I always sit down to write a quick note, and then it becomes a long note. Let's see if I can make this quick:

True story. I've been reading a novel called Vitals by Greg Bear, which is a tour de paranoia about how bacteria relate to each other and to their hosts and how they could conceivably be used 1) to increase longevity, and/or 2) induce "mind control." It's a lot of fun and more than a little creepy.

A few mornings ago, I was chatting with a friend of mine named Eric. We go way back. He was pointing out to me a current paranoid theory about the September 11th plane crash at the Pentagon. The theory goes that a 757 never actually crashed into the building. (My favorite part of the site that espouses this theory is where they overlay an outline of a 757 against the Pentagon, and the outline of the plane is *much* bigger than it would be, had it been drawn to scale... but, I digress.)

The fun thing about getting caught up in such conversations is that the paranoia becomes catchy. The more you look for clues of foul play, the more likely they are to seem almost plausible. So, here we were, kvetching about conspiracy theories, and me in a paranoid mindset already because the book I've been reading is a thriller about a conspiracy. My wife comes downstairs in the middle of the conversation. "Do you know why the FBI are outside?"

"What?!?!

"Uh, Eric, I have to go."

I headed upstairs and looked out the window and, sure enough, there was a city cop and an FBI guy strolling around outside. Paulette said that they seemed to be looking for our next door neighbor. (We are in a townhouse, and are therefore *immediately* next door to our next door neighbor.) I wondered if they had eavesdropping devices in their cruiser. (My conversation with Eric had been on a cell phone.) I wondered, if they're looking for Neighbor, why they don't already know he's out of town until Tuesday. I mean, they know everything, right?

Well, the FBI drives away after a bit. BTW, here's how you can tell if a guy outside your house is an FBI guy: he wears an overcoat that says, in BIG BOLD LETTERS: FBI.

As I recounted this part of the story over dinner the next day, the first response by one of our guests was "Well, he works at [a former employer of mine in the high tech industry] and he has a Middle-Eastern sounding name. They're probably just doing a background check." Very plausible, and it puts my mind at ease. I like our neighbor, and I hope that nothing serious is afoot.

And, of course, I'm also glad that the Conspiracy isn't out to get me, after all, either.

So, what we have here thus far is nothing more than an amusing little anecdote about coincidence and paranoia. Something to chuckle about over dinner.

Until the FBI came back yesterday. And the news crews. And no, I'm not kidding. My wife called me (I was out running errands) and told me what was up. I came right home...

More on that in my next entry. I have to get the phone.