The Diary of Ghost Henry Samuelson
(As dictated to frontal lobe epileptic and amnesiac John Doe, a self-described autistic shaman.)
I saved my daughter's life last week! Do you think she's grateful? Do you think she brought flowers to my grave? NO! She had a major freak-out when Angela de la Paz told her that I had blown the whistle on that assassination plot! I had thought dying would bring us closer together, but Button wants even less to do with me now than when I was alive!
Sometimes I wonder if I really was kicked out of Purgatory. Maybe this is Purgatory? I'm finally head of the CIA, but it's only the Ghost CIA. We totally unleashed those chemical weapons in Syria, and do we get any credit for it? NO! We are this close to igniting WW III in the Middle East--and clearing out about 20 million people so that we can take control of all that petroleum--and who's gonna get credit for it, huh? Not me! It's enough to make a ghost want to get hold of a neutron bomb! I mean, all this dancing around--kiss the Saudi asses, kiss the Qatar asses, arm Saddam Hussein against Iran, turn on Saddam Hussein, arm Egypt, turn on Egypt, ignore Kuwait, invade Kuwait, avenge Lebanon, ally with Lebanon, arm the Taliban, destroy the Taliban, destroy Al Qaeda, arm Al Qaeda Junior--the Ghost CIA doesn't have to do worry about any of that crap, right?! We can do whatever we want! And I say, gas 'em all! But will I ever get credit for it?! NO!
And it's great I don't have to deal with all those Heurich Society twits anymore, or Condoleezza Rice the Bloodsucker, or Dick "the dick" Cheney, but most of the time I have nobody to talk to except this brain-injured freak! (No offense, John. Wait, don't put in that part. Don't put in this part! These are just things I'm saying to you off the record! Expunge! Jeez, can't you--? Never mind!)
(Where was I? Right, nobody to talk to.) Hardly anybody can hear me! And Obama is the worst of all! Every time I whisper something in his ear, he jumps halfway across the room, like I have the bubonic plague or something! People think former CIA operatives have no feelings, but we're still human beings! (What? Well, I think ghosts are human beings!) I finally have full access to the White House whenever I want it, but it's sooooo hard to get Obama to listen to me! Isn't that Purgatory? Sometimes I can get John Kerry to listen to me, but he seems very suspicious ever since I accidentally caused his wife's seizure.
Oh, and I have a hand-picked spy and assassin trained to my exact specifications under Project Cinderella, but Angela de la Paz does the exact opposite of what I tell her half the time. And the longer I'm dead, the more insubordinate she gets! And instead of seducing her way to the best-kept secrets in the world (which is what all that plastic surgery was for!), she went and fell in love with an Australian--of all the useless things to do! AND got herself pregnant. And lately she hasn't even been killing anybody! Charles Wu has got her thinking she can just use mental mojo or something--boss people around!
I tell you, it's driving me crazy! Of course, can I say that to the other ghosts? I tried to confide to the ghost of Robert McNamara. (You don't know who that is?! He was Secretary of Defense and bombed Cambodia! Well, yeah, it was years ago, but--oh, never mind that!) He told me to go see his psychiatrist, Ermann Esse! First of all, just because a guy says, "this is driving me crazy!", doesn't mean he's actually crazy! Secondly, McNamara doesn't even know he's dead himself, and a ghost! He calls himself "Didymus"! Thirdly, Dr. Esse doesn't even know Didymus is a ghost! Esse is a complete moron! He tried to get Didymus to get on the Internet and play resilience games with Jane McGonigal for cognitive evolution, but Didymus doesn't even have opposable thumbs anymore!
You know, I thought I would have a lot of free time after I died, but I'm busier than ever! I can't call anybody on the phone--everything has to be in person! I'm flitting all over this town, back and forth, just trying to get people to listen to me. And, sure, I can sneak up and spy on anybody I want, but I can only be in one place at a time! And, you would think I could play a practical joke every now and then--have some fun?! I can't get my hands to do anything except poke people! I've found out most ghosts are just whisperers like me: to become a real poltergeist would be lots of fun, but it apparently takes decades of training and practice, and who's got the time for that? I've got a Ghost CIA to run! You think I wouldn't love to find a way to empty out Charles Wu's bank accounts or insert porno pictures in Susan Rice's PowerPoints? Too few hours in the day.
But I take my job seriously--somebody has to! Shaping the world to be exactly what it's supposed to be is the most important job in the world! And while it's true that the Ghost CIA doesn't have as much firepower as the living CIA, we can SEE more. That's what saddest of all: I thought people would trust me more, now that I'm dead! John Doe said maybe because I'm dead, people think I'm a little too blase' about death and killing, but I was just as blase' when I was alive! You have to kill a lot of undesirables to get a world that's secure and peaceful! It's always been that way--I didn't make the world that way.
(Alright, well I guess that's all for now, John. Do you have time to go visit the Speaker of the House? I've heard Boehner's Bunker has 20 kinds of salty snacks and 8 kinds of whiskey, so you'll probably get a good epileptic seizure and shamanistic vision out of it. And who am I kidding?! Without cash to hand 'em, you're gonna have to put on a pretty good show to get him to listen to me! Why are you writing all this down? We're done with the diary today! Stop!)
**************************
COMING UP: A confused (and haunted) Congress wheels and deals on the Middle East, the Justice Department tasks Atticus Hawk with legally justifying everything the National Security Agency has ever done, and Liv Cigemeier contemplates accepting new job offers from Charles Wu or International Development Machine.
