In the beginning, it was a dark and stormy night, so you can call me Ishmael. Or Al. Doesn’t matter.

Lemme tell you, as I start this post, it’s unpleasant in Atlanta, kids. The wind was pretty impressive this evening, as was, not coincidentally, the amount a certain tree near my apartment can bend without breaking and my sudden desire to purchase renter’s insurance. But not even 2 tons of wood accelerating at 9.8 m/s/s through my roommate’s bedroom would stop me from bringing you the week in conspiracy.

Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.

I don’t know what this is…but I like the idea…Space Nazis!:

That’s it for this week, folks. No conspiracy theory of the week. Oddly, nothing struck me as absurd enough. I hope that doesn’t mean that I am building up a tolerance. I’ve started working on a story about UFOs in the Renaissance. I may try to peddle it to, well, Ben Radford. We’ll see. Take it easy! Also, Eve, who has been a little AWOL lately, is working on something utterly hilarious. I hope that will be up soon.

RJB

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