Secrets, unexplained and perplexing curiosities, those and more are what make a mystery. There seems to be less and less to explore; other than our own atmosphere full of UFO’s, and space itself.
But, there are still places on this planet that have us scratching our heads, and which still continue to leave us baffled for answers, like this blog sometimes, okay—all the time.
There are people who say that our oceans and deep lakes are the last great riddles on earth. For those who would take issue with that argument, we only need reference the Loch Ness Monster, and the Bermuda Triangle.
And if you feel there are no great enigmas left to conquer on land I need only offer you Big Foot, Roswell, and Area 51?
Speaking of which, the CIA (no, not the Culinary Institute of America… silly) the real CIA, those guys in the black suits and hats, who wear dark sunglasses, that CIA… well they seem to think that the Groom Lake Area, located well within the perimeters of Area 51, is perhaps the biggest place to be nervous about on earth!
Because you see, there is another spot, one close to most any man’s heart. A place where the relics of the past, present, and maybe even the future… are stored. Its called, his mind?
Ha, are you kidding! Any woman would tell you that that expanse is surely empty, and devoid of anything of value too.
Don’t you love it when women are wrong about something? But that’s one man’s fantasy for another day.
Yet, there is even more mysterious place to be more nervous about. This place could be a garage, a storage locker, or in my case—a closet.
And there seems to be this great urgency to get at what is inside this closet of mine that I like to call… Area 61, and by any means possible—and especially by my wife.
There have even been some expeditions, mounted by a few of our more adventurous and inquisitive children, all in the hopes of exploring this great void that is beyond my double doors of doom… never to have returned.
Of course, this has saved us (my wife included) countless millions of dollars in school lunches, yearbooks, fundraisers for rolls of wrapping paper, and of course, school pictures—twice a year no less!
And yet, my wife’s insistence on getting into Area 61 still borders on obsessiveness similar to that Ufologist and their determination to unlock the secrets of that mysterious compound in the middle of the Nevada desert. I have tried to remind her of what happened to the cat when it got curious, to which she exclaimed…
“Yeah… it got lost in your closet, and never returned!” Okay, yes its true, but that’s only because our cat didn’t read the sign that said—DANGER DO NO ENTER!
I don’t know what any of them were hoping to find in my Area 61? Maybe some great lost civilization? But, is it my fault that group forgot to leave breadcrumbs?
I mean, it wasn’t as if I didn’t warn the great Minoan civilization about what might happen if the got into my H.G Wells original time machine (don’t ask, I found it at a garage sale and decided to use it to visit the Minoans. But, upon arriving back at my closet and exiting my time machine (one by one…it practically took all day to complete the exodus!) began wondering about in my closet, and became a lost civilization.
But, maybe my wife and kids were hoping they could find my cigar box full of rare baseball cards. It contains my T206 Honus Wagner baseball card (one of only 3 in existence), worth around $2.8 million. I think I left it attached to the spokes of my lime colored, banana seat, stingray bike… I know its in there somewhere.
Then again, they might have been after Spielberg’s stage prop of the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Ever since I borrowed it from Steven—and then promptly lost it in there—he’s been after my family to get it back for him. Doesn’t he think if I knew where it was… I’d go in and get it myself?
Besides, a person could get sucked into the black hole that is now my closet and never get out. That’s what happened to Jimmy Hoffa, you know. He didn’t go missing—he just got lost in there is all!
Dorothy’s Ruby Slippers, George Washington’s Wooden Teeth, one of the Moon Rocks. Yeah… those Moon Rocks—but I have the one with that Martian finger-print on it—NASA still hasn’t reported that one as missing, I wonder why?
They’re all in there though… somewhere, along with all the brains of Congress. I was doing this telepathy trick for them—the one I saw used on TV’s The Mentalist used by the character, Patrick Jane. Boy did that go bad. As soon as I realized what had happened, I chucked it into Area 61. Guess now we’ll have to elect a new Congress.