My October Surprise Dream Ahead of the Midterms
The other night I built myself a tall pastrami sandwich, and while I was building it, drank two bottles of Squaw National beer, inhaled a quart of chocolate ice cream doused in cognac, went out on the porch, smoked a cigar, pulled a blanket over me and dozed off with my wolves.
I dreamed there was a short tunnel between Moscow and Washington. I huddled in it with one of my substack readers. He was there for verification.
We heard voices.
“At the latest by next Saturday.”
“It breaks in the Washington Post.”
“Anonymous source in the State Department.”
“Are we sure Putin’s on board?”
“Germany is promising to send him teams of engineers to straighten out his assembly lines, install AI, all that stuff.”
“Biden has been briefed. I think he understood.”
“It won’t be him. This is State department. Then he can chime in.”