The Care and Feeding of My Paranoia

I’m convinced.

You know, the people you used to talk to on the way to the bus or the train, the guy who sold you the newspaper and the clerk at the deli where you picked up your coffee and a roll to take to the office; well, how shall I put it, they’re different.
Shhhh! Hey keep this down, but I think the Aliens have already taken over.
My paranoia is kicking in big-time.
I noticed for example that nobody I have been dealing with over all these years seems quite the same. I started noticing this about five years ago and I think I am onto something. It is all very subtle designed to confuse us.

You know how I can tell. I would say to the paper guy that the state of the world looks perilous and he would come back to me with chapter and verse, a lot of deep breathing, some wiping of his forehead and at the end we would commiserate with each other—and we would do all of this in literally a minute or two. Now, I just get a nod from the paper guy.

I noticed this in the deli, too. I would say something about the fighting in Baghdad and the clerk would barely hear me. When I used to bring this up during Vietnam, every one had an opinion.

This indicates that something is dreadfully wrong. My guess is that people have been replaced by unthinking androids or some other kind of thoughtless robotic devices that can be preprogrammed to respond to anything with the same blank looks and “thank you,” sir. This is very apparent to me and should be worrisome for anyone else who calls him or herself an American.

I notice it even where I teach school.

I bring up the idea of Iraq and the students start to look at me with blank expressions on their faces. It is clear that they know nothing of what I am talking about as if they inhabit parallel universes. Just to make sure, I corner a couple of students and asked them if they’ve heard about the latest scuttlebutt.

What I get back is a bland and noncommittal expression and silence.

Now, I know during the days of Vietnam, if I brought up a question about what was happening to ICorps in Danang I would get an explosion of points of view covering every imaginable base.

How can this be if we haven’t been programmed.

I am now starting to look very carefully at syotrangers and am very careful about the food I eat. I have mostly stopped trying to engage in conversation that veers from ‘thank you’ or ‘yes, please” in order to limit exposure to these strange emotionless creatures who now seem to inhabit our world and are everywhere.

What worries me is that it seems to be spreading. Just yesterday, I was talking to my daughter and I suddenly realized that I don’t know her anymore. She even answered my question with a non sequiter.

All I can do is warn you. I am afraid that at this stage, we are all on our own.

In any event, I hope you get this message. Keep up the good fight.

And never give up….

Les Aaron
The Hubmaster