I saved my daughter's life last week! Do you think she's grateful? Do you think she brought flowers to my grave? NO! She had a major freak-out when Angela de la Paz told her that I had blown the whistle on that assassination plot! I had thought dying would bring us closer together, but Button wants even less to do with me now than when I was alive!
Sometimes I wonder if I really was kicked out of Purgatory. Maybe this is Purgatory? I'm finally head of the CIA, but it's only the Ghost CIA. We totally unleashed those chemical weapons in Syria, and do we get any credit for it? NO! We are this close to igniting WW III in the Middle East--and clearing out about 20 million people so that we can take control of all that petroleum--and who's gonna get credit for it, huh? Not me! It's enough to make a ghost want to get hold of a neutron bomb! I mean, all this dancing around--kiss the Saudi asses, kiss the Qatar asses, arm Saddam Hussein against Iran, turn on Saddam Hussein, arm Egypt, turn on Egypt, ignore Kuwait, invade Kuwait, avenge Lebanon, ally with Lebanon, arm the Taliban, destroy the Taliban, destroy Al Qaeda, arm Al Qaeda Junior--the Ghost CIA doesn't have to do worry about any of that crap, right?! We can do whatever we want! And I say, gas 'em all! But will I ever get credit for it?! NO!
And it's great I don't have to deal with all those Heurich Society twits anymore, or Condoleezza Rice the Bloodsucker, or Dick "the dick" Cheney, but most of the time I have nobody to talk to except this brain-injured freak! (No offense, John. Wait, don't put in that part. Don't put in this part! These are just things I'm saying to you off the record! Expunge! Jeez, can't you--? Never mind!)
(Where was I? Right, nobody to talk to.) Hardly anybody can hear me! And Obama is the worst of all! Every time I whisper something in his ear, he jumps halfway across the room, like I have the bubonic plague or something! People think former CIA operatives have no feelings, but we're still human beings! (What? Well, I think ghosts are human beings!) I finally have full access to the White House whenever I want it, but it's sooooo hard to get Obama to listen to me! Isn't that Purgatory? Sometimes I can get John Kerry to listen to me, but he seems very suspicious ever since I accidentally caused his wife's seizure.
Oh, and I have a hand-picked spy and assassin trained to my exact specifications under Project Cinderella, but Angela de la Paz does the exact opposite of what I tell her half the time. And the longer I'm dead, the more insubordinate she gets! And instead of seducing her way to the best-kept secrets in the world (which is what all that plastic surgery was for!), she went and fell in love with an Australian--of all the useless things to do! AND got herself pregnant. And lately she hasn't even been killing anybody! Charles Wu has got her thinking she can just use mental mojo or something--boss people around!
I tell you, it's driving me crazy! Of course, can I say that to the other ghosts? I tried to confide to the ghost of Robert McNamara. (You don't know who that is?! He was Secretary of Defense and bombed Cambodia! Well, yeah, it was years ago, but--oh, never mind that!) He told me to go see his psychiatrist, Ermann Esse! First of all, just because a guy says, "this is driving me crazy!", doesn't mean he's actually crazy! Secondly, McNamara doesn't even know he's dead himself, and a ghost! He calls himself "Didymus"! Thirdly, Dr. Esse doesn't even know Didymus is a ghost! Esse is a complete moron! He tried to get Didymus to get on the Internet and play resilience games with Jane McGonigal for cognitive evolution, but Didymus doesn't even have opposable thumbs anymore!
You know, I thought I would have a lot of free time after I died, but I'm busier than ever! I can't call anybody on the phone--everything has to be in person! I'm flitting all over this town, back and forth, just trying to get people to listen to me. And, sure, I can sneak up and spy on anybody I want, but I can only be in one place at a time! And, you would think I could play a practical joke every now and then--have some fun?! I can't get my hands to do anything except poke people! I've found out most ghosts are just whisperers like me: to become a real poltergeist would be lots of fun, but it apparently takes decades of training and practice, and who's got the time for that? I've got a Ghost CIA to run! You think I wouldn't love to find a way to empty out Charles Wu's bank accounts or insert porno pictures in Susan Rice's PowerPoints? Too few hours in the day.
But I take my job seriously--somebody has to! Shaping the world to be exactly what it's supposed to be is the most important job in the world! And while it's true that the Ghost CIA doesn't have as much firepower as the living CIA, we can SEE more. That's what saddest of all: I thought people would trust me more, now that I'm dead! John Doe said maybe because I'm dead, people think I'm a little too blase' about death and killing, but I was just as blase' when I was alive! You have to kill a lot of undesirables to get a world that's secure and peaceful! It's always been that way--I didn't make the world that way.
(Alright, well I guess that's all for now, John. Do you have time to go visit the Speaker of the House? I've heard Boehner's Bunker has 20 kinds of salty snacks and 8 kinds of whiskey, so you'll probably get a good epileptic seizure and shamanistic vision out of it. And who am I kidding?! Without cash to hand 'em, you're gonna have to put on a pretty good show to get him to listen to me! Why are you writing all this down? We're done with the diary today! Stop!)
**************************
COMING UP: A confused (and haunted) Congress wheels and deals on the Middle East, the Justice Department tasks Atticus Hawk with legally justifying everything the National Security Agency has ever done, and Liv Cigemeier contemplates accepting new job offers from Charles Wu or International Development Machine.
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 2:01 PM
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