- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1347
He's waiting for me in front of the cafe, his coffee resting on the hood of his car.
There's been a chinook, it's warm outside, the clouds have been blown ragged by the westerly winds. He's shielding his eyes from the sun and looking into the sky.
"They're spraying again...." he begins.
I look up into the sky, the contrails, like the clouds, have been blown ragged by the chinook winds.
"Chemtrails" he offers by way of explanation, but I didn't need one. "They're spraying. Look at it. Barium, Aluminum, microscopic bits of plastic, dessicated red blood cells...".
I don't want to encourage him, but the plastic, the red blood cells, that's got me curious....
"Shall we have a cigarette?" He's got my coffee already and we go around the side of the cafe to smoke.
He's looking at the sky. Shielding his eyes, explaining to me how you can tell a chemtrail from a contrail. I try to draw the line, the perfect balance between a polite level of interest and changing the topic...
An older couple approach, they want to tie their dog to the trash where we're smoking, we stand back, he points to the sky, they turn to look...
"They're spraying again. Chemtrails. Poisonous chemicals. Barium, Aluminum. Plastic. Dessicated red blood cells...."
They look back at him, quizically.
"It's all online. They're trying to poison us. Weaken our immune system. It's part of a trillion dollar top secret military project based out of Dayton, Ohio."
The woman interrupts. "You're joking, aren't you?"
I'm standing back, beside him, trying to signal her with my eyes, my face, don't want to give anything away, hoping he doesn't see....
Her partner sees my face and touches her on the elbow.
"You can look it up online. You should know this stuff. Don't get the H1N1 vaccine. They're trying to kill us. Part of the plan, kill all the people, then make a one world government."
Her companion has caught my eye, squeezes her elbow, she catches my eye, I'm limited in what I can do here, don't want to be too obvious, don't want him to see, so while he explains I stand to the side smiling and rolling my eyes like a madman. She thanks him for the information, he gives her his card with some websites listed on it. They leave their dog, perhaps a bit reluctantly, with us, then go inside for their coffee.
He explains to me when they've gone inside.
"Maybe they think I'm crazy....."
I understand.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1290
He's got this idea that if he can just meditate enough he'll become a being of pure spirit and light.
And he's telling me about it, he's a little discouraged that it hasn't happened yet but probably it just needs more practice....
"I'll go to Ottawa and sit in on Parliament... and they'll say to me 'You shouldn't be here'...and I'll just sit there..."
He pauses for dramatic effect.
"They'll tell me to leave, and I won't, then they'll try to move me and their hands will go right through..."
He mimes the security guards grabbing at empty air....
"and I'll tell them to leave and they won't know what to do...then ppphhhhwwweeewww"
He makes an expansive gesture with his hands and smiles, blows with his mouth as if he's the wind, then leans back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.
I change the topic.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1329
He was on this kick for a while, watching all the Criss Angel specials on TV and recounting the many miracles therein to me as if they'd really transpired.
Now I'm a bit of an amateur magician myself, the keyword is amateur. About the only trick I've mastered with any proficiency is the vanishing of money, which nobody has yet paid to see me do. But from that perspective I tend to be a little skeptical of paranormal claims - "Extraordinary Claims demand Extraordinary Evidence".
He's not so skeptical.
I bought him a book on Criss Angel, an autobiography, it was appalling drivel, but key in it was Criss Angel's personal refutation of paranormal means to achieve his ends. Most magicians are like that, think of Houdini, Derren Brown, Penn and Teller. They deny that miracles occur because they are their stock in trade, they work behind the scenes and know how they're done, can do similar, and so themselves are great skeptics.
And for a time he doesn't bring Criss up anymore. Maybe 6 months. He's disappointed in him, his denial that he's the new Messiah.
But there was a new special on TV last night where Criss levitated and vanished and he has to tell me about it...
I'm impressed, I haven't seen it but I'm sure he's very good....
I'm not getting it.
"Wouldn't it be good if we could all levitate and turn invisible?"
"It would be good, but he is a magician you know, I think it's just a trick...." I tell him
Now he looks skeptical.
