A Third Sniper is
Still on the Loose
by Red Bagel 

Here’s a phrase I’ve never said before: Good work, police. It goes against everything I stand for at heart and everything the stoner counter-culture who makes up our fanbase believes, but in this particular case, the five-O did their jobs well in apprehending Malvo and Muhammad, the famous snipers of last year. Some have called them the East Coast Killers, but myself, finding it distasteful to so lightly treat the subject of murderers, prefer to call them the Deathmasque.

But I package that compliment with a chiding, for no extra charge. For the snipers, whatever you call them, have only been two-thirds apprehended.

Gasp, if you’re inclined. Then close your mouth before the flies take up residence. Bagel shits you not, Americans. A third sniper is out their running around loose, or possibly ambling, I make no bold statement concerning his walking speed. But this third sniper is free still, and if you need any more proof, check out the recent shootings in Ohio. Police may say they’re unrelated shootings, but what have the police ever done for us, besides catching the first two snipers?

Who is this sniper? Do I look like the cops to you? Not my job to wildly speculate on the identities of snipers, folks, only to wildly accuse them of being larger in number than they’ve previously indicated.

I suppose you want to know my source, source-nosers. You would think after all this time I have more than earned your trust. After all, I’ve delivered pretty amazing information over the years—information so amazing, would I were to hear it for the first time, I certainly would be too agape to ask for proof. But I understand your need for verification—we live in a hard world that demands facts rather than rhetoric.

And this source, if I am at liberty to say, is among the most reliable I’ve ever consulted. I was reluctant to believe such an outrageous tale as the three-gunman theory, but my source revealed to me such conclusive evidence I could not refute it. Trajectories, shell plating, sight lines—all such confusing forensic jargon I had no choice but believe. One-hundred and ten percent proof two people could not have, under any normal human circumstances, committed those crimes alone.

Not to belabor the point, but when I think about it a little more, I really have earned a little more credit than you’re giving me. I announce to you some of the most amazing conspiracy news of our fresh young century and all you want to hear is names, names, names—of sources, sources, sources. Thanks for the credit, he sarcastically remarked. But I think I’ve made my point.

Anyone examining the current talk of insanity pleas in the Malvo trial, or studying the Muhammad trial transcripts carefully can see (and it doesn’t take my pointing out) there is subtle reference to a third individual. The question is: Who is this third individual, and why have the Malvo-Muhammad duo and their lawyers kept silent about it until now?

You know, what does a source really prove? Oh, someone else knows about this information as well. But what does that matter to you, Mr. and Mrs. Middle America, you wouldn’t know some D.C.-area librarian from a Hoboken mental patient. A big-time Washington-area insider could mean complete legitimacy to those in the know, but if you don’t know him, I could totally make up a name and you wouldn’t be able to tell. It just pisses me off. You should know I wouldn’t bring you a third-rate source. All this time, all these endless column inches—for what? I could’ve been writing about the time I diddled that girl from Subway. It certainly wouldn’t lessen my credibility, would it? Shams.

Let’s suppose, on this one occasion, I might have neglected to get the name and occupation of my source. Roughly translated, forgot to check my facts. Would that kill an otherwise spotless record? I think not. What do you think? Hypothetically. Of course it wouldn’t.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
It’s true, I can’t afford those fancy ergonomic chairs for the office as I pledged to buy in December 2001 and again promised to deliver this year. If you ask me, your posture is good enough. Ergonomic chairs at this point would be tampering with God’s plan to form your backs to his will—or Buddha. If you believe in Buddha.

Save the Super-Accelerator
But before you get comfortable and believe this is how everyone thinks, you should know: There are certain special interests groups in Washington who don’t like the super-accelerator. Shocking, perhaps, but we can’t shy away from the truth.

commune Story
Unfortunately, this involves the unpleasant history between me and my father, which is the major reason I’ve not discussed the commune openly with many people before now. It is true my father owned the commune, legally, the original commune and therefore the name and likenesses. To an extent.

Boys, You’re All Pretty
I am all for the occasional goofing off, when I am completely unaware of it. I heartily endorse a work environment where everyone is comfortable when I’m not present. However, when my good will is abused like a 14-year-old’s johnson, it’s no more Mr. Nice Guy, Alice Cooper. Hence I instituted the strict policy that all commune employees, even the meager people, are no longer allowed to host personal websites.