Dammit! The things you hear when you don't have your micro-cassette recorder on you! I just talked to the craziest man in San Diego. He wore a black leather hat, t-shirt, jeans, and Nike running shoes, and he had a windbreaker tied around his waist. He showed up in the courtyard of my apartment complex just a few minutes ago, carrying a black gym bag and talking to himself -- till I got there. I asked him if I could help him, and he asked me who the property manager is. We've had some crime recently, and he seemed like a nut job, so I was evasive. I said I didn't know, as it keeps changing. Then he went off about how my apartment complex fits in with the triangle that he's mapped with overlay maps from the late 1970s and early 1980s when the kid was scraped with rusty metal to make it look like it's a new disease, when it's really just malaria or something, and how this was used in conjunction with the rectangular pool over at a complex north of El Cajon Blvd. where they staged the Reagan thing in 1980, with James Baker, and it corresponds with a place in Mission Valley and has to do with a method of keeping someone alive in a pipe or tube-form, just like the tubes underneath the wooden stairwells in our complex (do you see them? see those there?), where you keep them in there, and he has an architect over on Adams Ave. who can vouch for it and if you go over to the complex on Mississippi St., and knock on the pipes, it sounds just like the pipe that the kid used to play tether ball, but it really is pathetic, it's pathetic is what it is, it's people not being held responsible, and they're using the kid now as a business guarantee, now that he's grown, and the James Baker situation was in conjunction with the fact that, back in 1974, they were using the kid, and they had their hands down his pants and it's provable, that's the thing about it, is that it's provable. I was only able to ask a few questions here and there throughout, and just as I was about to tell him I wanted to show him the pamphlet about The Pricker (during which time I would have grabbed my recorder and shoved it in my shirt pocket), he apologized for interrupting my reading, wished me a good day, and walked off. Damn damn damn! I coulda had an mp3 to post!