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Dix (9) TRUMP ONLY 1 0 Rank 1 of Each Suit 2 of Each Suit Aces (A) 10 100 Kings (K) 8 80 Queens (Q) 6 60 Jacks (J) 4 40 Pinochle Single Double Pinochle (J♦ Q ♠) 4 30 Bidding starts at 21-25 points total for each hand, 12 trump Order highest to lowest: A, 10, K, Q, J, 9 Point cards: A, 10, K Meld Suit Trump Non-Trump. The books in this collection are in the public domain and are free to use and reuse. By DJ Trump Cited by 30 — Donald J. Trump, Bill Zanker - pdf download free book. Think Big: Make It Happen In Business And Life Download PDF, Read Online Think Big: Make It Happen. Our online bookstore features the latest books, eBooks and audio books.

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2Illuminatus! Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson Copyright 1975 ebook ver. 1.0 3BOOK ONE VERWIRRUNG The history of the world is the history of the warfare between secret societies. -Ishmael Reed, Mumbo-Jumbo THE FIRST TRIP, OR KETHER From Dealey Plaza To Watergate ... The Purple Sage opened his mouth and moved his tongue and so spake to them and he said: The Earth quakes and the Heavens rattle; the beasts of nature flock together and the nations of men flock apart; volcanoes usher up heat while elsewhere water becomes ice and melts; and then on other days it just rains. Indeed do many things come to pass. -Lord Omar Khayaam Ravenhurst, K.S.C., 'The Book of Predications.' The Honest Book of Truth It was the year when they finally immanentized the Eschaton. On April 1, the world's great powers came closer to nuclear war than ever before, all because of an obscure island named Fernando Poo. By the time international affairs returned to their normal cold-war level, some wits were calling it the most tasteless April Fool's joke in history. I happen to know all the details about what happened, but I have no idea how to recount them in a manner that will make sense to most readers. For instance, I am not even sure who' I am, and my embarrassment on that matter makes me wonder if you will believe anything I reveal. Worse yet, I am at the moment very conscious of a squirrel-in Central Park, just off Sixty-eighth Street, in New York City-that is leaping from one tree to another, and I think that happens on the night of April 23 (or is it the morning of April 24?), but fitting the squirrel together with Fernando Poo is, for the present, beyond my powers. I beg your tolerance. There is nothing I can do to make things any easier for any of us, and you will have to accept being addressed by a disembodied voice just as I accept the compulsion to speak out even though I am painfully aware that I am talking to an invisible, perhaps nonexistent, audience. Wise men have regarded the earth as a tragedy, a farce, even an illusionist's trick; but all, if they are truly wise and not merely intellectual rapists, recognize that it is certainly some kind of stage in which we all play roles, most of us being very poorly coached and totally unrehearsed before the curtain rises. Is it too much if I ask, tentatively, that we agree to look upon it as a circus, a touring carnival wandering about the sun for a record season of four billion years and producing new monsters and miracles, hoaxes and bloody mishaps, wonders and blunders, but never quite entertaining the customers well enough to prevent them from leaving, one by one, and returning to their homes for a long and bored winter's sleep under the dust? Then, say, for a while at least, that I have found an identity as 4ringmaster; but that crown sits uneasily on my head (if I have a head) and I must warn you that the troupe is small for a universe this size and many of us have to double or triple our stints, so you can expect me back in many other guises. Indeed do many things come to pass. For instance, right now, I am not at all whimsical or humorous. I am angry. I am in Nairobi, Kenya, and my name is, if you will pardon me, Nkrumah Fubar. My skin is black (does that disturb you? it doesn't me), and I am, like most of you, midway between tribalism and technology; to be more blunt, as a Kikuyu shaman moderately adjusted to city life, I still believe in witchcraft-I haven't, yet, the folly to deny the evidence of my own senses. It is April 3 and Fernando Poo has ruined my sleep for several nights running, so I hope you will forgive me when I admit that my business at the moment is far from edifying and is nothing less than constructing dolls of the rulers of America, Russia, and China. You guessed it: I am going to stick pins in their heads every day for a month; if they won't let me sleep, I won't let them sleep. That is Justice, in a sense. In fact, the President of the United States had several severe migraines during the following weeks; but the atheistic rulers of Moscow and Peking were less susceptible to magic. They never reported a twinge. But, wait, here is another performer in our circus, and one of the most intelligent and decent in the lot-his name is unpronounceable, but you can call him Howard and he happens to have been born a dolphin. He's swimming through the ruins of Atlantis and it's April 10 already-time is moving; I'm not sure what Howard sees but it bothers him, and he decides to tell Hagbard Celine all about it. Not that I know, at this point, who Hagbard Celine is. Never mind; watch the waves roll and be glad there isn't much pollution out here yet. Look at the way the golden sun lights each wave with a glint that, curiously, sparkles into a silver