William Plumlee Posted November 7, 2004 Share Posted November 7, 2004 Hypothetical: JFK Research breeds many types of people. From the realm of 'Never, Never, land'.: I once knew a man who claimed to be a professional researcher. He believed in what he was doing and in the research he had done. He was a good man. He worked hard. But in his little world of shadows and make believe lurked real predators. My friend was like a little fish. Then one day a bigger fish, a "shark" came lurking about. The shark, in disguise, slowly swam next to him and nudged him a little, and in a short while won his confidence. My friend and the shark became good friends and soon became a 'working' team. They swam and played together for a short while. Then, unexpectedly the little fish, my friend, died and his widow was left alone with hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills to pay. All she had left was the research her lover had left her. The predator shark kept swimming; circling, smaller and smaller circles, tighter and closer to the widow. He manipulated the widow with smiles and tears and soon won her confidence. He worked the 'little fishes' project. In disguise, he soon became the lead fish in the little fishes work. It was said, "The big fish was going to help the little fishes widow pay all the medical bills". Soon the big fish, the shark, obtained another interview from the little fishes previous contact. And in time, he sold the little fishes research to a money man in a place near 'never never land', far far across the seas; From the money received from the never never land man, the big shark, paid his overdue bills, bought a brand new yacht, and a shiny new sports car. The big fish shark was finally in the big time. He played the big time, the big life of glitter. He sang crazy songs and poped pills. The widow of the little fish was left with nothing, left to fend for herself and beg off the creditors. She had nothing; nothing to sell. She could not pay the medical bills of the little fish. All she had left were her memories of a good man. Then one night, she threw up her hands. Let out a lonely cry; and threw an old torn sheet over the cracked window.., she kicked another spot of coal toward the fireplace, and went to sleep, drifting into a pleasant dream of another world; a place near a place called, " never never land". A place of of dreams and peace. Have a good one. I Hope all will sleep well tonight; in spite of the other sharks still lurking out there, hidden deep within the voids of JFK research..... Tosh Plumlee Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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