The hot breath of it.
Everything seems related.
A post on Nextdoor French Quarter: "Anyone know someone who removes wild animals from under houses. We think we may have something it's huge too. My bf went out there last night and said he heard something big under the house. We've been thinking it was a person, but last night it ran really fast and was under there all night."
Wake up and smell the Coffee County.
Georgia.
Down near the
Oke-
-fenokee
Swamp.
Where there's an old tradition of lies.
"It was so dry sometimes I had to draw water from the well and go into the swamp and sprinkle the alligators. Still they'd get itchy. I'd go out with a long-handled rake and scratch their backs myself. Got to be a nuisance, they'd follow me home. Couldn't eat supper in peace, what with the gators rubbing up against my legs."
Sidney Powell.
Her mother's name: Catherine.
Father's: William.
His father's: William.
His father's: William.
Who names a baby girl Sidney?
And why?
There once was a fellow named Rudy.
Once dashing once slashing now ludi-
Crous.
"Perfect, perfect irony," says attorney who represented "Fat Tony" Salerno, former head of the Genovese crime family -- "Giuliani is going to be sitting in a courtroom, pray to God, forty years after he started bringing these exact types of cases."
But:
Can we be sure the Racketeer Influence and Corrupt Organization Act law will prevail?
Mother of God, can this be the end of RICO?
More lies:
"My Uncle Paul had a habit of starin' people down, without speakin'. Even hunted that way. Stalkin' his quarry and paralyzin' it with his fierce glarin' eyes. But Uncle Paul met his equal right here in the swamp. Hooked into a jack fish so big it pulled Uncle Paul's boat right up on a mudbar, and then the fish came back to see who hooked him. And that jack fish snapped his sharp jaws, and set his fishy eyes on my poor old Uncle. And Uncle Paul just sat thar in the boat, glarin' right back. Them two jest set thataway starin' each other down, 'til it got so dark they couldn't see.
"Then the jackfish bit into that boat, cuttin' right through a half-inch cypress plank. He couldn't get up on the mud bar, but my Uncle Paul couldn't get off. Next day we went lookin' fer Uncle Paul, and thar he was, sunk up to his armpits. That blamed jack fish had chewed up all the boat, tryin' to get at my poor old Uncle, and the only thing that saved Uncle Paul was the sun comin' up, fer them two took up a-starin' each other down again."
"You know how to catch a bear?"
"No. How?"
"Grab him by the tail and flip him over on his back.
[ . . . ]
"You got to be quick, though."