Tuesday, September 12, 2006

They're Out To Get Me

My bedroom window.

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As I was blogging the other day, a golf ball crashed through my window. Close call. This has happened several times since I moved to this apartment. I would certainly like to meet the person who is silly enough to design a golf course with a tee box in a direct line with an apartment window. There was a time when I might have suspected a conspiracy.

My conspiracy theories started when JFK was assasinated. I know there was a shooter on that grassy knoll. I'm still not sure the CIA didn't have him killed. And, Bobby. And Martin. Or, maybe it was Hoover and the FBI. He was on his way down the road to Crazytown at about that time, wasn't he?

In the 60s I embraced the "Don't Trust Anyone Over Thirty" slogan. Then, Watergate came along, and there actually WAS a conspiracy by the Nixon administration, complete with dirty tricks. I was in heaven. Now, of course, the slogan goes, "Never trust anyone under sixty."

And, Mark Felt as Deep Throat? Don't make me laugh. What a letdown. Until she died, I was sure Deep Throat was Martha Mitchell, wife of John Mitchell who was the head of CREEP, but after she died, Woodstein didn't rat her out, so I decided it was Henry Kissinger. My theories sometimes take a wrong turn. But Mark Felt?? I don't think so.

I have to admit, I never subscribed to the theory that the Gubmint made it all up, about the moon landing. I don't care if they did steal some of their technology from "2001: A Space Odyssey."

Now that Pierre Salinger is dead, I may be the only person left who believes that it was a Navy missile that blew up TWA flight #800. TWA isn't around any more, either. I rest my case.

I'm pretty sure there is a conspiracy among the TV networks that involves moving my shows around, sometimes weekly, so I never know where they are. They don't want me to know if my show is a rerun, either, so they have convinced the newspapers to leave off the "(R)" in their TV Guide sections.

Conspiracies don't have to have national consequences. They're all around us. For instance, I'm sure all the grocery stores in Harrison have conspired to fill their shelves with the same products. And, when one doesn't carry a particular product, none of them carries it. I believe I have hinted at this recently.

I can almost prove that the entire Biology Department at the University of Arkansas conspired to keep me from passing, all three times.

My doctor works with the local pharmacy to make sure I keep regular appointments, by having them put nasty little messages on my prescriptions - "Dr. would like for you to come in before your next prescription is due." Conspiracy!

The biggest conspiracy of all, though, is the one perpetrated against me by the State of Missosuri Lottery Commission. They even have enough muscle to ensure that I'll never win the PowerBall, either. Oh, every now and then, I win a ticket, and sometimes up to $1.00 on their scratch-offs. But, Betty won't win the big prize. It's a lock.

Probably, I'd better close now. I'm sure they're reading my e-mail and my blogs.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your window looks quite similar to the one in my living room I shot out when shooting my BB gun at a "tree rat". Your window just has a larger hole. For me it was somewhat of a learning experience however.

"Open window...then shoot BB gun at squirrel."

I too would question the golf course design abilities of someone who would do such a thing. :)

Newt said...

Oh great, now i have to put my tin foil hat BACK on! And I did smell the faintest whiff of cat pee when I got home yesterday. And I don't think my house was THAT messy when we left in the morning. I think you are right. Every thing is a conspiracy!

Joy Des Jardins said...

Conspiracies....yep, they're everywhere. Your list definitely made me think...I know there's been a conspiracy between the candy manufacturers and Sara Lee to thwart every diet I've attempted...and it's been going on for years.

As for the hole in your window...good lord Betty...I hope that doesn't happen too often. Your bedroom...cripes...that's not even funny. I guess you won't be taking too many naps in there during the day, huh?

Mari Meehan said...

You need an enforcer to protect you from conspiricies and gold balls.

Snifter, our first St. Bernard, did duty when we lived in a first floor golf course apartment. Eighth tee I believe. We may still have a box of balls that thumped off him as he lounged in our little yard area. Strange how many opted not to retrieve them.

willi said...

I buy into that golf conspirancy theory. Probalby that is why the golfers all dress alike.

gawilli said...

I always though Deep Throat was Martha Mitchell also.

willi said...

Found another person with the conspiracy theory blues.

"We got Fundamentalist Muslims
We got Fundamentalist Jews
We got fundamentalist Christians
They’ll blow the whole thing up for you.

But as travel around this big ole world there’s one thing
I that I most fear
Its White man in a golf shirt with a cell phone in his ear."

-Tom Russell Who’s Gonna Build Your Wall?