Warning – indigenous nudity ahead…It has come to my attention through years of patient study of the truths contained in the Bible, Wikipedia and Addison Wesley’s Design Patterns that there is a conspiracy swirling around me which must be addressed. It is a conspiracy that affects every member of the human race, particularly you, so I shall attempt to lay out the insidious nature and abundant convolutions forthrightly, delineating in a structured list the proof of what is afoot.
There is a conspiracy between our government and three alien groups: the counter aliens, the contra-aliens, and the hypna-aliens. These groups of aliens sometimes refer to themselves by their historical names from human mythology: demons, daemons, and djinn.
I find things in my recycling bin at work that are not mine and that should not be recycled.
There is a man in a very small, three-by-three foot room on the lower level, where I work, hooked into a wireless network via one gigabit subcutaneous mind links. He is constantly reviewing my code and introducing errors and inconsistencies. Sometimes these inconsistencies are designed to gage my reaction to stress and sometimes to solve the problems of his masters by tricking me into using my alien-adjusted mind to bring a different level of psychic focus to bear on their issues. At other times, the code he introduces are calls for help, as he himself is watched and errors are introduced into his work on me just as he introduces errors into my work. The frequency of his intrusion increased when he moved from a 100 megabit to 1 gigabit linkspeed connection. What good does it do my company, his masters in the government, and the counter-aliens (which is the branch of aliens leading this particular experiment) to expend so much money and effort to control me? It makes no sense whatsoever. Yet they do it nonetheless.
At other times, the coding errors are mysteriously corrected. This is the work of the “original” or “prime” aliens, although their mythological/historical name is the angels or valkyries, and is meant to inform me of the time of their arrival to herald my rebirth as their spiritual and military leader. At the appointed time they shall leave their hypercube within the earth, a space almost invisible, yet internally containing a complete battle fleet, exit via the North Pole, and fly to my side. Other hypercube bases exist throughout the solar system. One is on the moon, and another is on an undiscovered fifteenth planet the angels call “Eden”. This is the same Eden in the Bible from whence Adam and Eve were evicted by the ultimate fusion of counter, contra and hypna alien, the grandfather of all three races, Satan/Loki, who had corrupted that hypercube with asynchronous mental orchestrations of extraordinary deviousness in order to work his plan to bring about the downfall of the angels and the enslavement of humankind. The story of the snake and the apple is an allegory for the infusion of alien DNA into Eve via Satan/Loki’s squidlike mating arm. This is the same DNA of which I am a direct inheritor – a Scion of human/angelic/alien fusion. This is information known to the Catholic Church, though they withhold the knowledge from the laity, coding it within the Bible in order to pass the story from priest to priest. The number of angels living in all these hypercube bases is 333,333,333,333, or 111,111,111,111 in each hypercube base. Yet within their hypercubes they truly fit on the head of a pin. The number of counter, contra and hypna aliens is 222,222,222,222 of each race, or 666,666,666,666. The number of failed alien cloning attempts of me in order to reharvest the original human/angelic/alien fused DNA strain before the angels leave their hypercubes and seek my leadership will be 143,999. This proves that I alone am the tribes of Israel and the resurrection and rapture of me is what will save humankind.
The water bottle on my desk always has a little less water in it when I come back to work after the weekend. Someone is drinking it.
As stated previously, there are attempts to clone me underway. The hypna-aliens harvest the hair and skin cells from my keyboard to clone me and track me. They intend to create another hypna/contra/counter-alien/me clone using their DNA altering techniques, but have failed to apprehend that I allowed them to do this to me before I was born, while still in the womb, and that any other copies of me are instantly and quantumly aware of this and refuse to allow it to happen again because it is not part of the plan.
The government and the hypna/counter/contra-aliens have created the web to distract me and waste my time – to keep me from more important things such as fully understanding my destiny. I blog to convince them this is working.
My wife, who denies me the constant sex necessary to build chakratic energy sufficient to break through the hypna/contra/counter-alien orchestrations and correlations loosely binding the valkyric/angelic hypercubes, is part of the alien plan. She records the results of this deprivation experiment and other alien/government experiments on her “blog” for my humiliation and as yet another record of the alien/government program. I suspect her to be most closely aligned with the hypna aliens, who long ago manipulated my DNA, before my birth, to give me a predilection for those likely to dye their hair red, which is a sign of hypna-alien hybridization.
Sometimes only one side of my headphones works and my yellow highlighter is replaced with a green highlighter. Outlook shows me appointments I never agreed to attend and there is evidence of an inhuman impression in my cube chair frequently preceding these events.
There are fingerprints on my Sarah Silverman postcard, and I can not verify they are mine.
