I looked through the stack of movies Trish has around the TV. I noticed a pattern. Al, Jimmy, and the Twins will tell you they found the pattern, but no, no. I noticed it. I’ve been very good with patterns, because I know. Because I’ve read up on Neuralpathology and my mind is a receiver and a transmitter. Think of a satellite dish. I’m reading on all frequencies at once and I’m transmitting too. People are reading me. They have receivers but not transceivers, so they want me to translate for them. But to hell with that. Nobody gets to know the secrets except me, Al, Jimmy, the Twins, and sometimes Trish when she’s smoked enough.