In 1965, I was tasked by ISIS to be a covert agent. My first assignment was to masquerade as a Jew and infiltrate a B’nai B’rith dinner. I blended in seamlessly:
My second assignment was to go undercover at a suspected mob run animal shelter in Buenos Aires..the upside was I didn’t have to shave for a week:
My first encounter with autoeroticism:
Sonja Kristina pulling off a flawless Dorian Gray in the mirror:
I ran an illegal immigration service in which I smuggled midget blondes and irrepressible drummers:
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Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
Katman,
Going undercover at a mob-run animal shelter in Buenos Aires? That’s either the plot of a Netflix series or a new level of weird in your career arc. I mean, “The Paw-father” has a nice ring to it.
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Only you could get assigned by a terror group and somehow end up at a brisket buffet in a rented banquet hall, schmoozing over kugel and matzo ball soup. I mean, infiltrating a B’nai B’rith dinner? That’s not espionage, that’s Wednesday night with better catering.
I hope you nailed the l’chaims and didn’t blow your cover when someone asked your Hebrew name and you panicked and said “Shlomo Goldbergsteinowitz.”
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Until now, Bob…I’ve never disclosed my code name. It is Falak Alimani Viper McDunough.
And clearly, you’ve never been to a 1960’s kosher dinner. More people have lost their lives eating kishka than those lining up for the newest Mercedes AMG One in Brunei and Dubai combined.
Phil
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Weird fuck, oh wait thats me. Keep it up.
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Goddamn it man! The insanity of your stream of consciousness is one of the only things that keeps us sane. Does that make sense? Good. Please don’t stop sharing.
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OK
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