Guppies and Angelfish

The Committee asked me to get inside the thought sets of the authorities pursuing/executing the extradition of Julian Assange.

Now that we've revealed some of the tools we use, including quantum disembowelment, a few of the Committee members want to demonstrate how to locate the living relatives of those they want to control simply by probing their thought sets.

Then, when the time is right, or even when it's not, let loose a few schizophrenic thought threads into the families and immediately turn on the spotlights connected to HD webcams that are secretly following those families in their public and private lives, both on the ground and in the air (using drones flying in silent mode, stealth zeppelins and microsatellites disguised as space junk).

Obviously, you can see the Committee members are bored, having just finished their semiannual viewing of "Flash Gordon," especially the scenes where Emperor Ming toys with planets like yo-yos, not only to entertain themselves but to instruct the 0.5 member of the Committee of 7.5.

While I put my network to work on netting in so-called authorities, I am polishing the Rosetta stone of presentations that I am to give to the Subcommittee on the Advancement of Aging.

My topic for this evening's debate: Pantaloon in the Seven Ages of Man.

With this being International Women's Month, the Committee wants the Subcommittee to observe the effects of this month on the other 11 months that must be, by inference, either Domestic Women's 11/12ths Year or One Short of a Dozen Good International Men.

What better way to scientifically categorise this month than to put pantaloons on the street and record the reactions to their behaviour in this, another of a series of so-called enlightened years?

One will stuff one's face with Turkish Delights like an angelfish let loose in an aquarium full of guppies will have a few tails sticking out of its mouth after its stomach is giddily, gluttonously jam-packed with guppies.

A friend asked me why Marion Cotillard is in charge of Australia, her being French and not all that keen on politics Down Under.  I responded that the Inuit may have a thousand different words for snow but it'll do them no good when the surf's up in the Arctic Ocean and Russians are hanging ten in competition with Hawaiian megawave riders.

Okay, class, turn to page 11,943,644 of the epic poem known as the Upanishads and repeat after me, "Mesmerism messes misters' mistresses' mattresses matted meticulously, meridian matters midlatitude, mosses miss myth musters."