I am convinced of it. You go up in an airplane and look down and see a flat expanse. There is no curvature. The edges of course are very distant, and people are lazy, which is why no one has gotten to the four look over areas.

And the moon is made of cheese. Man never landed on the moon. It was all a contrivance. The astronauts who first stepped on the moon – they were hypnotized.

Kennedy, he wasn’t assassinated. He had some fake blood pellets that he smushed when gunshots went off. He was whisked off to a hospital and then taken elsewhere, I think to someplace in South America. Elvis joined him many years later. They are both content – both have said that being in the limelight was overly stressful.

Of course there are aliens. They drive cars and frequent supermarkets. They look like us, but they are from another galaxy, far, far, away. The only food they can eat here is ice cream. So undoubtedly, if you are behind someone in a checkout line and their shopping cart is full of ice cream, you can be sure that the individual checking out is an alien.

And, of course, yearly, thousands of individuals are hypnotized by aliens and then taken to where the aliens live. None have ever found their way back here. Those who are abducted have fond memories of eating ice cream.

This is what I believe to be true. There is more that I know to be true, but this is good for starters. It’s my starter conspiracy theory dispatch.

I often wonder if some people are more fearful about death than others. And I wonder if those, like me, who are lacking in faith are more fearful than those who are not.

I listen carefully to those who are skipping merrily along on a spiritual path. Some I know believe that my being damaged goods has to do with the fact that I am walking on the side of the path in the opposite direction of believers. I think I’d be this way anyways. By this way I mean curmudgeonly.

I have no use for small talk. The epicenter for small talk at the Palmer Pool is the hot tub. The water isn’t all that hot, so I am in and out of there in just a few minutes, that is unless someone says something really interesting. Then I either join in or sit quietly and listen.

I am happiest when no one is in the hot tub. Then I don’t even have to pretend to listen. I can just zone out and let the jet spray pummel my lower back.

I am now swimming laps, one lane at a time. I wish that I knew someone who could teach me – I’d like to be able to exhale and inhale at the right times. The occasional snoot full of chlorinated water is hard to deal with. And to which I then say, where are the lifeguards when I need them?

Next: 267. 10/1/24: All Things Accounted For