sheen; and watch, watch the waves as they roll, so that it is easy to cross five hours of time in one second and find ourselves amid trees and earth, with even a few falling leaves for a touch of poetry before the horror. Where are we? Five hours away, I told you-five hours due west, to be precise, so at the same instant that Howard turns a somersault in Atlantis, Sasparilla Godzilla, a tourist from Simcoe, Ontario (she had the misfortune to be born a human being) turns a neat nosedive right here and lands unconscious on the ground. This is the outdoor extension of the Museum of Anthropology in Chapultepec Park, Mexico, D.F., and the other tourists are rather upset about the poor lady's collapse. She later said it was the heat. Much less sophisticated in important matters than Nkrumah Fubar, she didn't care to tell anybody, or even to remind herself, what had really knocked her over. Back in Simcoe, the folks always said Harry Godzilla got a sensible woman when he married Sasparilla, and it is sensible in Canada (or the United States) to hide certain truths. No, at this point I had better not call them truths. Let it stand that she either saw, or imagined she saw, a certain sinister kind of tight grin, or grimace, cross the face of the gigantic statue of Tlaloc, the rain god. Nobody from Simcoe had ever seen anything like that before; indeed do many things come to pass. And, if you think the poor lady was an unusual case, you should examine the records of psychiatrists, both institutional and private, for the rest of the month. Reports of unusual anxieties and religious manias among schizophrenics in mental hospitals skyrocketed; and ordinary men and women walked in off the street to complain about eyes watching them, hooded beings passing through locked rooms, crowned figures giving unintelligible commands, voices that claimed to be God or the Devil, a real witch's brew 5for sure. But the sane verdict was to attribute all this to the aftermath of the Fernando Poo tragedy. The phone rang at 2:30 A.M. the morning of April 24. Numbly, dumbly, mopingly, gropingly, out of the dark, I find and identify a body, a self, a task. 'Goodman,' I say into the receiver, propped up on one arm, still coming a long way back. 'Bombing and homicide,' he electrically eunuchoid voice in the transmitter tells me. I sleep naked (sorry about that), and I'm putting on my drawers and trousers as I copy the address. East Sixty-eighth Street, near the Council on Foreign Relations. 'Moving,' I say, hanging up. 'What? Is?' Rebecca mumbles from the bed. She's naked, too, and that recalls very pleasant memories of a few hours earlier. I suppose some of you will be shocked when I tell you I'm past sixty and she's only twenty-five. It doesn't make it any better that we're married, I know. This isn't a bad body, for its age, and seeing Rebecca, most of the sheets thrown aside, reminds me just how good it is. In fact, at this point I don't even remember having been the ringmaster, or what echo I retain is confused with sleep and dream. I kiss her neck, unself-con-sciously, for she is my wife and I am her husband, and even if I am an inspector on the Homicide Squad-Homicide North, to be exact-any notions about being a stranger in this body have vanished with my dreams into air. Into thin air. 'What?' Rebecca repeats, still more asleep than awake. 'Damned fool radicals again,' I say, pulling on my shirt, knowing any answer is as good as another in her half-conscious state. 'Um,' she says, satisfied, and turns over into deep sleep again. I washed my face somewhat, tired old man watching me from the mirror, and ran a brush through my hair. Just time enough to think that retirement was only a few years away and to remember a certain hypodermic needle and a day in the Catskills with my first wife, Sandra, back when they at least had clean air up there . . . socks, shoes, tie, fedora . . . and you never stop mourning, as much as I loved Rebecca I never stopped mourning Sandra. Bombing and homicide. What a meshuganah world. Do you remember when you could at least drive in New York at three in the morning without traffic jams? Those days were gone; the trucks that were banned in the daytime were all making their deliveries now. Everybody was supposed to pretend the pollution went away before dawn. Papa used to say, 'Saul, Saul, they did it to the Indians and now they're doing it to themselves. Goyische narrs.' He left Russia to escape the pogrom of 1905, but I guess he saw a lot before he got out. He seemed like a cynical old man to me then, and I seem like a cynical old man to others now. Is there any pattern or sense in any of it? The scene of the blast was one of those old office buildings with Gothic-and-gingerbread styling all over the lobby floor. In the dim light of the hour, it reminded me of the shadowy atmosphere of Charlie Chan in the Wax Museum. And a smell hit my nostrils as soon as I walked in. 6A patrolman lounging inside the door snapped to attention when he recognized me. 'Took out the seventeenth floor and part of the eighteenth,' he said. 'Also a pet shop here on the ground level. Some freak of dynamics. Nothing else is damaged down here, but every fish tank went. That's the smell.' Barney Muldoon, an old friend with the look and mannerisms of a Hollywood cop, appeared out of the shadows. A tough man, and nowhere as dumb as he liked to pretend, which was why he was head of the Bomb Squad. 'Your baby, Barney?' I asked casually. 