George's Passing

I got a group of emails from my stepfather, Larry.  He and my mother are on a cruise through The Panama Canal and voyaging through Central and a bit of South America.  They are having a great time.  I had one night of good dreams and then, last night, was stressful again.  Last night, I had a dream with a Latino woman in it with a black cat.  The cat died, and then I petted it's face goodbye.  He came back to life.  She then said to me, "Oh yeah, I heard that you are a resurrector."  Maybe, working together, a strong team and my black op cop in Columbia Heights with the newest on the black op cop team, my brother Pete, we had a sting to end all stings before a major leisure industry went under. We needed to do it before my parents got back so the credit went where it needed to be.  My brother is an intuitive genius, but a genius Catholic with a genius Fundamentalist, created a purity to the close out with social security numbers provided by Pete and The Line Deputy.  I am sorry to be vague, but I must protect THE SOURCE.  In this case, there are so many.  Muncie, step up already.  Tell people that I am the only person who you all would allow to ride in the passenger seat of both cop cars and sheriff cars from scenes of action there.  You now know what you did not know, and how I kept my victories quiet.  So today, I can finally share the story of George Bush Sr.'s best friend/ oil business competitor, who went to grade school in Muncie, who was sent in to meet me at the public downtown library.  He took me to a new BBQ place downtown that belonged to W., but the recipes were from Sr.'s private drawer.  Sr. was rage, but when he found it was me, he was fascinated to see how my pallate responded to the different tastes and dishes.  He had been fascinated with my pallate since I was a baby.  He would pop in as Air Force (though he was heading The CIA the whole time) on Oahu.  He would bounce me on his left knew (which treated a war injury) while W. screamed and Jeb gnawed on my wood giraffe from Germany, made for a unique for of TMJ that sets in on fated leaders like a teething episode (It has been happening to me for two days now before I knew all of this would be on the page today.).  It was made by Mr. Shindler.  His factory made me a very special Barbie furniture set.  I was said to be a Jewish dream to answer their fatigue and grow their nation a mighty righteous soul for all to see.  Sr. was good to me.  He sent this man in to offer me a vocal contract with the country music industry.  I said that I could not take it, because I others are best with that genre.  I also felt like he was not ready for the cut throat of that industry yet.  He and Sr. were new in the industry, and the fact that they set up their shop in FL made them enemy of " the people."  I suggested he check out some of the songstresses at Cheeseburger in Paradise where I had done karaoke.  They then knew who was trying to steal my vocal ability in the vicinity.  I left that space shortly after that, but not before I met Boris Yeltsin and had a magical date with him on his Harley Davidson motorcycle.  He was actually a very good looking man with a full head of thick white hair and a very strong jaw.  He took me to a special cabin and we drank wine and talked.  He did it with ease, just like a sneeze.  Maybe it was because he was Dr. Suess.  He then took me back to Cheeseburger in Paradise on his Harley.  There are portaling zones for Germany, Russia, and The Orient all over Muncie, where even tanks can get through.  If these nations need to break through to boundary military or police (separately or together) in these zones because they are coming through the Jews in their vicinity, they have this space to portal military and equipment in.  I kept them open for now.  This oil man I met at the library was trying to offer me more, I know that now, but I knew, intuitively, that I needed to protect white and royal males' money, here and overseas.  This man was heinously wealthy, but he wanted a dream to produce original music with a natural and ordained artist to become reality.  Well, Sr., I wish you well in your passing from this realm to the next.  I was alone with that man and he was gentle with my poverty.  I needed Laura to not know that you had ever had met me because W. was still in presidency, and "nosy" is a very dangerous quality for a political wife.  Now that I saying goodbye, I can say that I could feel you right there, but I know to keep my knowing to myself.  The BBQ was magnificent.  "Maybe It's Time" by, Bradley Cooper from A Star is Born is playing on pandora.com.