My daughter may not actually be my offspring, but the fusion of hypna-alien and human DNA, like my wife. My daughter’s similarity in appearance to me proves the hypna-aliens infused with me with some of their DNA long ago to get me to marry my wife by building a preference for their kind into my genes before I was born. However, this same DNA, magnitudily reinforcing the original Eve-Satan/Loki strains of the alien DNA I have inherited, makes me the one individual capable of understanding the aliens and their goals, the one individual capable of defeating them, and the natural leader for the angels. Normal spatiality for me, because of the magnitudily-reinforced DNA strains, is perceived as a series of hypershapes, allowing me to understand the bindings the counter/contra/hypna-aliens have placed on the angels hypercube bases and to formulate intrusions and backdoors to those bindings which will allow me to dispel them upon achieving a sufficient reserve of chakratic energy coupled with an enlightened mental state.
The hypna/counter/contra aliens and the government stage elaborate plays to confuse me. For example, the other day, two of their agents discussed Videodrome versus The Running Man on the elevator, dropping hints about mind control in the corporate setting that were designed to test the level of functionality within which I am operating, given the level of influence and interference to which they currently have me subjected.
The government, and therefore the hypna/contra/counter-aliens, track me and report on me using Microsoft Reporting Services and Microsoft Biztalk Server, the later to ensure report delivery and availability using complex compensations. They find this safety and redundancy of systems imperative in case the angels attack and the fallout and interference from terra-watt space lasers temporarily renders their web services unavailable.
They are forcing me to consider living at home with my mother as their intrusion into all aspects of my life is shattering my relationships. They are worried I am the messiah, and I am, and that the rapture that comes with my true awakening and the subsequent return of King Arthur in that time of need to act as my sword against their bindings, will endanger their corrupt alien/alien-slave administration.
Several remote locators advertise within the back of my Harper’s magazine. This is to mock me and to let me know that the hypna/counter/contra-aliens are watching me. Also, that they are searching for the hypercubes, to bind them with invidious correlation sets before they can disgorge their angelic soldiers. The advertisements are obviously targeted at me, even though it is wasted on the thousands of other readers who cannot understand its meaning.
The free milk, coffee and fruit at work are for the benefit of no one but me. Others only pretend to eat their food. Its intent is to fill me with chemicals to control my mind and further alter my DNA. The hypna/contra/counter-aliens have the nerve to introduce these chemicals right in front of me, as with the coffee machine the other day, just to see if I will react. If I react, they will try to harm me, for I will have admitted I am aware of their plans before they feel they are ready to stop me. The coffee shop within my building is also a part of this plan, but compounds the process by adding addictive chemicals to their coffee.
The counter/contra/hypna-aliens and their human slaves have caused me no end of concern by stealing my copyrighted name for other uses, in violation of internationally sanctioned laws against such use. They have contrived to deny me access to the World Court to obtain satisfaction. The breadth of this illegality is evident in such infringements as Scott Adams, Orson Scott Card, Ridley Scott, F. Scott Fitzgerald, the other Scott in my workgroup, Scott Township (Minnesota), Scott Island (Canada), Dred Scott, Francis Scott Key, Ben Scott Folds, the U.S.S. Scott, and Scotland. I have filed a patent, and it is pending, and countered with numerous lawsuits against said perpetrators, including the U.S. Navy, Ben Folds Five, Canada and the King of Scotland I have also filed a petition to remit all proceeds from the National Anthem and the song Superman (It’s Not Easy) for my personal use.
Klund knew about the conspiracy against me and attempted to warn me of the dangers of working where I was constantly under surveillance by the hypna/contra/counter-aliens, the U.S. government, and the man in the little room, but was exiled to St. Peter in an attempt to suppress his knowledge.
Mr. Mustard also knew about the conspiracy, but was replaced during a promotion by a counter-alien that mimics him in almost every way, yet cannot always contain the genetic rage that consumes that race. I originally thought that he had been replaced by the counter/contra/hypna alien fusion known to us as Loki/Satan, but it is now obvious that he is but a foot soldier in that army.
Less sunlight is reaching the earth. This is proof that the binding correlations of the hypna/contra/counter-aliens are being strengthened in anticipation of my self-actualization, Arthur/Christ’s resurrection in the time of need, and the upcoming battle between the valkyries/angels and the counter/contra/hypna-aliens and their human and human/alien hybrid slaves, in the battle that will be known as Armageddon or Ragnarok.
Sometimes I cannot find my car in the parking lot at work. This is not because I forget where it is, but because my work, the government, and the hypna/contra/counter-aliens take turns moving it. I believe they sometimes use it to run errands and procure Chipotle burrito boxes for their meetings reviewing my mental state, the progress of the binding correlations and accompanying invidious orchestrations, and the completion status of their conspiracy against me and the rest of humanity, which depends on my well being and self actualization.
This has been a creative review of
Kooks by Donna Kossy (pub. Feral House).
I used the dolls to craft a snarky response to Kyle, who accused me of waiting anxiously for In Her Shoes (it's an MST3K thing). Kyle, in turn, meandered around wishingfish.com until he found something more disturbing: Winston the Gnome. This is Winston - and I'm sure that's supposed to be a pipe in his hand...otherwise some other gnome is in a world of hurt, or is about to be pleasured. Maybe it was a gag gift from Winston's bachelor party - like the Mr. Peter ice cube maker Kyle bought once that we used to torture a certain Microsoft technologies writer. Winston sings too, as long as you fill him up with your words. 
