existence, and there was an overwhelming temptation to remain in that

existence, and there was an overwhelming temptation to remain in that blissful limbo. Yet there was also something in me that kept saying “Don’ t give up!" It was my survival instinct speaking. But why not give up? What was there left for me? The answer came to me by the same extraterrestrial path it had come to Ike: 7e// the truth! That was the turning point of my life. And these memoirs are the tangible result of my transformation. No one shall be spared, least of all myself. Those hairless creatures told me that President John F. Kennedy had also been visited by their kind. His father, old Joe Kennedy, had gotten rich off illegal booze during Prohibition, and you can be certain that the underworld bootleggers he was tied up with were not about to dissolve their silent partnership in this huge liquor industry they had built up, simply because Prohibition had been repealed. Yet there was Joe Kennedy’ s own son, Jack—not to mention his brother Bobby—refusing to cooperate any longer in allowing organized crime to have a comeback in Cuba, and furthermore, going after organized crime in th/s country. At best this was ingratitude; at worst it was treason. But | finally understood the extraterrestrial force that had motivated young Kennedy. And so now | am ready to peel away the final layers of my poker-face mask. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015093