Good Morning Ted and Jody:
Nancy made it through 3/4ths of the class she was in before she an attack of vertigo. Fortunately, she had rescue meds with her and a place to lie down for a short time. She then high tailed it home and some bed rest. She drove into town in snow showers and drove home in them. She appeared to be ok for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I drove back into town for the Central Committee meeting. It snowed like a sun of a gun when I drove home after 8.
The Central Committee meeting was interesting. I understood a full 20% of what people said. This will improve when I get my second hearing aid back. However, I am clearly at a disadvantage when it comes to the wide range of frequencies and volumes that people use in speaking in public places. Then too, most venues are in acoustically “troubling” rooms. So, that will not improve much. From what I did understand, the notion that Congressional Races are too small to be of interest to the state party and too big to be of interest to the County party is valid. I will have to forge my own organization by sheer will power. It is a good thing I started early. I shall proceed with the other five counties by sending them campaign information and making myself available to speak to them. I will do the same with a whole slew of other organizations.
The pestilence’s weekend tweets have outraged Nancy. She is so outraged she is watching CNN rather than QVC when there is nothing else on. Unlike my charming and beautiful wife, I find it amusing that the media is attempting to deal with the pestilence in a rational manner. The pestilence is not rational. While I do not advocate stooping to his level, I do think digging a tunnel under him and letting it cave in from his weight is not a bad idea. If we have forgotten how, I am sure the sappers in the British Military will be happy to train us. What does disturb me is that there are people who actually think the pestilence is viable and sport his nonsense. In one of Terry Pratchett’s books, The Truth, one of the characters asserts that a lie can go around the world faster than the truth can get its boots on. Funny how life in the White House is imitating fiction. After I got home this evening I caught a segment of Anderson Cooper incredulous at the pestilence’s latest stupidity. I want to say, “Anderson, It was just last year you were explain to Carlie Fiorina about Trump’s availability. It was partly your hunger for putting something controversial on that gave the pestilence legitimacy and elected him.”
I’m not sure what season it is here or there. So, prepare for anything, stay well and happy.
Warmest regards, Ed
029 Special Agent Fleishman Asks Agents Amanda and Brice for Assistance
Fiction in 1094 words by T. Edward Westen, 2017
When Sally brought the paper files relating to Melissia Hickson into Vice President Foster’s office, he immediately passed them to Special Agent Fleishman and said to Sally, “Thank you. Now please put all we have in the system on a flash driver for Mr. Fleishman.”
“That’s not necessary,” Said Special Agent Fleishman. “If these are up to date, I can get what I need from these.”
“All of that,” said Vice President Foster pointing to the files, “will be in the system and a lot more.”
Smiling broadly, Special Agent Fleishman said, “Thank you and thank you from the family.”
Sally was back with a flash drive in three minutes and handed it to Special Agent Fleishman. The woman had questions showing in her eyes.
Special Agent Fleishman said, “Thank you,” to Sally, turned to Vice President Foster and said, “I’ll get the drive,” holding it up, “back to you.”
Vice President Foster said, “That is not necessary. It is our pleasure to help.”
Special Agent Fleishman said, “Thank you again. I know the way out.” He left Vice President Foster’s office with both Simmons Foster and Sally watching him. So, he shut the door behind him and disappeared.
Special Agent Fleishman appeared in the stairwell of the Hall of Justice in another city. He had noticed the address and apartment number Haphazard House has used for ten years to mail statements, checks and manuscript edits to Melissa Higgins was a few blocks from where he worked on the Byron Mellon case. ‘That was a funny case,’ he thought. ‘The guy was a judge for 30 years and then died here. But to assess what changes he may have made it the timeline was a real tangled web. So, he dies 30 years or more after his crime, we find and fix the changes he caused in the time line and then arrest him and he is alive and in prison today, well, err, 600 years in the future, as is his victim. It is indeed a funny world, but we got him before the fact and saved a life, a program and kept a score of lives in this century from getting messed up. Everyone Deserves a Future. I do love this job.’ He opened the door to the lobby where Child Protective Services were located and almost ran into a face from the past. “Good Morning Detective Philipson,” he said to a very confused detective and went into the Child Protective Services Office.
After he had shut the door behind him, Detective Philipson opened the door, looked at him, and said, “You look vaguely familiar, but who are you and where do I know you from.”
Special Agent Fleishman turned to the secretary and asked, “How many times has this guy been in the news and on TV, Millie?”
Millie raised an eyebrow and said, “Oodles. That could explain how you know the detective’s name; but it doesn’t explain how you know mine.” She looked Special Agent Fleishman up and down, frowned and then said, “Tall, dark and handsome, even white teeth with no fillings, I’d remember you.” She paused, cradled her chin in her left hand, tilted her head slightly to the right, squinted and said, “You’re with the other two, aren’t you?” With that statement, she got up and went to Edith Gunderson’s door, opened it and said “There is another one out here.”
A second or two later, Agent Amanda Clarkton stuck her head around the opened door and said “Special Agent Fleishman, we could use some help. Come on in.”
“Huh, I was about to ask you two for help,” he replied.
Millie held up both hands in surrender and said, “Just no more vanishing and reappearing today. My stomach can’t handle more alcohol today; and, if you go to vanishing like those in there, I will need more than one drink to steady my nerves.”
Detective Philipson looked very perplexed and said, “Vanishing and reappearing, drinking, what the hell is going on in there?” pointing to Edith Gunderson’ office.
Amanda laughed. “We get that all the time,” she said. “If you are a real detective, we can use your help in tracking down the child abductor. Come on in.” And, she beckoned with her index finger.
“Eddie!” said Edith Gunderson. “I see they roped you into this finally. I told them it would be easier to find that little girl and her mother if you and Mohamad knew what was happening.”
Detective Philipson frowned and asked, “This is about the woman and child I put the APB out on earlier; isn’t it?
Everyone in the room nodded, ‘yes.’
“So, what don’t I know?” Detective Philipson asked.
“Only one small detail,” said Agent Amanda. “She was abducted about 600 years from now in the 27th Century.”
“You are pulling my leg,” said Detective Philipson. He looked around and saw five heads shaking “no.”
“How is that possible?” Detective Philipson asked?
Millie brightened up, “Ms. Gunderson has a nice single malt in the filing cabinet. Want some now or do you want to wait till this hits you?”
“Single malt. What about a nice cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows?” asked Special Agent Fleishman.
“Hot chocolate with marshmallows is for every day soothing of stress and strain. Single malts deal with serious shocks and getting hit with changes in reality,” replied Millie. Get the glass and bottle out.”
Agent Brice asked Detective Philipson, “If you could go back to one event in history what would that event be?”
Detective Philipson did not hesitate, “February 25, 1964, the first Clay-Liston fight in Miami Beach”
“Who is Clay?” asked Agent Brice.
“Muhammad Ali before he changed his name,” Replied Detective Philipson.
With your consent, we can take you there right now,” said Agent Brice.
“Wait, let me out of here,” said a panicky Millie.” I can’t take any more disappearing into thin air and then popping back.” She ran out of the room and shut the door.
Special Agent Fleishman pointed to the intercom on Edith Gunderson’s desk and said, “You ought to turn that off for a few minutes.
Detective Philipson said, “What do you mean you will take me there?”
Agent Brice asked, “Do you want to go?”
“Well sure I do, but it . . ..” Agent Brice pivoting out with Detective Philipson interrupted what the Detective was saying in the room.
Edith Gunderson started to laugh.
“What is so funny?” asked Agent Amanda.
“That is one hell of a way to cut someone’s sentence off,” Edith Gunderson replied.