It just hit me today. Elvis is really dead. I think. Yes, it happened 30 years ago, but we all know how the subconscious can sweep things like this under the rug to protect the conscious mind. He was an inspiration to me, especially how he tried to convince Nixon to let him become a "Federal Agent-at-Large" in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, how he changed his identity so well (from thin country sex symbol to Hollywood movie star to Vegas showman), and how he may or may not be dead. (I thought I saw him in a Carlisle, PA Sheets store back in '01, but I was running pretty fast from someone so didn't have time to go back and double-check. It was probably my mind playing a practical joke on me as I dodged a handful of .38 caliber slugs and sprinted into the stock room. )
Nah, he’s really gone, isn't he? I’m a mess. Thank God I still have John Lennon and his music to help me through this.
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A Little (Just a Little) About Me
There’s so much I’d like to tell you but so little I can. I’ve been a member of the Federal Witness Protection Program for 15 years (or 17 months). The name you see above, while a real name, may or may not describe an actual man or woman (or dog or cat). The name could include the initials of my original identity, but that could, in turn, lead you to two (or ten) questions:1) Would I be that stupid? (or smart?)2) If so, to which identity do the initials refer? The name on my first (or second) birth certificate? The pet name a girl, or boy, gave me back in high school (assuming I went, which doesn’t mean I did)?For reasons I can’t get into, let’s just say if I were to give away any clues as to who I am (still waiting for the first handwriting expert to crack the Times New Roman font) or what I’ve done with my life, my presence here on earth (if that’s, in fact, where I live) would end relatively quickly. Just know you’re reading from someone with experience (or inexperience). Don’t worry (or do). You can (or shouldn't) trust me.
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