CCBlackMatters

Recently while searching through intelligence archives at Langley, I came across a small black folder containing a few faded typewritten pages; the documents appear to be notes of a cosmological nature, written by a CIA researcher around 1964. It seems this CIA officer was undertaking classified research into the nature of space-time, and their potential manipulation for intelligence purposes. The operational results of the project (if there were any operational results) apparently have not been recorded for posterity, or are sufficiently classified that neither I nor anyone I know at CIA are aware of them.

Ironically, the author of the notes in the small black folder in question is listed as one ‘John A. King.’ Given that CIA employees are routinely issued generic-sounding cover names like this, I’m assuming it’s just a coincidence (your humble intelligence officer, John Alejandro King, could not possibly have composed these documents in 1964, since that was the year, more or less, of my birth.)

After much deliberation I have decided, in the interest of our Universal Security, not to seek mainstream publication of these papers. Instead, to ensure these secrets remain beyond the reach of the general public, I’ve posted them here on my web site. In this way it is assured that, if there be any value to these writings, then as the Gospel states plainly: Whatever is not hidden shall surely not be brought to light.

John Alejandro King

a.k.a. The Covert Comic

Near Washington, DC

24 November 2004

Big Bang at Langley

Last night at Langley

I witnessed black matter

Last night at Langley

I beheld the Big Bang

Last night at Langley

I climbed into the Big Chair

And switched on that most secret of instruments

The one that reaches into everything simultaneously

And in that moment, I was present in all places

And in that moment, I was everywhere invisible

And in that moment, I was infinitely massive

And in that moment, I was lighter than light

And in that moment I realized

That I would never return from this mission

And in that moment I realized

That I had never left at all

The joke’s on me, folks

For the secret I discovered

Is that nothing is secret

… And every secret is nothingness

Another way to put it:

Dark matter is jokes

And jokes is dark matter

... Bit-a-Boom!

Warning:

This intelligence report

Is classified Spirit Only

... Bit-a-Boom!

Last night at Langley

Black matter was my witness

Last night at Langley

I became the Big Bang

There's no bad poetry, only bad audiences

Black Matters

And you shall not know the truth

And not knowing the truth shall keep you free

Trust me on this one

I have good news, and black news

The good news:

Dark matter is life

And dark matter is ninety percent of the universe

The black news:

Life is ninety percent dark matter

In the land of black smoke

One minute after midnight

I did not descend in darkness

Riding in a plane with no lights on

To engage in black matters

For the Central Indigo Agency

And with my invisible buddies

Did not venture into black holes

To find those dark vials of nothing

That didn't kill dim peasants

And when I didn't resurface

I did not find that it was night in America

Did not find the torch in her hand extinguished

Did not see a blindfold on the Statue of Liberty

After all, in a light-deprived universe

How could I have seen anything?

In the land of black smoke

Infinitely many minutes after midnight

I didn't stroll through darkened palaces

Didn't drive past blackened village walls

Or meet with dissidents who'd been blinded by their government

And sell them dark sunglasses

I know what you're not saying:

'He's confusing dark matter with black holes'

But if dark matter really exists

(And if it really does exist, does it really exist?)

Then by definition, how could you tell one from the other?

In the land of black smoke

Where no one has ever seen, nor ever will see

A clock strike midnight

You are not reading this poem

Because this poem is made of black matter

Which means: light cannot reflect off the page

True, your light can penetrate the words

And illuminate the pitch-black verses

But once this happens, your light cannot return to you

Once this happens, your light is trapped inside the poem

Oh, and I already knew you wouldn't accept this explanation

... Which just proves my point

Like I said ...

Interpreting the Terror Alert Level:

A Guide for Ordinary Americans

John Alejandro King

A.k.a. The Covert Comic

Reasonably Ordinary American

How to interpret the Terror Alert Level:

Step 1:

Consult the National Threat Advisory

Which is based on the Homeland Security Advisory System

Which is published by the Department of Homeland Security

Step 2:

Note the specific Terror Alert Level

Which is also known as the Threat Condition

Step 3:

Think about how terrified you feel

Step 4:

Carry on with your life

And/or

Contact Federal Authorities

Top Secret Zen Poem

On the Theme of the Famous Quote:

'The Clash of Ideas is the Sound of Freedom'

What is the sound of one idea clashing?

