Would I Be Able to Tell?

    One of the perks of my job (besides finding spare change on the

I just dump the ones I find
in the bathroom
into a bucket of bleach. 
Because ewwwwwww.....

floor) is that I get to listen to music and, quite often, podcasts.  These run the gamut from two talking heads arguing about the world of baseball to discussions about the Kennedy assassination and Marilyn Monroe's "suicide" (SPOILER:  They're not with us anymore).  

    One of the ones I listen to is a conspiracy theory/paranormal kind of show on Stitcher called Ground Zero with Clyde Lewis.  While I don't agree with a lot of what he says (some of it is wayyyyy out there) and am amazed at the number of drunks calling in to his show, it does pass the time while I "live the dream" (one little bit he plays between his discussion is Peter Griffin from Family Guy telling Brian, "Wowwwwww....ground zero.  So this is where the first guy got AIDS."). 

 

Huh. 
Come to think of it,
I hope that's a girl fish.

  Kinda silly, but it's way better than listening to Alex Jones rant about homosexual fish or how the NSA has bugged our bathrooms.

    Anyway, one of the things posited on Clyde's show is a theory that we live in a kind of simulation, much like the Truman Show or the Matrix.  In other words, we all live in a dystopian world where puppet-masters guide our every move.  Well, yeah, whatever.  Sounds a tad silly, but hey, whatever.
    
    In any case, it reminds me of a time back in 1978 (or

Ahhhhh...the 70s. 
I was a hot bit of business. 
With an untucked shirt.

'79...whenever) when I was part of the crew of USS America.  We were just returning to our port in Norfolk, Virginia from a two (or three...whatever) week period operating in the Caribbean Sea, a lot of which took place in the Bermuda Triangle.

    As I stood on the flight deck with a shipmate as we tied up to the pier (pretending that someone among the several hundred onlookers actually cared that I was coming back), he commented:

He:  You know we've been operating in the Bermuda Triangle, right?
Me:  Yeah.  So?
He:  Well, you know a lot of weird things happen there, right?
Me:  Once more, so?
He:   What if we entered another dimension when we there and all the people on the pier aren't who we think they are?  They could be the exact double of our families back in the real world.
Me:  Hmmmmm...would I know?
He:  No.
Me:  Then I don't care.

    So, bottom line, Clyde may be right.  We may actually be in the Matrix.  But, hell, I can't tell the difference.  So, unless a robot comes smashing through my bedroom window, I won't care, either.

    I'll just have to keep my voice down around my toilet.

    I think it's listening to me.  Alex Jones says so.

"Excuse me, what was your savings account number again? 
Asking for a friend. 
And, by the way, would it kill you to dump some scrubbing bubbles in here and run a brush around the rim every so often?"