Day 25

In response to the follow-up dribble of leads, whispers, rumblings, etc. regarding the ongoing and ceaseless fornication of the Las Vegas Shooting, the following:

1) The investigation, by express design, has been as transparent as mud since the minute the room was breached.

2) Absent serious material evidence beyond the location of the body, the only thing one can intelligently say about Paddock is that he was guilty of being found dead on the scene at the time of the breach. By whose design or purpose, including his own, is impossible to conclude, and whether or not he actually fired any shots, including the last one that went through his mind, is impossible to say, based on what's known outside the official circle.

3) We know Paddock was the only person found in the suite, but we have no idea if any others, nor who, nor how many, may have shared that suite, before, during, or after the shooting, and for up to 5-10 minutes after all shooting inside the room had ceased. I doubt by the day that such knowledge gap is either unintentional or circumstantial. I suspect, based on the preceding, that what is known is something which must be concealed, for any clowncarnucopia range of reasons, some good and prudent, and most malign and derelict, and that therefore TPTB are taking all possible measures to do exactly that.

4) All official statements have had the odor of fish and the taint of stupidity since first burped out.
"Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action." - Ian Fleming

5) Leaks fall automatically into two types: accidental/unwanted, and deliberate.
And most are of dubious reliability when one cannot know whether they were undesired vs. carefully planned and choreographed.

I detest conspiracies, and theories of same, generally because Occam's Razor leaves them on the cutting room floor, but everything about this, in the relatively brief timespan since the incident beginning at midnight the morning after, screams cover-up and blown operation, rather than a straightforward monstrous crime and investigation. Official incompetence or deliberate obfuscation by the follow-up investigation is the icing on the cake at every turn, and shows no sign of abating anytime in the foreseeable future. And looks, to everyone but the guys inside, exactly like the cow in Top Secret!, or the horse on Craig Ferguson's Late Late Show. And about as convincing as either.

Le Meuoooooooox!

Lying is always a two-fold sin, not only via the injury in telling another person or persons something you know isn't "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," but also a compounding of that transgression with an insult, by announcing with the act of telling the lie, that you think the party to whom you tell it is too stupid to detect the falsehood.

And, exactly on the witness stand or in a relationship, once you know you were lied to, you realize you can no longer depend on anything that preceeded or followed the lie. In jury instructions, this is precisely what "falsus in unum, falsus in omnium" means. Dishonesty is exactly like actual bullsh*t in that respect: there is no amount which one may safely bake into the cake if you expect other people to willingly swallow it, once they know it's there.

When it's done as brazenly and clumsily as it has been in this case, it also announces, in turn, the monumental and manifest lack of intelligence, sense, or perception on the part of those who'd tell them.

It's one thing to be told whoppers by a clever man, with the attendant stage wink, to let you know he knows you know he's lying to you; but when they are delivered flat-footed with a deer-in-the-headlights eye-glaze, you know the teller is too stupid to know how stupid he sounds telling them, and earnestly thinks you believe them, and cannot conceive how you would not.

There's a reason there are no blind eye doctors.