Being locked away from the world outside due to fear of nuclear annihilation as its advantages. I’m still very disappointed Bush won re-election, but until I get that blog up and running, I don’t see very many opportunities to communicate with the outside world about it. Fortunately, lacking communication with the world, I’ve found other ways to spend my time. For one, I’m working on that book I’ve long wanted to get done—not the novel A Fistful of Tannenbaum, that’s more a thinly-veiled autobiography of what happened to me and a friend trying to exchange pesos for dollars in Mexico City, although slightly embellished.

No, the book I’ve long wanted to work on is an encyclopedia of the world’s greatest conspiracies. To refute the false claims and reinforce the false claims I prefer—which is to say, the truth. I’d like to print some of the work I’ve been doing on that in this column, not only because I have nothing else going on in my life, but because my commune fanmail has been instrumental in helping me amass both conspiracies and the proof I need for them. Since most of the questions mailed to me consist of the same two introductions—one, “Dude, what the fuck is up with…” and two, “Yo, me and my friend were really high the other night and got to wondering…”—I’ll just go ahead and jump right to the conspiracies themselves.

The Secret of Area 51

That’s not quite a question, but I think I see where you’re going with this. Amateur conspiracy buffs believe the government is hiding one or more alien spacecraft at Area 51, more specifically “Hangar 18.” This is a dumb misunderstanding, because some lame tourist wandering the installation in 1949 saw a weird spaceship in the hangar while looking for a men’s room. Hangar 18 is, in fact, only a parking lot for alien visitors who have traveled across the stars to donate sperm for our “alien impregnation” program. They get $30, a plate of cookies, and all the free human-on-human porn they need. Don’t judge if they get a kick out of it. But Area 51 itself is just a big alien spunk collection base. The fact they won’t let private citizens in to see—count yourself lucky. Alien auto-erotic stimulation is particularly nasty, and the little buggers have lousy aim.

Is Bigfoot for Real?

Bigfoot does not exist. A guy died a few years ago and his kids admitted the whole thing was a hoax he liked to do while unemployed for long periods of time, so you can guess he did it a lot. There was a short time between 1968 and 1984 (during my Miami Vice look) when I vehemently believed in Bigfoot. This is best explained by the time-travel erasure theory. Bigfoot no longer exists because some dickwad from the future got a hold of a professor’s time machine, traveled back to before Bigfoot time, and kept him from coming into being. Between 1968 and 1984, I must have been immune to the effects of the time erasure, but it caught up with me. Bigfoot is no longer real. I’m sure this time.

Who Really Killed JFK?

Nixon strangled him after Kennedy won their first debate. An act of passion, Nixon shrugged his shoulders and looked sorry, so witnesses let it slide. They had plenty of other Kennedys to fall back on, thanks to cloning.

Who Really Killed the JFK Clone in 1963?

Christ, sir, do I have to know everything? The popular theory right now is that he was killed by a group of runaway JFK clones, who were jealous of his selection to replace the real JFK, but I find that rather silly. I tend to believe it was a group of Lee Harvey Oswald clones, and they would have been caught and revealed the whole Kennedy conspiracy and the existence of clones, until they were gang-raped by a group of Jack Ruby clones. Of course, the 1974 Leehi Commission on Human Cloning still claims this is all bullshit, and won’t let me have any of my pictures back, conveniently enough.

Now I’ve only rippled the surface of the water. I’m saving the best bits for my book, but I hope it has gotten you interested enough to invest. Send me more mail, and money.

Steal This Election: 2004
More blatant instances of voter intimidation did occur, though. An anonymous voter from just outside Dayton detailed how vote challengers required him to dress up as a character from television’s Little House on the Prairie—perhaps Nellie Perkins—and chucked apples at him for their own amusement. One black voter from Cleveland described a heavyset Republican vote challenger who wore his hair in a greasy pompadour—immensely intimidating.

I Must Repress My Memories Again
My usual hypno-regression therapist, Dakota, put me to the ultimate test, and scoured my brain to find deeply repressed memories. And what she found was the worst of all possible conclusions: For a short time, I was a member of the College Republicans.

Roughed Up by an Angel
Come to think of it, I’m not really sure what the angel wanted to impart to me. He didn’t say much. More of the “talks with his fists” type. But you can’t really make a point that way, not a coherent one anyway. He growled and ranted and muttered things here or there, but they mostly concerned some guy named Donnie and the money Donnie owes him.

Iraqi Politics Made Simple
Let’s look at a simple breakdown of Iraq’s political factions: Al-Dawaa, or the Islamic Call, one of the oldest America-hating parties, who also hated Saddam Hussein. Now he’s gone, so they’re back to hating America again.

Star Wars as You Know it No Longer Exists
The possibilities of this might confound you, as they easily confounded me, and occasionally still do when I approach the problem not expecting an ambush. I have a friend who is well-versed on time-travel and film history, and for the sake of this article let’s call him Steven Hawking.