This little guy was hanging above me while I tried to nail chicken wire over a small hole on the side of a house (which, it is hoped, will keep out the rats).

When I was in seventh grade, I had a dream.

It all came back to me just now after listening to a story on NPR about George Harrison’s friendship with one of the founders of Cirque du Soleil. Not surprisingly, it led to the Beatles’ album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” The reporter mentioned something about a “white VW Beetle that conspiracy theorists recognize from ‘Abbey Road,’ which was one of the signs that Paul McCartney had died.”

I thought I knew what my dream had been about, and my thirteen-year-old self was confused that it didn’t seem to add up. But now, fifteen years later, I’ve put the pieces together and say to you all that Paul McCartney is in fact dead and was replaced with a look alike.

In my dream, a white sixties model VW Beetle drove down onto the sands of Penfield Beach. I didn’t see a driver, but “1966″ was painted on the side in broad, black strokes. Or maybe it was “1969.” Doesn’t really matter, as you’ll soon see. Either way, I woke up with a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I was certain that my dream was about the Beatles and 1966 must have been the year John Lennon died.

I needed answers, but the information superhighway hadn’t gone public back then. So, I went to the precursor of the Internet - my mother. I asked her when John Lennon died, and if it was in 1966. She didn’t know, but it wasn’t 1966, she said.

Well, knowing what I know now about the white Beetle and Paul McCartney’s death, I believe I have the missing pieces to the puzzle. Turns out, a radio DJ in 1969 declared Paul dead. In fact, he’d been dead since 1966. The white Beetle on the Abbey Road album cover has the numbers “24,” which is how old Paul would have been had he lived in 1969 (the year that album was released). Is all this AND my dream coincidence? No flippin’ way.

Scotland wants its people to think about getting older since they are, in fact, getting older. A Web site wants to help everyone picture it a little easier by offering a free photo-aging service until June 5.

I started to worry when they didn’t send my results for two days. But now I see it’s because the photo I sent them was apparently scratched by someone’s Scottish terrier. I guess you get what you pay for.

[Listening to: Bon Jovi - Never Say Goodbye (I'm at Teahouse, so I have little say.)]

I’ll admit it: there was a time when I used to enjoy watching Pat Robertson’s 700 Club. I even called and had them send me some literature one time. They sent me a lot more than I asked for. I was in high school and didn’t know any better.

To give it some credit, I will say that the program was sometimes very encouraging. But that was then, and this is now.

I just read that Robertson on his show yesterday called for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez to stop his country from becoming “a launching pad for communist infiltration and Muslim extremism.” Are you kidding me?

Here are a few quotes from the program according to the Associated Press:

“We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability,” Robertson said Monday on the Christian Broadcast Network’s “The 700 Club.”

“We don’t need another $200 billion war to get rid of one, you know, strong-arm dictator,” he continued. “It’s a whole lot easier to have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over with.”

“You know, I don’t know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we’re trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it,” Robertson said. “It’s a whole lot cheaper than starting a war … and I don’t think any oil shipments will stop.”

Well, as long as it won’t disrupt our consumption of oil, I guess I can go along with killing another human being. I mean, it’s to stop communism, right?

first, anyone looking for a new and unique way to celebrate easter should take a look at this. i love the quote: “He was crying and asking me why the bunny was being whipped.”

so, on wednesday morning, i was the only reporter in the office. i got a call from the receptionist, who told me some guy was up front and he said he had a story for us. so i went up there to talk to him. he wanted to talk in private and we went to a conference room. he started going on and on about worker’s compensation laws and what good are they if no one obeys them? i asked him a couple times to get specific and tell me his story and he finally went into his long 12 year history of unemployment after an on-the-job injury to his lower back. for whatever reasons, 12 years later his case was closed by the workforce commission without any resolution. so now he isn’t able to get a job anywhere because no one wants to hire a guy with an unresolved injury claim.

“so i’m at the point where 24 hours a day, i’m thinking, ‘what do i do? what DO I DO?’” he said.

it was about that time that i noticed his long pinky nails, exaggerated actions and the twitch in his cheek. i wondered if he was on cocaine or something. he had taken off his blu blockers, but i couldn’t tell if anything was unusual in his eyes.

“i’ve talked to all the local media and, i don’t mean to do this to you, but you’re my last… you’re the last,” he said. “there comes a point when you get tired of talking and you have to take action. my grandfather taught me that anger is an action. now they can take away my right to due process. they can take away my right to fair and equal treatment. but they can’t take away my second amendment right.”

i think, “crap, that’s the one about guns, right?”

“i’m a former navy s.e.a.l.; i know how to kill,” he continued. “i can pull a trigger and kill someone, but my Bible tells me to love my neighbor. but how do you define a domestic enemy?”

i sat there, silent.

“i know you don’t want to say,” he said. “i’ll tell you. a domestic enemy is someone who takes away my rights as an american.”

he went on and on and on some more, and i tried to get rid of him. “well i need to run this by my editor. so give me your name and number and i’ll see what i can do,” i said. he gave me his name and number and we started walking toward the door.

“like i said, you’re my last. you can watch me get justice through the courts, or… i’ve been unemployed for 12 years, i don’t think i’m technically a disgruntled employee… but i can take you down that road if you want to watch me do that,” he said.

i’m thinking, “crap, he’s going to kill people.”

after he left, i got on the phone and called someone i know at the police station. she asked if he threatened me, and i said no, but it sounded like he might go out and hurt other people. she ran a check on his name, but couldn’t find anything. she said if he came back, give her a call.

so the receptionist just came back and said, “some man brought this by for you.” she handed me a couple pieces of paper. there’s a hand-written note on the one that was torn out of a spiral notebook:

i given who, what, why, and how. when and where will come by whomever chooses to call.

i refuse to bring shame on those americans that have and will pay the ultimate price for you and those like you. freedom isn’t free!!

life here to life eternal; no harness on my back!

in God i trust,
jack

yeah.

stapled to that is a computer printout that says:

and then he listed the local media outlets with whom he’s spoken. that’s kinda funny if you think about it. the media is supposed to contact the media for info.

at least it sounds like he’s going to starve himself instead of kill a bunch of people. in the future, i will no longer meet people who walk in with “stories.” they can leave their names and numbers.

other than that, my big news is that i am going to jump on the opportunity to see damien rice and the frames in chicago. i’m flying up there for the one night. then coming back the next morning for work. holly is kind enough to pick me up at the airport and stuff. thanks, holly.

well, we’re all getting ready to go somewhere to watch the boss’ episode of a wedding story during lunch. should be mildy entertaining.

[Listening to: The Darkness - Get Your Hands Off My Woman]