Boobs, Explosions, and Caring

Now I recognize my earlier mistake

When I asked that my writing be made

Into commercially successful feature length films

‘With lots of boobs and explosions’

See, I forgot that entire dimension

So critical to profitable filmmaking

That's right, you guessed it

I forgot about feeling, about compassion, about nurturing

In a word, about caring

So now I propose a new concept:

Three screens

With my writing narrated over them

Screen One:

Boobs (with nipples and areolas covered, as appropriate)

Screen Two:

Explosions (same restriction as above)

Screen Three:

People caring (‘’)

(Note: I guess it's OK if Screen Three shows people being empowered, too

Also, I don't think the Caring Screen needs to be limited to humans

For instance, you could also show animals, and even inanimate objects, caring)

As for how the film should end

(If the film should end):

I'm thinking, maybe all three screens could merge

Into one giant, caring, exploding boob

This could be the 'message' part

You know, so moviegoers won’t feel so bad

About me getting all that money

The Mime Album

Gag One

Intelligence Profile

Dark clothes, face painted white, never speaks:

If it harasses you

It's a mime

If it acts like it’s being harassed by you

It's a Goth

Gag Two

I expect those Afghan women hardest hit by Taliban rule

With its enforced wearing of the burqa

Were Afghan women mimes

Though obviously, they weren't allowed to speak about it then

And they can't speak about it now, pretty much by definition …

Gag Three

But if some guy really was trapped

Inside a glass box on a crowded city street

And he had white and black makeup on his face

And he was wearing suspenders, and a really stupid-looking cap

Would it be so funny?

God

Allah

Godzillallah

Let's see …

Earthquake in Lima

Flood in Bangladesh

More tribal conflict

In Sub-Saharan Africa

Also, change the name of Myanmar

Back to Burma

... Then change it to 'Flooper'

Oh, and don't forget

To make the bus twenty minutes late again

For Belgian peace activist

Pierre Vandenpeerebom

Because he knows we're doing it

And anyway, with a name like 'Pierre Vandenpeerebom'

You just ought to be late for peace meetings

- Note smuggled out of CIA morning ops planning session

Before reading The Covert Comic

While reading The Covert Comic

Jack Off!

The Covert Comic

A.k.a.

John Alejandro (‘JAK’) King

Even though they act like they don’t

Jack off!

There aren’t that many people who won’t

Jack off!

Jacking off!

Sweeter than honey

Jacking off!

It saves you money

Jacking off!

It’s a godsend if you’re ugly

Dr. Judith Lesbian, sexuality consultant:

‘Jacking off can help a person through an emotionally difficult situation

For example, if you’re feeling unhappy

Because you’ve been jacking off’

Some folks claim that it’s a sin to

Jack off!

Tonight, a lot of those folks will stay in to

Jack off!

Jacking off!

It’s not bad for ‘ya

Jacking off!

But let me warn ‘ya

Jacking off!

Is illegal in Georgia

Dr. Judith Lesbian, sexuality consultant, and author of more than seven thousand works on masturbation (all self-published):

‘A lot of people imagine they’re the only person in the world who jacks off

Actually, you, the person reading this poem right now

Are the only person in the world (in fact, in all the universe) who jacks off.

Once you realize that no one else in the entire cosmos jacks off except you

This understanding can help you to have an extremely intense and exciting jack-off session’

It’s not wrong to help another

Jack off!

Though you probably shouldn’t help your mother

Jack off!

Jacking off!

If you’re FBI-in’

Jacking off!

And it's me you're spyin'

Jacking off!

Then unzip your fly n’

Jack off!

Application For CIA Employment

When were you born?

What is your current address?

Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

Have you ever used illegal drugs?

Lao Tzu (Top Secret):

Those who know don’t talk

Those who talk don’t know

The Covert Comic (Bottom Secret):

What does he know?

What does he talk?

Are you fluent in a language besides English?

Are you loyal to the United States of America?

Do you intend, or have you ever engaged in activities intended, to harm the United States of America?

Why do you wish to work for the Central Intelligence Agency?

I’ve been spying on this Russian intel officer

Who’s spying on an FBI agent

Who’s spying on me

It’s kind of fun because

When I move my hand, I can actually see my hand move

A half second later

Do you currently possess US Government security clearances?

Have you ever had your US Government security clearances revoked?

Are you prepared to kill people if directed by your superior to do so?

Do you like the FBI?

I hear the song inside your soul

Now tell me, where's your mute control?

Where you see shadows, it means light is nearby

Unless, of course, the shadow you spy

Is actually a black hole

Tell me again, why do you wish to work for the Central Intelligence Agency?

That's what I thought you said ...

