When After All, It Was…

Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. As most of you are already aware, my reputation in the Kennedy assassination research community is that of a firebrand, a rabble-rouser, and a source of controversy; to be honest, I wasn’t even expecting to be asked here, let alone as the keynote speaker. But the truth will out, like murder, as John Milton, the Bard of Liverpool, told us, and that’s why I, alone amongst the luminaries in this field, have been chosen to stand here before you in the Lakeside Room of the Boca Raton West Holiday Inn Express.

You could have chosen any number of other researchers, all of whom have done excellent work. I see before me Alec Kowalchuk, who proved once and for all that President Kennedy’s motorcade contained a total of seven extraterrestrial corpses, instead of the four we had been taught to believe by the so-called authorities. In the back there, over by the boiled egg tray, there’s Marjorie Helmand-Böse, who did such outstanding research into bullet trajectories and how they relate to alternate climatology in post-revolutionary Cuba. And if I were to stop talking, I’m sure we could all hear the hooting and catcalls of Rupert Van Jackson, one of the most prominent Afro-American assassination researchers, who, despite his jealous attitude towards my own work, has contributed indispensable data to what we know about the Black Panther clonebot program that is now widely accepted to have been headquartered out of a post office box once owned by David Ferrie. But out of all these, out of all my peers who have worked so tirelessly to discover the facts behind that dark day in November when America’s innocence exited the back of John F. Kennedy’s brain pan at subsonic speeds, you chose me to deliver the summational speech of this, the 49st Annual The Warren Commission Is A Bunch Of Dirty Fibbers Society Convention And Ultimate Truth Indian Buffet.

And ‘truth’ is why you chose me. It’s the truth I’ve discovered, and the truth I’m trying tirelessly to spread across the country and throughout the world. (Indeed, it was just prior to coming to the TWCAABODFScon that I concluded a highly successful tour of Finland, Bolivia, Micronesia, and Botswana; in this last country, particularly, I was very well-received even after we cleared up the initial confusion about my not being Jeff Goldblum.) It’s the truth, the ultimate, cleansing truth about the death of America’s innocentest president, so long kept from us by deceivers in government, shadow government, crrypto-government, quasi-government, and private government, that I have come here to discuss.

I know the criticisms some of you have. I’ve read your rebuttals, I’ve responded to your e-mails, I’ve strained to hear your angry bellows from across the complimentary breakfast mimosa bar, I’ve narrowly avoided being hit in the face with your flicked golf pencils. I know how much so many of you have invested in counter-theories, and frankly, no one was as shocked as I was when I finally discovered the real story about JFK. Some of you believe that I slander the man; rather, by understanding the dark thoughts that led to his final drive, I seek to truly know him. Some of you say that I let the CIA, the mob, and Lyndon Baines Johnson off the hook, when in fact I go to great pains to mention their roles as enablers and co-dependents. Some of you argue that I ignore the role that Castro played in Kennedy’s demise, despite the rigorous cataloguing I have done of his innumerable crank phone calls to the White House, pretending to be a showgirl or a pizza delivery jobber and then telling JFK he was a big sissy Mary or cruelly mocking his Massachusetts accent. And there is at least one of you who maintains I unconscionably minimize the role of Black Panther clonebots in the death of our 35th president; to that I can only respond, Rupert, wait for my next book.

But the fact is, no one can argue away the truth. No one can yell loud enough to dispel forensic evidence, ballistic testing, psychiatric profiles, eyewitness accounts, illegal phone taps, and conversations I am 99% certain were not dreams.  No one can shout down the evidence that stands before you. And after I finish, I know that even the doubters among you will join me in mourning the man and celebrating the truth, because only then can we ensure that this horrible tragedy is never repeated.

And now, I present my PowerPoint monograph, My Camelot for a Hotline: John F. Kennedy, America’s Most Shocking Suicide.


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