The second floor was Joint Chiefs, the intelligence group, CIA, NSA, and the group that fed information to the two guys handling the football.The note...was from the CIA desk, ‘‘You need to come down here ASAP.’’I excused myself and almost ran to the elevator. At the Joint Chiefs station the CIA guys were there. On the wall screens were satellite images - the best the CIA could produce.There was a firefight going on. On the ground and in the air, there was aviation involved. I recognized aviation. That’s a base 10 logarithmic local magnitude scale that measures torsion seismometer output.” continued Debra, “My poop hatch is like a dutch oven of rotting vegetation, air biscuits, flatus, cut cheese and quief. That particular fart was a real cheek flapper of gaseous intestinal by-products. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire surrounding area has to be fumigated considering those lingering free-floating anal vapors I’ve left behind. It sounded like I stepped on a couple of huge ducks. It. More

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