I was in in New York at 3 am when I wrote most of this in a little note pad. My train was scheduled to leave for more than two more hours, and I'd been waiting for what seemed forever. My friend had assured me that the trains ran all night, but I think maybe he knew better and was geting back at me somehow. He blamed me for being bored or something.

Now, I don't know if it's because it was the anniversary of the September 11th attacks, but the National Guard was there in force. Maybe not force, but there were two guardsman at the main entrance, one or two at the main Police desk, and often several casually making the rounds.

I was eating a $6 sandwich (with a complimentary bag of chips) and nursing a $2 cup of selve serve coffee. It's a funny thing when what's barely a meal costs more than half your roundtrip fare. But at least I'd brought some work. Yes, I brought work to a party, I spent half an hour leaning against a rail thin tree outside the bar, reading fragments of the neoterics and much of a Wendell Clausen article. As I alluded to earlier, that may be what landed me the graveyard shift with the Guard.

I'd gotten through all of my work when the crazy howled with glee. It's not when you think. This was a middle-aged white guy with a neatly trimmed goatee on his way back to San Francisco after protesting the Republican convention. His return trip had been delayed somehow over a pre-purchased ticket, though I'm not sure how one gets from Penn Station to San Francisco. Regardless, that was his story, but it didn't end there.

There was a relatively young retired naval officer on the row of seats behind me, and the San Francisco crazy was facing him. Two young women walked by, one patiently listening with arms folded, the other yelling that she was 'sick of this shit.' I'd seen the patient girl walking with a guardsmen a bit earlier, chatting casually but evidentally looking for someone. It seemed a typical enough scene, and I imagined a drunken boyfriend making an ass of himself not far away, probably vomiting. But the San Francisco crazy howled, like I said, and shouted, "I know which they they should go!"

The naval officer laughed and said, "back outside?"

Again with glee the crazy said, "to a hotel room! No, no, no! I don't know that!" He laughed some more apparently imagining rage fueling XXX action, and that got the conversation going.

It all started when he was twelve years when he got his hands on 'the book.' It was then in 1966 that he dedicated his life to stopping this current war, which was orchestrated by Richard Nixon and George Bush!

He told the naval officer what a great he'd had in New York at ground zero. Everyone was asking him questions and looking at his cardboard signs! Why, they'd even call their friends and family on their cell phones and share the information with them, reading his signs word for word over the phone. He was in his glory. But this must be nothing new because he knows so much and has been trying to save the world for so long. He rattled off a list of names of politicians he'd tried to warn about various conspiracies and murder plots, but Governor Jesse Ventura was the only one who ever listened to him.

As it turns out those who lost loved ones on September 11th don't like to hear the 'truth' about how our government planned the attacks to support the Jews.

Did you catch that? I think he said Jews or Jewish at least 15 times. Osama bin Laden is a cover, Saddam Hussein is a TV show, and the Jews are apparently pulling the strings. I should have predicted he'd blame Jews, because the radical Left always does. Never forget that the National Socialist Party grew out of the radical Left.

And the San Francisco crazy would not have you forget that twelve Jewish doctors created the AIDS virus in a secret laboratory. His "boss used to work there, man."

But again, those who lost loved ones in the terrorist attack don't like to hear his truth. But do you know who does? In his words, "you know, the Blacks and the international people, they understand. They get it. This guy from Paris wants to interview me."

The naval officer showed restraint only saying that he'd had to make a few trips to inform families of deaths before his retirement, and when pressed about his service simply said, 'it's a long story, sir.'