1998-06-20 - Reptilians In Black - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!

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From: Linda Reed–PCC West Campus CSC <lreed@west.cscwc.pima.edu>
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Message Hash: fcabcdadaaf33ad4c7344d667868f68792a362d38e0c60112d6fc33a0128acce
Message ID: <009C7FCD.50DF5860.3@west.cscwc.pima.edu>
Reply To: N/A
UTC Datetime: 1998-06-20 19:11:59 UTC
Raw Date: Sat, 20 Jun 1998 12:11:59 -0700 (PDT)

Raw message

From: Linda Reed--PCC West Campus CSC <lreed@west.cscwc.pima.edu>
Date: Sat, 20 Jun 1998 12:11:59 -0700 (PDT)
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: Reptilians In Black - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
Message-ID: <009C7FCD.50DF5860.3@west.cscwc.pima.edu>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain


RIP - SPACE ALIENS HIDE M DRUGS!!!
___________________________________


  The ReptiliansInBlack and the MenInTheShadows were arguing
vehemently over the best path to take in order to maintain
effective damage control over the increasingly wide-spread
danger posed by the known and unknown actions of the Author. 
Regardless, in the end, they all had to answer to Gomez...

  In the days preceeding the Terry Nichols verdict, they had
managed to divert the Author's attention by murdering his 
aunt in Nevada, Missouri, forcing him to abandon Denver in
the middle of the night to drive to her funeral.
  They had managed to find and destroy the TRIN VirtualNuclear
Diskette Bombs the Author had left at various federal government
buildings in the previous few days, but their agent in Cape
Girardo indicated that the Author also claimed to have planted
the TRIN VNDB's among members of the Nichols jury. Was this
another one of the Author's disinformation tactics, or was
their own double agent at Bureau42 actually a triple agent,
helping to obscure the Author's trail of FUD after his having
lost the Watchers in both Denver and Nevada?
  When the RIP's and the MIS's were notified by Captain Button's
former superiors that the Author had been discovered roaming his
old haunts in Tucson, the BlackBaggers who inventoried his truck
found postcards purchased in Branson, Oklahoma City and Waco. Not
a good sign...


  When the Author posted the 'SweatHog Log' of the SAHMD
manuscripts from Linda Lou Reeds Pima College account, it
was taken as a sign that HeOrShe was once again ready to
jump to another location, and was again challenging the
Watchers to track him. After he led them directly to his
current SafeHouse in Tucson, however, it became clear that
he was once again taunting them by revealing another clue
in the ongoing battle to discover the true extent and/or
existence of the alleged underground computer society known
as the Circle of Eunuchs.
  It wasn't until they met in Tucson with the US Air Force
intelligence officer from Bienfait that the ReptiliansInBlack
and the MenInTheShadows realized the horrendous implications
of the 'clue' that the Author was rubbing their noses in...

  "Bob and Polly McWilliams, sons named Trevor and Rory."
the Flying Spook told those gathered around the conference
table at the back of the Blue Saguaro. "They're friends of
Mark, the owner." he said, causing great consternation among
the various spooks participating in the dinner and drinks
TruthMonger Rap Session taking place--apparently in the
heart of enemy territory.
  As if on cue, the owner approached their table, to inquire
as to the suitability of the food, drinks and service.Y\j
owner, nonchalantly, adding, "I haven't seen you since the
Club Car...are you bugging our conversation?"

  The owner of the Blue Saguaro laughed and winked slyly,
replying, "Not tonight. There's no band, so it's the sound
man's night off..."
  The assorted crew of Casper's Cousins, as they liked to
think of themselves, each began replaying in his or her own
mind the contents of their preceeding conversations, much to
the amusement of Mark and his old pal, the Flying Spook.
  "Tomorrow's edition..." the Flying Spook told his compatriots,
handing each of them a computer printout of the Bienfait Nutly
News. "I'm the new editor-in-chief." He turned and walked away
with the owner, talking over old times...







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