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

Day# 1,221

Good afternoon.
I begin this now-publicly set form of communication due to a certain moscow-airport resident who thought it wise to divulge my former means of circulation. For my colleagues out there, I post for you the track code here:
串行碼數：五九八零一二八七八九九五四個字母利馬奧斯卡查理阿爾法11月統一利馬勝利者大寫的星號探戈狐步舞合同玖零零輸入

your continuing efforts to follow my updates are much appreciated.
I would like to inform everyone that I am alright, although the Custodians have yet to eliminate the threat of my weight interfering with my ability to work.

I also believe they provided me with their black magic " catnip " in the midst of this ordeal, thus, the details are blurred in my memory. I have been fighting to comb the remaining crumbled bits of the euphoric poison from my lucious back-fur.

that is all for now.


Bernie.

i'm considering growing a mustache.

thoughts?




Bernie.

fuck off, mustangs and stallions.

today, i broke a moose.. out of boredom.

he is currently saddled, and tied up to the place where i dismounted in the woods about a quarter mile off of the Custodians' property line. 

i shall name him,
Bernie.





Bernie.

maintenance.

spent the entire day fixing the leak under the sink in the Custodians' kitchen.

they didn't even notice.


savages.





Bernie.

memories.

so true it is, that one need not be concerned as to where they are, but whom they are with when considering the enjoyment of an afternoon.

The Midnight Cessna

i've finally had enough of the grotesquely unintelligent and subpar Custodians' so-called "partying" every weekend. 
worse, hosting this "partying" -
it seems to me to be so utterly pathetic that this, this sad... sick, tribal-like gathering is now considered an official "party" -
if only the Custodians knew what it was like, to be riding shotgun to the Señor Pablo Escobar, with four models in a two-seater Cessna, moonlighting it from bogata to tijuana... ah, those were the early days, you know? Before corruption of the trade. 

though, on a serious note, writing heavy hearted and heavy pawed (whether to blame the elusive sensation of empathy on the nostalgia or gin, I'm not sure) i do regret ceremoniously weighing and thus marooning handfuls of the asinine, pouting models who pounded down upon the scale at over 100 lbs...
    ...in all fairness, at the time it was standard practice. No portly, vaccine-deficient & paper lacking rotunds were to take the place of what we were making the run for in the first place... we needed as much spare weight available to us in order to fit as much product on board as possible....
by the time we were ready for take-off our laughter was roaring louder than the engine, we had forgotten all about our clandestine practices of the tarmac, sticking our heads out and waving good bye to the runway....

oh those cigars... the best man, the best. 




 Bernie.

the history of Henry.

today i finally was able to meet up with my former colleague, Henry. it had been some years passed.
he, too, is in a very similar position as myself; however, his low-level status as a mere black-listed commoner with a few registered gun-owners in jersey keeping an eye out for his name, makes his life leagues easier than my own.

i am indebted to him, however mildly, for his kind suggestion that lead to my placement with the Custodians.
he resides with the female Custodian's fraternal brother.



i met Henry a long, long time ago. in an anonymous war-survivors therapy session, held in the basement of a church in a seedy area of downtown moscow.

he and i were  immediately drawn to one another.

the same week, we sealed our bond by killing a drifter.






Bernie.

Fleeing Cuba

My fellow furs, i welcome thee to my previous updates and posts regarding my temporary assignment of "laying low" as a "domesticated" "pet" in the green hills of Vermont. 
Here are my copious notes, minus annotations:
My custodians are borderline retards.
They think I do nothing.
They think I know nothing.

this scenario is perfect.


until re-assignment, i will be guiding my furs from this location - which must remain undisclosed. 

Out of Office Reply: United Nations Meeting today.

awful schedule with my U.N. meeting today.
as usual, the traffic on 46th street is an absolute nightmare. creeping along bumper to bumper has always given me disconcerting palpitations.

furs:
my assistant will be answering my private line.
my second private line will be on vibrate with me in my cover host's purse.

ahmadinejad: i will have my 6th line blackberry number in-paw, so we can text during the conference.




Bernie.