Been working on fliers for the upcoming canvass, something I can stick up on bulletin boards and lampposts as well as leave behind if there are houses with no answer.

Contact info is easy -- just send folks to this web site. I long ago gave up on all attempts at filtering my e-mail. You would be amazed at both the volume and quality of crap that gets flung into your inbox when you have spent as long as I have in the conspiracy world. Seriously. Spam filters run shrieking in terror. At least with a form, my inbox is manageable.

But phrasing the call to action is always tricky. I try to tell people a little bit to give them context, but not so much that it tips over into a sales pitch, or makes me sound like some of those other crazies out there. Say a little bit, encourage them to come read more, and ask for help if they remember anything, however seemingly insignificant, about Holtzman in 1972.
 
Let me just state for the record that I do not give a jolly good goddamn about the World Cup, our jingoistic American Team, or yet another attempt to force our insular nation to join the rest of earth's benighted billions in watching grown men kick balls around a field as if it meant something. We are tiny blobs of carbon and water, on a tiny speck of dust spinning around in a rather dull and rocky solar system, one star among billions in our galaxy, one galaxy among billions in visible space. And we choose to waste our time watching people run around rectangles painted on grass and pointedly NOT USE the very opposable thumbs that catapulted us from the trees to the heights of soi-disant civilization?

Feh.
 
Interesting news of Kyrgyz v Uzbek violence breaking out in Kyrgyzstan. I confess to a dilettantish interest in the region, driven solely by mentions in my favorite work of conspiracy fiction.

Proverbs for paranoids, indeed.