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On a day much like today I once stood proudly atop a mountain outside Athens, imparting cosmic knowledge unto Socrates. Telling him the way things really were and really are.

In my time, I have opened the eyes of Gautama Buddha, whispered eternal secrets into the willing ear of Mohammed within a dark cave in the midst of oil country, spent twelve long years with Jesus Christ trying to explain that whole “Do unto others” thing, and convinced Mohandis Gandhi that no one was going to listen to him if he kept dressing in tuxedos and top hats.

When I first met Mother Teresa she was nothing but a two-bit junkie slut from New Delhi giving $5 handjobs and hiking up her skirt in B movies. Ralph Waldo Emerson was an anti-environmental misanthrope who abused animals and was completely consumed by a desire for money until I showed him the light. Even Johnny Cash wore day-glo duds before he met me.

It was I and only I who did all of this, and yet what thanks do I ever get for it? I have been written out of history, banned from the Holy Books everywhere, stricken from the official record. My written words were burned in Calvinist Geneva and in Berlin circa 1933, Napoleonic troops used my books for target practice in Egypt early in the 19th Century, looters tore my holy scrolls into tiny pieces in Iraq back in 2003.

And so it has been up to this very day, when the only place you can find me is on The Paramnesia Jukebox, biding my time until the next big evolutionary movement in human history is ready to ripe for the picking. Here I must stay for the time being, trapped, serviced by succubae, and living off the blood of first born children everywhere.

This is my plight, my punishment for sharing just a little too much inside information with humanity.

So when the moon is full and the interstellar frequencies are in perfect harmony, you might catch some snippet or fragment of passing wisdom. Perhaps even something you can use and impart to others. But you must above all other things be careful with this knowledge, or else the same fate may befall you as befell me and so many of my pupils.

Until a better day comes, it is up to you to open the eyes of humanity. It is a burden that few are prepared to shoulder. But you’re not like the others, are you? You’re one of the special Chosen Ones.

I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you…