I’ve waited hours for this
I’ve made myself so sick
I wish i’d stayed asleep today
I never thought that this day would end
I never thought that tonight could ever be
This close to me

You never know where a weblog post is going to go. It gets started, mangled, moved, removed, restored, stored and rewritten. This one followed that whole path. I am not going to talk about the application of the disparate knowledge in my head to my everyday working life. Or how that doesn’t work. No. I am going to talk about leaflets, and the trustafarians who hand them out. And have handed them to me, both in the past, and recently. Let us start with recent.

Outside New Scotland Yard, there is an enclave of hippies. One url on their leaflet was 9/11 truth. This leaflet was obtained by my fine self before reaching the Pigs’ headquarters, so I had time to read it, glance at it, summarise it before I hit their stall.

Just try to see in the dark
Just try to make it work
To feel the fear before you’re here
I make the shapes come much too close
I pull my eyes out
Hold my breath
And wait until i shake

So, the usual conspiracy stuff that has been doing the rounds for years now. Most of which is disprovable, and they are repeating what they have read on the intertubes. But regardless, how could anyone pass up the opportunity to test their kookiness? I couldn’t. At least for ten minutes before getting bored. I really should have brought Amahlia with me. I should do so tomorrow.

All very nice cleancut middle class boys. Earnest-looking CompSci grads, I would say. When one attempted to hand me another leaflet, I mentioned I had one, and if he minded me asking a few questions. Was he taken aback! Man, I made his day. Alas, there weren’t any raven-haired, alabaster-skinned, doe-eyed chicks for me to quiz. Shame, but I am aware of where they eyes are, I don’t need to be told that. Nice boots, though.

Yeah yeah, says me, all very well, I know all that stuff. But there is no mention of the instructions from המוסד למודיעין ולתפקידים מיוחדים‎ to make sure all Jewish types (‘cause they are all one hive mind, and in constant contact, dontchaknow) were out of the Twin Towers. Nor were they aware of the Pentagon plane stuff. So whomever is telling them their lies was doing an oddball selective job of it. I couldn’t understand why, and probing them was useless, they were mere vessels parroting some weirdo party line. To that end, it was no fun, really. They learned more than I did. Entertaining nutjobs always make my day, but they were dullards. Maybe there will be a better selection next time I pass.

But if i had your faith
Then i could make it safe and clean
If only i was sure
That my head on the door was a dream

But rewind a few years, more than that, but still to do with leaflets. However, in this case, I wasn’t given one, whereas others around me were getting them. this intrigued me. Did I look like I was avoiding taking one? It was a desk, or more precisely a wallpapering tressle table, you know, the flimsy ones you get in B&Q, with books, flyers and more on top. I like to take badges and stickers, but there didn’t seem to be any. Regardless, I wasn’t being given a leaflet, no matter how obtrusively I hung back fishing for one. Quelle bizarre! Usually these types are desperate to thrust their output down your throat. And into the next bin.

It was hard for me to make it more obvious, so there was only one course of action left to me, I would have to explicitly ask for some of their literature. What is the world coming to when the mentalists don’t want to engage?

I’ve waited hours for this
I’ve made myself so sick
I wish i’d stayed asleep today
I never thought that this day would end
I never thought that tonight could ever be
This close to me

Not good. To start with, they wouldn’t look me in the eye. At the point at which I got their attention, things started to go wrong. Very wrong. Firstly, there was the aggressive look in their eyes. Their eyes which where head and shoulders above mine. No. They said. You should move along, there is nothing for you here. Go. Hmm, whyso? What is wrong with me? Easy, they said, or rather, snarled. You are the problem. Really? Do your pamphlets say that? Can I see? Two more of their fellows sidled in from the crowds, in behind them, providing more than moral support. Four against me, that would never end well. These days I might take those odds, but not then. Actually, looking at them, remembering them, I wouldn’t even take those odds these days. I would be able to run faster away, though.

You ain’t our brother, you are the problem. Leave us now, leave. Go. Allah be merciful on you, as we won’t. Now I seem to be getting it. You think I am some cultural imperialist out to diss the brutha. You speak more and we will hurt you. It isn’t just us, it is our Moslem brothers everywhere. But can’t I be one? You presume an awful lot. السلام عليكم says me, and turns away. Hey! Jew-lover! We will own your country, you wait and see. Truth is on our side. Of course, I could sense this was all going ugly, so with my back turned they couldn’t see my eyes rolling.

The Nation of Islam welcomes careful drivers. But no honkeys who know one phrase of Arabic.

But if i had your face
I could make it safe and clean
If only i was sure
That my head on the door
Was a dream

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