Saturday, July 8, 2017

July 8, 2017

Dear Diary,

Ever since Dr. Morell switched me over to the non-drowsy antihistamines, my hallucinations thinking processes seem to be sharper than ever.  So now when I see a giant slug chasing me down Madison Avenue think about international political issues, it's with much more clarity.  Take today, for example. When what's left of my hearing overheard one of the melon heads on CNN mutter something about Carrot Head at the G20 conference, I immediately snapped to attention.

Back when I was important, I used to go those European meetings to discuss very important issues like nuclear proliferation, climate change and the elimination of cilantro from my chef's salad. In those days, however, the number one topic was the use of torture against my political enemies prisoners of war. Stuff like water-boarding made the headlines, but believe me, there was lots of good stuff were much worse practices that never went public.

Most people don't know that while torture was illegal in the USA, there were torture chambers set up in Poland, where the CIA had front row seats to watch non-Americans kick the crap out of question any unshaven heathen wearing a towel on his head Taliban and al-Qaeda operatives.  It wasn't as bad as everyone says. It was actually kind of fun, because everyone would place bets on which rag head prisoner would last longest, and whoever lost had to buy pizza for everyone else.

You had to buy your own beer, though.

Of course, there were some pretty grizzly episodes that remain classified to this day. Like the time when we the Poles ran out of fingernails to pull of this one victim guy. He was one tough nut that refused to crack, and we the Poles had thrown just about everything they had at him. The place was a bloody mess, but I have to hand it to him: that was one tough muslim. We The Poles were just about to throw in the towel, when I suggested a different tactic.

I had my limo whisk me back to my hotel and returned with a CD of Barbra Streisand's Greatest Hits. At first, even the CIA Poles thought it was over the line, but seeing as we had no alternative, they played "People," which was enough to get the guy breaking into a sweat. By the time Barb was shrieking with Neil Diamond on "You Don't Send Me Flowers Anymore," he was singing like a canary, crying like a baby and begging us to stop.

Turns out he didn't have any really good information and was later found to have "hanged himself in his cell" (tee hee), but I got to show everyone that I can be tough. And the best part was I didn't have to pay for the pizza.

Subscribe for each day's entry by Email!