Pale men in black suits with big ass red eyes have been trailing me through the desert since I touched down.
By “touched down” I mean paid off the border guard in Syria. Initially I tried to take a boat from Cyprus to Iraq, but I wouldn’t recommend this route as it turns out Iraq is not located on the coast of the Mediterranean.
The men in the black suits are of course either the men in black referenced in John Keel’s seminal work, or Halburton contractors monitoring my skills for potential recruitment. I lean towards the latter, but I am sort of curious as to why a major corporation only puts sick albinos on security. It’s really a sad day in America when not even special ops for corporate imperialism is merit based.
In other news, haven’t felt a woman’s touch in several years, but apparently my sleeping bag is a wonderful mating ground for other species:
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Fortunately the bites numbed the bison attack injuries.
“The Filmmakers” claim they received an anonymous tip about a cache of beta video cassettes with the same digital artifacts as the glitches in the primary hard drive footage, albeit with footage that is part of a completely unrelated story. All I have is GPS coordinates and a brief description of an abandoned palace. Justin says there’s no room in the budget for armored vehicle rental, but claims my $20.00 per diem will allow me to live like a prince.
Turns out they use a different currency here but there was no way he could have known that.
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Appreciates neither liberation nor $20.00