Middle of the afternoon. In my disguise as doom profit outside Smithsonian metro stop. The End is Nigh. Got a few donations. Got some ridicule. The best answer to insults is silence.
Sitting now, across from National Gallery of Art, writing, also reading New Frontiersmen. They re-ran my journal from 1985/1986. Feel vindicated. Where is your utopia now? Not sure when shipment of Michelangelos arriving. Keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Trouble is, everyone in DC is suspicious. Someone threw half full cup at me. Tripped him as he walked by. Moved on. Hungry. Not eaten since breakfast yesterday. Have enough money to buy food from vendor.
Man in crisp suit walks passed. Gave me scornful eye as I ate. He doesn't like my grungy clothes. He wrinkles nose before trotting across street to museum. I follow.
Guards made me check my sign. Begrudgingly, I do. Followed man discreetly through the halls of so called art. He seemed distraught at arriving to cordoned off area of the Michelangelos. He left museum. I make note. Blond man, average height, new suit, diamond ring.
For now, Rorschach
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"Keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Trouble is, everyone in DC is suspicious."
ReplyDeleteThe place is crawling with politicians - 'nuff said.
"They re-ran my journal from 1985/1986. Feel vindicated. Where is your utopia now?"
Congratulations! If only I could manage that kind of success. Bush and his cabal would be in jail for life right now. And better yet, their mountains of money would be siphoned off to help their many victims.
Never compromise!
Welsh Dragon
Well, even I, a sort of Objectivist, have to agree with you there. I wish Bush had been a stronger person. With more back bone than attitude. Like Truman. My father worked for Truman, you know.
ReplyDeleteFor now, Rorschach