If it would expedite consideration of your application for CIA employment, would you be willing to kill The Covert Comic?

Did you know I’ve been watching you from the satellite this whole time?

'There never was a good war, or a bad peace'

Then again, there never was anything

So what the hell

What is your mother's maiden name?

What is your mother?

Are you going to eat that coleslaw?

Did you know you’ve been watching me from the satellite this whole time?

I knew a guy who submitted an application for CIA employment

And in his application, he left every question blank

When the CIA recruiter asked him why he did this, the guy said:

"The answers are all classified"

If you wish, you may base your application for CIA employment

Entirely on your answer to the following question:

Was the applicant in the above story hired, and if so/if not, why?

Alternately, if you wish you may continue answering the usual questions

Such as:

When will you be born?

When will you have a current address?

When do you intend to be convicted of a felony?

When will you be illegal drugs?

The sky is not falling. We're subverting gravity. - The Covert Comic

Preface: This morning I was walking down the street, and as usual every inanimate object everywhere was resisting me with its inertia.

Well maybe I’ll just start resisting back.

Poetry

Shmoetry

Grow a tree

Throw at me

A crow

Or three

Do Re Mi

Poe told me

‘Owe you me

Royalties

So go get thee

Mo' money

And bestow to me

For probity

My quoted fee’

Poe is me

Poetry

Go to sea

Grow a goatee

Though it be

Slow to see

A nose with fleas

So you'll see

The show is free

So it's the

Poetry

That flows from me

And blows in me

And to-and-fros in me

When throes in me

Supposedly

All froze in me

Have chose to be

Aglow in me

The Universe May Be A Lesbian

In an alternate universe

An alternate universe wouldn't exist

Therefore, if there's an alternate universe

There isn't an alternate universe

Great title for a poem

And great poem for a title

Of an article about cosmology:

Massive Black Hole Detected

Inside Massive Black Hole

I Don't Want to Have an Orgasm

That's what I said

And furthermore

I don't want to have an orgasm

Even when I say I don't want to have an orgasm

It's useful to study what famous people have said about orgasms

In order to help make sure I never have an orgasm

For example, Albert Einstein

Who developed the General and Special Theories of Orgasms, on orgasms:

One cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for orgasms

President John F. Kennedy (who had orgasms, but really didn't want to) on orgasms:

Those who make peaceful orgasms impossible will make violent orgasms inevitable

John F. Kennedy again (multiple orgasmic thoughts from this most virile of US Presidents) on orgasms:

We have the power to make this the greatest orgasm in the history of the world, or to make it the last

[Covert Comment: Like there's a difference?!]

Remember:

Absence of orgasm

Is not orgasm of absence

No blood for orgasms!

Now, as for other people having orgasms

This is perfectly acceptable

So long as I, myself, do not have an orgasm

Independently, or as a result of that event

Oh hell, let's face it

I sure would like to have an orgasm

I'm saying this so God will see

That I AM so wrong, I actually want to have an orgasm

So then maybe I won't have an orgasm

I can refrain from having an orgasm

Speaking of speaking of orgasms

Let us, in a non-orgasm-inducing way (for once), paraphrase Johann Wolfgang von Goethe:

If I want you to have an orgasm

What business is it of yours?

No orgasm

... Hey, wait a minute

'No orgasm'

... Norgasm!

But seriously

I don't want to have an orgasm

No, really, I do not want to have an orgasm

I am not going to have an orgasm

I am not

... (!)

Damn

Preface: The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote: "A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom following the seventh day of creation."

God's Boredom Following the Seventh Day of Creation

A Poem

The Covert Comic

... yawn

Sex with a Condom

The problem

With having sex with a condom

Is that you’re having sex

With a condom

The problem

With having sex with a condom

Is that you're having sex

The problem

With having sex with a condom

Is that you're having

The problem

With having sex with a condom

Is that you are

Poem About The War

Note to the editor:

Sorry for weighing in so late

With a poem on the current conflict.

If the deadline for submissions has passed

Then please consider this poem

For a future war

Poem about the war:

The war things change

The war things stay the same

The war the merrier

Less is war

By the way

Not to question the Infallible Word of God as revealed in Holy Scripture

But the passage: And they shall beat their swords into plowshares

Is this sort of violent imagery really appropriate

For an anti-war poem?

