"...Eh, I can explain"

Way back in 1974 while sweltering in my first un-air conditioned apartment. I gets this call from Timothy Leary. This when he was on the lam from da Feds. Google 'em.  Well he tells me about that bleeping giant UFO them spooks is sitting on out in Montana.

He gives me da coordinates the works.
Sez he want's me to give the low down to the Dali Lama.

Then I hears yelling, and breaking glass on da line,...bleep!

All that, and I has to get this saucer guy stuff to his frigging holiness in India fer craps sakes. I ain't been west of Chicago at the time. While I'm standing there a flaming pouch shaped like a birthday cake comes fly'n through the damned window. Aw Com'on!

Anyway I opens it, and there's a note from Holden Caulfield who everybody, and their indicted uncle thinks is fictional,...but ain't.

There's also a ticket to Geneva with a re-route to Somalia then another direct to New Deli. That plus a load 'a passports, and a big bunch of money!
Holden sez to contact some crooked Midwestern fixer named Clinton in Geneva.
Btw there's a gun in da bag too. Holden sez to shoot the "fixer" once business is done,...bleep! I ain't shoot'n shit.

I took the dough. 'Shit canned da gun, and them hot passports which if used probably would've got me stuck up against the first handy wall. I split the hell out'a there. Every phone booth I ran pass was ringing,...they had me spotted covered sighted, and bleeped up the tail pipe! ...and here I thought I was gonna get laid. Fuck politics!

*To be continued.