This arrived in my mailbox a few moments ago.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Mon, 26 Oct 1998 14:51:12 -0500 (EST)
Subject: It's all part of *THE* Conspiracy (tm)
A conspiracy of vast proportions is underway in an
underground fortress in New Mexico. Large blocks
of Ahah are carved in the lava flows and small bits
of precious metals are shaped into nearly perfect spheres.
While this goes on, special agents of the British government
fan out in a wheat field in Surrey and begin to meticulously
bend the stems of the plants, one at a time, to form
intricate patterns in the grain.
Across town from where the second and third gunmen are interred,
a large jar spontaniously rattles, falls over, and rolls off the
shelf, crashing to the floor with such a force that shards of
glass are scattered over every surface which is not facing away
from the point of impact. The janitor is not called.
A strange silent craft hovers over a long abandoned mine shaft
in the mountains, as a mist rises over the lowlands of the Welsh
countryside. A man opens a can of coffee in Stapleton, Nebraska,
and finds a brown, aromatic granular substance. He is not alarmed.
But, of course, I don't know anything about it.