So here I am at the American Free Press meeting, described so cruelly and accurately by Al Parker (see comments). I don’t know what this younger generation is coming to. You won’t find me or Joe being cruelly accurate.

Anyway meand Kelso drove up here all the way in the middle of Ernesto, which the weather bureau called a storm or a hurricane, but Ernesto is just one more pain-in-the-ass illegal alien to me.

So I attended NONE of the speeches, for reasons I am not allowed to talk about until someone stops dribbling around.

DC is my second home town, so I went out the first night and had a thrilling incident which involved the police — my own record is still as clean as a whistle — so I can’t talk about THAT.

I spent an adrenelin-soaked week in the middle of intrigues I can’t talk about.

If you are young, I hope this gives a tone of mystery and intrigue. But by the time you reach my age with a whole LIFE you have to talk about while walking on eggshells,, being told ONE MORE TIME that it’s all hush-hush until Somebody Calls Somebody makes you nauseous.

I hereby fearlessly predict that those calls will NEVER take place.

Half my LIFE has been waiting on calls that never took place and documents that were never declassified and all the rest of it.