I am not me

Had an “event” at 4AM this morning. I was rushed to Secret Location Number 7 which has its own hospital. Probably “gas” the doctors there said. Maybe Sharon’s mini-stroke had me on edge, another suggested. They’ll need to be replaced by boot-lickers soon enough. I tried to count backwards in Andulusan and couldn’t.

I’m thinking that my brain is being replaced in stages. Maybe those techs showed up, after all, and are giving pieces of my gray-matter to “Grey-Boy.” Talk about alien abduction. Damn it; I am an Alien and even I’m not safe from it!

Had lunch with “Grey-Boy” later in the day. He looked unusually smart and confident. He buttered his bread all by himself. I even caught myself day-dreaming about a date with Maureen Dowd; and after what she wrote about me in today’s Times. --I’m not so bad to hang-out with, really. I can be funny and suave and know which wines to order with my Big Mac. --Something screwy is going on... I’ll have to get the NSA on it pronto.