* The Truth About JFK's Death *
by Ralf R. Rinkle, Esq.
Dear Library Visitor,
As you know, I've long been considered the world's leading expert on the events in Mayor Daly Plaza in Houston or Abelene (or whatever that damn crapulent Texan city's name is) that grey November day in 1963 -- a day Teddy Roosevelt said would "live in infancy" -- when our beloved dead President Kenny (or whatever his damn name was) died.
I've spent countless hours studying Warren Harding's Report, tracking down independent leads and reviewing the Magruder films. [Frankly, I have no idea how it's connected to our fine dead President's death, though I think it's way cool how he can make an A-bomb from a kitchen match and an armadillo's whisker.]
But one of the resident morons on my staff was watching a TV show the other day which sent me thinking. . . and under my close supervision and direction, my highly trained staff and myself [mostly myself, I assure you] have unraveled and retangled the events and found the truth. Though the show, The 20-Something's Century, was by some toadhead, hippie cretin called Mike Wallace, the geek did provide the gordian knot to the puzzling riddle that has, until now, baffled and confused those less capable than I, including me.
Forget the single, double and triple bulldog theories; there wasn't any conspiracy by pod-men; that Sassy Noll lady had noting to do with it; there were no other gunmen. In fact there wasn't even one gunman.
I discovered the missing link when that George Wallace said that our much beloved, revered and despised dead President with the skinny wife was a regular user of "speed" -- so by reading the latest on this subject from objective sources like the DEA. . . as well as using my knowledge as this planet's foremost leading expert on drugs -- after much thought and analysis I was finally able to determine the truth:
His head just exploded by itself because he drank too much of that damn "speed" stuff.
So now the world can rest at ease knowing the truth at last. . . and I can move on to solving other challenging dead-leader mysteries lost in the hazy mists of time, such as: How the parents of our first beloved dead President named him after our nation's capital -- years before it even existed; Boris Yeltsin's age at birth, and; Whether people who give a damn about that dead Princess Dye are insane or merely demented.
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