Hmm...
This morning, I looked out my door. No terrorists there, so I walked down to my neighbors' house. Seems he has a "good crop" of tomatoes and gave me some nice ones. I'm waiting for the DHS toxicology and explosive report before I slice one up and place it atop my cheese sandwich.
I walked a few houses down and saw my other neighbor, who is pretty pissed at me because I have yet to cut up the rest of the big tree that fell in his yard a few weeks back. I jotted his description down just in case there is some "blowback" for that.
Puzzled about where exactly the terrorists are residing in my neighborhood, I shut my eyes and took a stroll down memory lane, way back to my city days. Back to the time when I shared in the culture of poverty driven desperation. "Maybe that crew that stomped the piss out of me for trying to push them off my mom's stoop were part of this new threat," I thought to myself. "But wait, the `war on drugs' has been pretty much abandoned by the feds, so it couldn't be that.
Scratching my head, I walked down to the banks of the great Unami Creek. Maybe some fishing would help me figure out where those "evil ones" are shacked up.
As I dipped my jig in, (you have got to try this lure!)I saw another neighbor who lives down the road. He, I am not a big fan of. He's one of those country bigots who never spent more than ten minutes in his life with anyone two shades darker than in Italian (like me) on a sunny August day. Yet, it seems to him that these folks are the "problem with" any-friggin'-thing that one could muster.
Nice guy that I am, I chose to engage in the small talk. It seems that he's all for thwarting the supposed "homegrown" conspiracy. I considered asking who the suspects were in his opinion, but then stopped short. After all, I'm probably on his list.
You do realize, friends, that there is going to be a list, right? Not to mention any names, but, I think that history could cough up a plethora of similar lists.
Just before he could steer the conversation towards those pesky black folks, I feigned getting a hit and wandered around to the other side of the rock I was leaning against.
Barring that I chop off my arm cutting up the rest of that tree, I'll be sure to ink down a full report for Mr. Gonzales. . . just in case.
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