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April 16, 2008

April 16, 2008 – The Crazy Lady Going To I.B.

            Picked up this real nut earlier.  She didn’t look like your typical weather beaten crazy on the street.   She actually seemed pretty normal at first.  Well dressed, articulate, polite, didn’t smell.  It’s always nice when your cab fares don’t smell, and for the most part they don’t.  Except if they’re in the Navy.  Then they usually do.

            So this lady was pleasant, and going to Imperial Beach.  Probably a $30 ride or so.  Anything over like $12 I consider to be a good ride.  The lady, who we’ll call “Beatrice”, was quite talkative.  Lots of questions, which I don’t mind, unless they are about “Taxicab Confessions” or “Cash Cab.”  I hate those questions.

            Beatrice was going off on and on about all of these backdoor political scandals, that apparently only she was privileged to know about.  The stories all seemed pretty feasible, and I didn’t really have any way of knowing because she was talking about CEO’s of major, but lesser known companies, and how they were all engaged in malfeasance in some form or another.  This was all premised by the “fact” that she was a lawyer, or an attorney as I believe they like to be called.  I thought that I heard that “lawyer” has a negative connotation attached to it. 

            Regardless. So as Beatrice keeps blabbering away I began to wonder.  First off, I don’t think lawyers are allowed to tell me about on going criminal cases.  I would just smile and nod.  That’s really the best way to deal with people like this.  Then she dropped the bomb on me.  She had “people” that were on to her.  After all, she was on to them.  She knew about their surreptitious dealings.  She told me that she could be killed for talking about this, yet she just kept blabbing away.  And what was the bombshell might you ask…?  Well it was that she had $20,000,000,000 in secrets stemming from political pawns to the upper echelons of Congress, and even the White House, sitting I a safety deposit box somewhere in San Diego.  That’s not a typo – 20 Billion.

            Really?  So why are you renting, in Imperial Beach of all places, in some run-down apartment building.  I mean if I had 20 billion dollars I sure as hell wouldn’t be living in Imperial Beach, in the hood.  It must be too dangerous right now to sell those secrets.  Perhaps the Russians are watching her.  It’s no problem to spill your guts to a total stranger though, a cabbie I might add…

            But there’s more...  As she got out Beatrice noticed a car in the dark alley.  Could it have been a government agent?  An assassin?  Someone getting off the night shift at work?  She ran out and jotted down the license plate and told me that I absolutely was forbidden to repeat anything that we talked about.  Until now.  I must break my silence.  The world needs to know…

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