Wow … just. Wow.

My apologies for nothing new as I had promised. I spent the weekend with a man that does NOT much care for the nutcases that love to harass me, so I was blissfully devoid of such occurrences. Of course, he left yesterday, so it was only a matter of time…

So. Here I am at the place to be, the Haus, with the kids.
We’re just out and about, enjoying a day, watching a movie… nothing unusual. That is, until I made the ever-distressing mistake of stepping outside for a cigarette. It usually turns out to be a poor choice on my part. My timing is always wrong, it seems.
Out I go, to be met with the lady that works the nail salon next door. We were discussing the Michael Jackson funeral, her hoping it was over and me fairly amused by some of the reports coming from my friends on Facebook of how deeply disturbed and saddened they are about all of this. So while talking about the people that have killed themselves in his name, a rather haggard woman approached me and asked for a cigarette. I obliged, because I was caught up in conversation and not really paying her much mind. Until she spoke.

“Hey! What was that you were talking about? Could you say that again? And can you light my cigarette? My hands are REALLY sweaty and I can’t touch it.”
(Can’t touch it, but you want to hold it and smoke it…?)
“Uh… I was just talking about some of the reports of fans killing themselves and such.”
“Well … did you see what they looked like?”
“… Uh, no. I didn’t.”
“Well, did you hear their voices?”
“Well, you need to see what they look like or hear their voices.”
“It was just a printed article. And the folks are kind of … dead…”
“Well, you see, it’s because I know what’s going on at those compounds in California.”
“Oh… right…”
“Yes, see, they hold people hostage. They’re breeding babies in petri dishes.”
“Ah … ok.”
“Yes. And see, babies from petri dishes are not humans. So they are holding hostages and they’re a cult. I’m a scientist, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“So as a scientist, imagine… when you’re fifty years old, what if someone approaches you and says you owe child support on this thing? Right?”
“Imagine. Fifty years old. Child support. You have to keep an eye on these people. Hear what they sound like, see them. I’m telling you.”
“They’re not humans.”
“As a scientist, Michael Jackson’s fans … you need to hear their voices. I bet.”
“Well. I should, uh.”
“Alright, just remember, if you hear them, THEY ARE BREEDING BABIES. In petri dishes. “
“… yeah.”

Not sure what to make of that, but there you have it. I have a feeling the crazy for today isn’t over just yet.


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