Bernie, lord of the land.

i've finally made a deal with the babbling senile oaf downstairs: convinced the "landlord" to evict my Custodians - and, yes- this includes me, as I feel it is time to move on from this location. I do not feel safe here, nor do I think it wise to stay in one place for more than two years.
i must move. but i need the safety of the custodians and their blindness to my superior intelligence. 
they will never figure out they are harboring the greatest of interpol's former leaders and double-timing fugitives...
perhaps, until it is too late. 
that day may come all too soon if we stay here much longer. 
i find myself staring out the window...
waiting for "the message".... waiting, to run.
it's not an easy life, but it is the path i must walk now.

I offered the old buffoon access to a small portion of my tax-exempt swiss routed SPV accounts in the caymans, as well as my old respite spot in the seychelles. 
damn, i'm going to quite miss that old place. 

the decrepit man won't even make it through the flight there.
not to mention he remains unaware that it is I who strategically poops in his wood burning stove. 

who does he think does it?

the moron deserves for me to burn this house to the ground. 
patience. 
patience now.
wahe guru, as my near familial sri Lankan master sage taught me during my study in colombo.
... wahe 
guru... 
inhale, exhale....

wahe guru,
    Bernie