It has taken me thirty months to reach the apex of my powers of ridicule. I thus unveil my latest creation, a club. I call it:
THE NEWTONIAN PHYSICS WEIRDO BRIGADE
Our slogan: "We ridicule the asinine."
Its founding principles are these:
"Whereas that Newton guy was the biggest weirdo of them all and completely did not get how large bodies move and he probably never even saw that show on VH-1 where you get to date each other's mother, we hereby elevate Isaac Newton as our guidon in our effortless campaign to ridicule 9-11 and how those buildings blowed up and fell right down, as well as the evil machinations of its elusive spawn, The Flying Car People and The AstroGenital Brigade. Let it be known."
"Armed with three-dollar calculators, we pledge to ruin everything by popping up uninvited at cocktail parties whenever some genius television watcher weighs in on 9-11. We will wet our finger and give him a wet willy right in his ear and laugh uproariously and run away, leaving everyone to wonder whatever is so funny."
"Being unabashed weirdos, we shall dance and allow everyone to laugh at us as we impregnate their souls with our truthful essence, whether they like it or not. Then we'll make fart noises and get everyone to laugh at us some more."
"Then everyone will wake up one day and realize that it is a respectable topic of conversation, and they will discuss the 9-11 inside job as if they discovered the whole thing. And that will be OK with us, as we will have moved on to other matters, in the recognition that our job here is done. We'll return to our bread and butter, dating jokes."
"I will periodically make videos of my ex cathedra pronouncements, delivered in a grandiloquent style as befits my office of Supreme Ruler of 3-Space."
"We shall devise a two-color representation of the following thermite-cut beam and make patches to wear on our official ball caps and tote bags:"
Good thing they shipped off all that steel to China so quick. You can't have all that bothersome evidence lying around.
It's the slam dunk scoop of the century. Hey, "news"papers, watch your betters work. Oh, wait, sorry; you've got church bazaar announcements and stuff to print. You have business considerations that I just don't understand from my layman's viewpoint. Never mind. So don't waste your time googling who was on the board of directors of the security firm for the World Trade Center. It's probably just weirdo stuff.