsense, "the
Air Force threw away a career officer with a million dollars invested
in his training, for walking on parked cars.
"Nothing unusual there! Everybody just go back to sleep."
? the Lunatic was beginning to nod out, himself.
He could tell them more much, much more, but there was really no point in doing so.
? the Lunatic was tempted to tell the sheeple about Intel, but
they would find out soon enough what the threats of anti-trust
action were all about.
Besides, if the sheeple couldn't follow the course of their future by reading the plain facts surrounding the issues of life and technology that were posted daily to the CypherPunks list, then it was unlikely they were capable of following the whispering thread of the Tao.
? the Lunatic hit his return key, knowing the flurry of activity
it would cause in the monitoring room when his watchers discovered
that they could not prevent his missive from going past their
firewalls and into the outside world.
It would be days before their experts, after working night and day in frenzied effort, would conclude that everything he sent was pure gibberish.
He may be crazy, but he felt the warm glow of the world's finest
bourbon washing over him, and he knew that he, unlike his watchers,
was going to sleep peacefully tonight.
Copyright "Anonymous TruthMonger <[email protected]>"
"I may be crazy, but at least I'm not you."