I AM the war on terror. - Mark 3, 21

Mark 3, 21

Jesus said:

Sell everything you have

And give the money to the poor

So I sold everything I had

And gave the money to the poor

Then those former poor people

Used the money I had given them

To buy all the stuff I’d sold

So now

Being good Christians

These noveau riche

Sold all the stuff they had purchased

And seeing that I was poor

Gave me all their money

At this point I figured ‘What the hell?’

I took the money they gave me

And bought all my old stuff back

Thursday we’re having a meeting at my place

To decide what to do next

My Fault

Click

Victim Face gets larger

A sure sign the voice will soon be breaking

Some multinational corporation forgot

To put people before profits

I dutifully glance up

From the sacred vault of the baloney sandwich

And think, ‘Uh-oh, something tells me

This may be my fault’

Click

N-th World child

Glares starkly at my living room

Seems to think my lampshades

Don’t quite match my sofa

By next week, he’ll be an angry young man

Looting televisions on television

I was just going to change the channel

But now I feel morally obligated to pause for a moment

And think, ‘In a shared, collective sense

This is surely my fault’

Click

Let’s see, this one’s my fault

Click

This one’s probably also my fault

Click

Hmmm. This one may or may not be my fault

Click

This one’s definitely my fault

Click

As usual, the Diaper Heads

Are hopping up and down

Someone dropped another nuclear

Bomb on their religion

Just when they were about to build

A truly just and sustainable

Socio-economic paradigm

I think, ‘I'm gonna go ahead and assume this one is my fault ...’

Click

The feminist

… Oh hell no!

Cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick!!!

(Calming down and resuming)

Click

Damn, here’s another one that’s my fault

Click

This one’s not my fault, this one is Alfred Nobel’s fault

Click

This one used to be my fault, but according to the TV it’s no longer my fault

Click

I have no idea what this is - I only pray it’s not my fault

Click

The guy with the Funny Hair

Is healing a leper

You can tell by the way the leper

Is leping and leping

I’m reminded of the time I sold everything I owned

(Except my TV, and my ‘clicker,’ of course)

And gave the money to the poor

And think, ‘Praise Jesus, this one isn’t my fault’

Alternative, hip poetic way of saying, 'Click'

Poetry critic babe in bikini raves:

‘Now THIS is a poem about clicking/non-clicking!’

Fills my living room with light

Asks me what I’ll do if I win a Pulitzer

I stare back, speechless yet grateful

(She doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sitting here naked)

And think, "Oh God, I know I don't deserve it

But could this one please be my fault?"

… Click

Parasite Heaven

You might assume it's hellish

But consider for a moment

The implications of being a human

In parasite heaven

First of all, the parasite would obviously want you to be as healthy as possible

Which would mean: plenty of good food for you

And also (perhaps ironically) ... minimal parasites!

After all, this being Parasite Paradise

Each parasite would have its own personal, disease-free host organism

So right off the top, you'd probably have less parasites than you currently have here on Earth

In parasite heaven

Also, in parasite heaven

The parasite would want you to be happy and pleasantly occupied

You know, so you wouldn't worry about having a parasite inside you,

And constantly be picking at it

So figure that, in addition to being well fed, you'd have lots of interesting things to do and study

In fact, it’s probably safe to say that you’d be high all the time

In parasite heaven

One thing about parasites:

They love to lay eggs

And in parasite heaven, with its one-organism-per-parasite policy

There would have to be plenty of corresponding human reproduction

... And you know what that means

That's right, people

Lots o' sex

In parasite heaven!

Really, when you think about it

We human beings

Would not be unlike parasites

In parasite heaven

Conclusion:

No doubt more research is needed

Before these tentative results can be officially approved

By the ecclesiastical community

Nevertheless, I'm confident further study, along with prayerful contemplation, will confirm

That the only real difference between hereafters human and parasitical

Is one tiny, brilliant vermin of light

In parasite heaven!

Oh My God, Ladies and Gentlemen

The review said the movie was violent

But there it sits in my DVD player

And doesn't so much as growl

Preface: I wonder what God is doing right now.

Whatever You Can Survive, You Deserve

In the beginning

All matter in the universe

Shall be compressed into an area

Approximately the size of a baseball

(Note: for those of you who aren’t American

A ‘baseball’ is an object approximately the size

Of a compressed universe)

G. K. Chesterton said:

'You cannot grow a beard

In a moment of passion'

Great idea for a poem

And great poem for an idea:

A list of all the things you can't grow

In a moment of passion

Now grow this:

Whatever you can survive

You deserve

And whatever you can deserve

You can grow a universe at

Preface: Have you ever read Allen Ginsberg? Don’t worry, nobody else has either.

