When I first met Ms. Capulet, who assumed the surname of Shakespeare’s famous star-crossed lover as means of concealing her identity, I must admit I was taken aback. For all I’d heard of her, I was expecting to spend the afternoon with a monster. And yet the slight, blond-haired, soft-spoken woman I met was anything but fiendish – even offering me a spot of Earl Grey tea upon my arrival.
While her appearance did not sync up with my preconceived conjuring – so far from a bestiality proponent did she come across – one glance at the decor that adorned the walls of her foyer reconfirmed her peculiar passion and kept me uneasy for the duration of our talk. It should be said, however, that, given some of the pictures I’d come across on the Internet while researching this article, Ms. Capulet’s collection was tame by comparison – achieving an air that can only be described as gracefully conservative canine eroticism.
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Hello boys and girls. That’s right, I’m back. So, a great deal has happened in the world since last we spoke. Where to begin? Where to begin?
Well, I suppose I’d be remiss not to mention something about the hurricane, right? I happened to see a Twilight Zone episode right around “landfallâ€, which is now our fun new buzzy catchy vocabulary word. The gift of a natural disaster. It drips proactive synergy.
Anyway, in this Twilight Zone there’s the threat, as there often is in the Twilight Zone, of nuclear war. The episode shows the effects of that threat in a particular suburban neighborhood. One man in this neighborhood has a bomb shelter. The other men don’t. Yet the other men love their families, want to protect them, want to live through the impending disaster. Why should the one man who has properly prepared for this moment be the only one to survive it? (I believe there is a similar episode of The Simpsons. Think Ned Flanders in the role of the man with the shelter)
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The New York Post, which is pretty much the worst newspaper in the world, recently “broke†a story about Osama bin Laden’s plot to negotiate “ten’s of millions of dollars in coke purchases†from a Columbian drug cartel. The story (and I’m referring to it as a story for a reason) included his plan to then lace the cocaine he acquired with poison and distribute it to unsuspecting coke-heads in America. And while the DEA has already publicly denied the investigation the Post reports they’re in the midst of, let’s, for a moment, pretend they got the story right.
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