"Maybe. Or maybe he just wants us to believe it's a trick. He could be fooling us..."
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1270
They've been breaking into his house again, he's not sure who, g-men, the illuminati. But he can tell because he went to take some vitamins this morning and he was completely out, and the last time he went to take vitamins there were some left. And there was a layer of dust on his toilet seat. Conclusive proof that people have been in the house while he's been away.
So he went down to one of those electronics shops that specializes in surveillance equipment. You know the ones, pinhole cameras concealed in walls, bedside clocks, teddy bears. Catch your wife sleeping around on you, catch your employees stealing from you, steal company secrets, night cameras, hidden microphones, you get the idea. And he was talking with the owner, a bright guy, he knew all the theories, about the birth certificates being traded on the stock exchange, about the new world order and the one world government. What are the chances that the owner of a surveillance shop would be paranoid as well? Bright guy. And apparently he's really, really busy, he could use a hand, my friend put in a word for me, the money's good...
Now this might be an opportunity....I've always been a recreational pervert, but the thought of making it a profession, well...there's an idea....
Anyways, he's quite enchanted at having discovered someone else on his page. It's validation.
The crazy girl from last time is at the coffee house too, only she's not so friendly this time, probably thinks we're crazy so we wave and say hi, then continue the conversation.
Apparently this guy, the surveillance guy, he's a black belt and a ninja.
"How do you know this?" I ask...
"He told me."
"Um. Ninjas don't tell you their ninjas" I tell him. "It's like black belts. They don't usually tell you they've got a black belt unless they're running a school or trying to get a date. Or like spies. If someone tells you they're a spy they're probably not a real spy..."
He hadn't actually looked at it this way...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1753
Time for our weekly coffee, I've been remiss, busy with projects and other distractions, it's time to catch up.
He comes in to the cafe, there's a single girl, young, early 20's at a table near to us, working on her computer. And on his way to pick up his coffee he stops to chat with her, she's on a Vista Machine, that's a fortunate coincidence as the government has been covertly infecting his PC with viruses and he needs a VISTA disc to reinstall his OS....maybe she has one?
She's pleasant, she nods, she does have her disc, does she mind running home so he can borrow it? No? Great....She's going to go in just a few minutes...
Now this is crazy. Walking into a cafe and asking a complete stranger if they have a spare OS kicking around that you can borrow. But maybe he's met his match.
She looks like a treeplanter. Fluorescent fake fur boots, torn coat, matted blond dreadlocks. We go outside for a cigarette, she comes along. She's sort of pretty in a youthful way, hard to tell, she's wearing layers of army clothes...and she keeps leaning over to spit, there's a puddle of saliva at her feet, not the forceful, manly sort of expectorate, but more like big gobs dribbled out by someone chewing tobacco. It's not attractive. He asks her about it, why she's spitting all the time, she says "It's my style...".
Now maybe there should be some flags, some clues that things aren't what they should be. When we go back in she disappears into the washroom, he's mentions her spitting, he thinks she's crazy....
Probably she is, but it's really not his place to be throwing stones...
He asks her again for the disc, she tells him in a while, she's waiting for a friend...
Now she's not waiting for a friend. Maybe she doesn't have the disc, maybe she thinks he's crazy, but she's not going to go get it for him. She's stalling, looking over at me and smiling, it's uncomfortable this, being in the middle of Crazy VS Crazy....
He offers her a ride, but she says she lives just around the corner, she's going to go in a few minutes...
We go out for another cigarette, our coffee, our conversation is done, I'm just hanging out now to see how this pans out, Crazy VS Crazy. She comes out and joins us, a pretty smile, perfect teeth stained with tea and tobacco, pieces of popcorn and cookie stuck all along the gums.
It's pretty fucked up. And still he wants his OS, and she's gonna go and get it, how long will we be here? And I gotta leave, it's nuts this, he's going to wait, she packs up her PC and leaves and anyone could tell that Crazy's won, but he's going to wait just to be sure. But when she's left and he's waiting he tells me, he doesn't know what's the matter with her, but he thinks she's crazy....