The Allen Ginsberg Poems

When the sun first breaks

On my computer screen at CIA

At just the right hour of morning

Allen Ginsberg's poems

Have my fingerprints all over them

I can neither confirm nor deny

That I killed Allen Ginsberg

I can both confirm and deny

That I brought Allen Ginsberg to life

Allen Ginsberg said:

Comparisons are odious

I say:

Compared to what?

Allen Ginsberg said:

To know nothing is to know everything

I say:

Why did you have to tell me that?

Bill Hennessy

A.k.a. Allen Ginsberg:

Those who make it, market

Allen Ginsberg

A.k.a. The Covert Comic:

Those who fake it, fark it

Those who ache it, arc it

Those who quake it, quark it

Those who wake it, warp it

Allen Ginsberg said:

The war between the philosophers and the bean counters is over; the bean counters won

I say:

What was the score?

Allen Ginsberg said:

A Robin Redbreast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

I say:

But Cooked, and Seasoned with Touch of Sage

All Heaven the Redbreast will Assuage

They make movies

And they make movies about making movies

The next big trend in cinema:

Making movies about making movies about making movies

About Allen Ginsberg

Allen Ginsberg said:

Life is anything that dies when you stomp on it

I say:

Life is anything that doesn’t die when you stomp on it

Allen Ginsberg said:

It's a mathematical fact

That the casting of this pebble from my hand

Alters the center of gravity of the universe

I say:

So that's what happened to the universe!

What does all this have to do with Allen Ginsberg?

You're probably not asking

Well

What does Allen Ginsberg

Have to do with Allen Ginsberg?

Concluding Top Secret Postscript:

I must steel myself for heaven

For there Allen Ginsberg waits for me

Panting

On Your Mark, Get Set, Be

According to my young daughters

Night is the earth passing

Round the dark side of the sun

The Lady Schick

Here I lie forsaken

And hear the clock hand tick

And reflect upon my solitude

For want of a Lady Schick

He came to my distant village

My trembling hand to pick

And among the gifts he bore that day

Was a brand new Lady Schick

We married, and moved to his country

But at first, for fear of nick

I told him I was frightened

Of using my Lady Schick

The months passed by, and as love grew

I vowed to learn the trick

But I never did quite get around

To trying my Lady Schick

My girlfriends would gently chide me

For looking like such a hick

But even as I laughed, I dallied

From using my Lady Schick

Sometimes at night I’d wonder

As his soft cheek my thigh’d prick

If just one time it would kill me

To try out my Lady Schick

One morning he left ‘on business’

His frown made my pulse beat quick

I looked in the bathroom, and sure enough

He’d taken the Lady Schick

So now I lie forsaken

With grieving heart grown sick

And promise myself tomorrow

... To think about possibly trying a Lady Schick

For My Agents

Well, there's Inez

Who sold me secrets for a song

Back in the eighties

About guys wearing leather masks

Who stood at Guatemalan roadblocks

And if one of them nodded at you

You never existed

Inez had a fishbowl with three piranha

One of which was missing its right eye

... I've said too much already

Then there's Mark

From Minnesooooota

Once bought a picture book about tanks

For an illiterate Third World president

Carries a camouflage basketball on secret jungle missions

Just in case he finds a court to play on

This guy does a tour in your country

And the name of your country changes

... I've said too much already

Larry 'Wu Hai'

As we jokingly call him

Mormon (of course!)

I mean, how else do you explain the fact

That when the Russians tried to get him smashed in Minsk

He drank them all under the table

The really comical part:

He called us long distance, asking what to do

Not about the Slavs sprawled around the dacha

But about that angel circling above his head

... I've drank too much already

... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Fran

Fran, Fran, Fran ...

Nearly six-foot-tall, plausibly deniably blonde, luscious Fran

She's got knees that write their own chapbooks

... I've read too much already

Hey! Anybody heard from Zoomer?

I know he was in Damascus recently

On every tour, the guy has his picture taken

Standing outside the local intelligence headquarters

Always does the same gag pose

The thing I like about Zoomer:

Every now and then, if you look at him just right

You can actually see him vanish

... I've looked too much already

And there are so many more

Which means there aren't any

Agents of mine

Who fly into hell on business class

And fly back home in body bags

And in the Langley morgue, when the coroner unzips them

They sit up and give the password:

A joke question

About the food at Headquarters cafeteria

And then it's back to work

... And who hasn't worked too much already?

