Long story shortened but not by much: you might just want to scroll past.
Dad was a bridge engineer, and a voracious reader of History. Book shelves floor to ceiling, packed and over-packed.
As a kid i came across a paperback of Lane's "Rush to Judgment." Dad had notes written in the edges, cross-referencing other books, which were also on the shelves. Conspiracy books, yes: Warren Report: Yes.
When I was a young adult I believed conspiracies. Note: my Father's notes indicated no conspiracies, just in-depth cross-referencing with an occasional judicious question mark.
So I took a couple of days off work. Drank heavily at a party Sunday, left Sunday evening to Dallas from Modesto, California. Fast-forward: I was back in Modesto Thursday morning, incoherent and wise.
First thing I learned: sleep deprivation coupled with alcohol is a bitch.
Second thing: got pulled over twice in Dallas by the Police, and they were the nicest cops I ever have met.
Pulled over the first time on my way south into Texas. Cali plates, ponytail, dangling earring, open bottle of Bushmills on the back seat in plain sight. Also, me: ferociously handsome, yet glazed.
The officer asked me what I was doing so far from home; I said I was going to your Dallas to see the Schoolbook Depository. He took a look at my papers, nodded, wished me a great visit to the Great State of Texas and advised me that I would be better off driving the speed limit on the rest of my way.
Generous, him.
So: the Schoolbook Depository.
Stood in the area glassed off by the window. Smaller scale than I had ever envisioned.
Watched the traffic make the turn, lazy, easy.
Fuck. I could make that shot.
Knoll, Overpasses: no way. Harder shots, nowhere to hide, despite decades of stories to the contrary. The conspiracy stories only make sense if you haven't actually been there.
From that window I could've blown Kennedy's brains out with an Italian mail-order Mannlicher-Carcano Nerf Gun. If I had pulled my dick out from behind the Grassy Knoll I would've been spotted by a dozen people. Of which some might have reported me to the police, I don't know. Some people are live-and-let-live about naked dicks.
I then took a sideways woozy nap on the Grassy Knoll, stared upwards through closed eyes, cars rumbling by, memory.
On the way home I was stopped by a Texas officer who told me I had a headlight out, and that it was illegal to drive in Texas without functioning headlights.
I asked him where I might find replacement functioning headlights at two AM.
He said not anywhere around here. But that he was going to get on the highway going the other way. Not that this was to mean anything. Except: Good Luck, God Bless.
Wink wink.
And: Cali plates.
Did I mention how cool the Texas Police were?
Drove on home. Chain-smoked, saw electric dinosaurs and shadow bats in the Mojave Desert. I had the radio on a non-station blasting non-station static to stay awake and was beating the shit out of my thigh to stay awake and get a few miles more, a few miles more, a few miles more.
This doesn't even cover the asshole Cop in Albuquerque or the Denny's at the border.
So: that was the short version.
And.
Oswald did it.
I am Laslo,
Scroll past? Not likely. Now if I could find the long version, I'd be happy.
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