For all we know, the book store never actually existed and the segment failed to run. It’s spooks who not only ran the independent bookstore, they’re also responsible for releasing it onto The YouTube fifteen years later. If you’re still hung up on the fact that I invented a scenario whereas an old fuddy-duddy recorded the channel 9 evening news in 2002 right after the latest episode of Jeopardy, then you’re failing to recognize the reality of the ongoing psyop. And worse, he was pimped out by his father. They only care to invest in their own projects, and Jim Morrison was a child of Langley. In fact, we have every reason to expect them to haul out Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain and David Bowie and Michael Jackson and every other fake celebrity death. ![]() Need I remind you that this is precisely what the CIA would do. Sure, Fred Todd and the channel 9 evening news entire segment is only a figment of my imagination, but hang with me here, because there’s a point to this. We further learn that he’s obsessed with singing songs from The Doors and, come to think of it, they’re the only songs he knows. He delivers the line like a spiritual shaman. We hear a lyric or two from Fred Todd’s work. He’s been coming in to poetry reading night every Wednesday for ten years, never missing a beat, and everyone who works in the book store knows it. But as the story unfolds, we hear the store owner talk about Fred Todd’s obsession with poetry. It’s only about the popularity of poetry reading night at Fact and Fiction, an independent bookstore only a block or two from the University. Understand, the segment isn’t about Jim Morrison Fred Todd. Only he goes now by two first names, Fred Todd or Cory Roger-or if the CIA was feeling especially frisky, Morris Jim. Come to think of it, everything about him screams The Doors leading man Jim Morrison. ![]() It devotes an entire minute to detailing some old fat man who looks exactly like Santa Claus. The segment I’m imagining is pulled from a surviving VHS recording during the sleepy hours of 2002, when post September 11 propaganda went into hyper overdrive and our Slave Masters needed the cognitive dissonance to really dig in. One of these days, I half expect to receive a link to some clip from the channel 9 evening news in Ann Arbor or Albuquerque or some obscure college town. I decided to take that rabbit hole, which brings us up to our present whereabouts. ![]() That’s about when my friend Shawn sent me an ominous message which simply read: BOB JOYCE. It may have been thundering too, and I seem to recall two alligators fighting over an insignificant island of water lilies and long grass. For example, I was sitting here staring at the swamp water outside my window, just minding my own business, probably sipping on coffee. Had they not, I suppose articles like this would not be possible. READERS SEND me bizarre researching tips all the time.
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