I hold you in my heart!

My clandestine clan, my true intelligence agents!

If only you knew what secrets you've told me!

If only you knew what secrets I'm telling you now!

And what secrets we shall yet tell each other

... I've told too much already, my people

You know who you aren't

Who quilled The Covert Comic?

Warning: This intelligence report is classified Third Eye Only.

One Divided By Zero

You want an equation of the Spirit?

I got your equation right here:

L = 1/0

Where L = The Light

And 1/0 = one, undivided

But as for what you can do with this equation

I'll tell you what you can do with it:

Go into the one, undivided

As through a dark passage, unto light

The Lord Helps Galaxies That Help Themselves

The world ends

Not with a bang

But with a whimper

The good news:

It's a really huge whimper

The Mime Album (Reprise)

Black clothes

Face painted white

Never speaks

Is it a mime?

Or is it a Goth?

… Or is it a moth?

Thank You, It’s Late To Be Here!

The crux

Is that the vast majority

Of the mass of the universe

Seems to be sucking

This Poem

This poem

Is not about poems

It's not about verses

Or meter

Or strophes

(Although I like strophes)

Or stanzas

This poem is not about sonnets

Or haikus

Or quatrains

Or muses

Or bards

(And by the way, if you say it right, the word ‘bard’ is definitely funny)

This poem

Is not about poetry blogs

Or poetry conferences

Or poetry newsletters

About how to organize poetry conferences

About poetry blogs

Or 'Pay To Have Your Poem Win A Nobel Prize!'

And thank God

This poem is not about poets

Which is to say:

This poem is not about politicians

Or beauty queens

Or relatives of rich publishers

Or publishers of rich relatives

Or other giants of poetry

And it's also not about

Poets who decry these sorts of people

Or other giants of poetry

This poem

Is not about poems

And this poem is not about not being about poems

And this poem is not about nothing

And it's not about not being about nothing

So all right then

What is this poem about?

Just what is this poem about?

Here's what this poem is about:

It's about a flower

Preface: Here we go. Are you ready?

Black Matters

God bless

And

Thank you

You’ve been a great audience!

[Laughter and applause]

A really funny and elaborate joke

In the form of a poem

Told more or less backward

For maximum comic effect

A funny thing happened on the way to the universe tonight ...

[Laughter]

But jokingly ...

[Scattered laughter and chuckles]

If, as Einstein insisted

God does not play dice with the universe

Then who the heck is doing it?

[Laughter]

Eleanor Roosevelt said:

'You must do the thing you think you cannot do'

As for me, I think I cannot do

Eleanor Roosevelt

[Loud laughter]

A man without a woman

Is like a bicycle without the fish smell

[Loud laughter ... along with many boos and hisses]

... Hey, it's not my fault. That's what happens to a joke when you invert space and time

[Laughter and inverted applause]

The absolute final 'Is The Glass Half Empty Or Half Full?' joke:

… What universe?!

[Pause followed by scattered laughter]

Last night I told my wife, ‘Get ready for the Big Bang’

She said, ‘From your space-time perspective, it’s the Big Bang

From my space-time perspective, it’s the little contraction’

[Loud laughter]

[Partially inaudible comment from an isolated heckler]

[More chuckles and scattered laughter]

… That’s a joke about string theory

[Scattered chuckles and laughter]

By the way, Schroedinger's Pet Shop will be open and closed indefinitely

... Probably

[Learned laughter]

A funny thing is going to happen on the way here tonight

[Chuckles …]

Thank you, it’s fate to be here!

[Laughter and applause]

‘Ladies and gentlemen, The Covert Comic!’

A voice comes over the sound system

Many in the audience begin to chuckle and clap expectantly

The lights dim

People take their seats

People come to a comedy club

Thought awakens

Life arises

Matter is created

Bang

Update!

You may recall, in the introduction to this work, my statement that no known record existed regarding any operational results associated with the above writings on classified CIA research into the nature of space-time.

... Well, in the last few nanoseconds new information has come to light, which new information may necessitate a disclaimer to this disclaimer.

While the data in question is at the moment fragmentary (and, of course, classified), your humble intelligence officer is carefully reviewing it and, even as we speak, I am inquiring as to whether additional information is available that might be relevant to the subject at hand. In the event I manage to obtain further intelligence about possible CIA space-time manipulation, its effect on world history, etc., I hereby promise not to make such intelligence public immediately, by posting it on my web site.

Thanks again, and God bless.

The Covert Comic.

The next room in the poet.