'Looks that way. Nobody killed. The call went out to you because a clothier's dummy was burned on the eighteenth floor and the first car here thought it was a human body.' (Wait: George Dorn is screaming....) Saul's face showed no reaction to the answer-but poker players at the Fraternal Order of Police had long ago given up trying to read that inscrutible Talmudic countenance. As Barney Muldoon, I knew how I would feel if I had the chance to drop this case on another department and hurry home to a beautiful bride like Rebecca Goodman. I smiled down at Saul-his height would keep him from appointment to the Force now, but the rules were different when he was young-and I added quietly, 'There might be something in it for you, though.' The fedora ducked as Saul took out his pipe and started to fill it. All he said was, 'Oh?' 'Right now,' I went on, 'we're just notifying Missing Persons, but if what I'm afraid of is right, it'll end up on your desk after all.' He struck a match and started puffing. 'Somebody missing at this hour . . . might be found among the living ... in the morning,' he said between drags. The match went out, and shadows moved where nobody stirred. 'And he might not, in this case,' Muldoon said. 'He's been gone three days now.' 'An Irishman your size can't be any more subtle than an elephant,' Saul said wearily. 'Stop tantalizing me. What have you got?' 'The office that was hit,' Muldoon explained, obviously happy to share the misery, 'was a magazine called Confrontation. It's kind of left-of-center, so this was probably a right-wing job and not a left-wing one. But the interesting thing is that we couldn't reach the editor, Joseph Malik, at his home, and when we called one of the associate editors, what do you think he told us? Malik disappeared three days ago. His landlord confirms it. He's been trying to get hold of Malik himself because there's a no-pets rule there and the other tenants are complaining about his dogs. So, if a man drops out of sight and then his office gets bombed, I kind of think the matter might come to the attention of the Homicide Department eventually, don't you?' Saul grunted. 'Might and might not,' he said. 'I'm going home. I’ll check with Missing Persons in the morning, to see what they've got.' 7The patrolman spoke up. 'You know what bothers me most about this? The Egyptian mouth-breeders.' 'The what?' Saul asked. 'That pet shop,' the patrolman explained, pointing to the other end of the lobby. 'I looked over the damage, and they had one of the best collections of rare tropical fish in New York City. Even Egyptian mouth-breeders.' He noticed the expressions on the faces of the two detectives and added lamely, 'If you don't collect fish, you wouldn't understand. But, believe me, an Egyptian mouth-breeder is pretty hard to get these days, and they're all dead in there.' 'Mouth-breeder?' Muldoon asked incredulously. 'Yes, you see they keep their young in their mouths for a couple days after birth and they never, never swallow them. That's one of the great things about collecting fish: you get to appreciate the wonders of nature.' Muldoon and Saul looked at each other. 'It's inspiring,' Muldoon said finally, 'to have so many college graduates on the Force these days.' The elevator door opened, and Dan Pricefixer, a redheaded young detective on Muldoon's staff, emerged, carrying a metal box. 'I think this is important, Barney,' he began immediately, with just a nod to Saul. 'Damned important. I found it in the rubble, and it had been blown partly open, so I looked inside.' 'And?' Muldoon prompted. 'It's the freakiest bunch of interoffice memos I ever set eyes on. Weird as tits on a bishop.' This is going to be a long night, Saul thought suddenly, with a sinking feeling. A long night, and a heavy case. 'Want to peek?' Muldoon asked him maliciously. 'You better find a place to sit down,' Pricefixer volunteered. 'It'll take you awhile to go through them.' 'Let's use the cafeteria,' Saul suggested. 'You just have no idea,' the patrolman repeated. 'The value of an Egyptian mouth-breeder.' 'It's rough for all nationalities, man or fish,' Muldoon said in one of his rare attempts to emulate Saul's mode of speech. He and Saul turned to the cafeteria, leaving the patrolman looking vaguely distressed. 8His name is James Patrick Hennessy and he's been on the Force three years. He doesn't come back into this story at all. He had a five-year-old retarded son whom he loved helplessly; you see a thousand faces like his on the street every day and never guess how well they are carrying their tragedies . . . and George Dorn, who once wanted to shoot him, is still screaming. . . . But Barney and Saul are in the cafeteria. Look around. The transition from the Gothic lobby to this room of laminated functional and glittering plastic colors is, one might say, trippy. Never mind the smell; we're closer to the pet shop here. Saul removed his hat and ran a hand through his gray hair pensively, as Muldoon read the first two memos in one quick scan. When they were passed over, he put on his glasses and read more slowly, in his own methodical and thoughtful way. Hold onto your hats. This is what they said: ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #1 7/23 J.M.: The first reference I've found is in Violence by Jacques Ellul (Seabury Press, New York, 1969). He says (pages 18-19) that the Illuminated Ones were founded by Joachim of Floris in the llth century and originally taught a primitive Christian doctrine of poverty and equality, but later under the leadership of Fra Dolcino in the 15th century they became violent, plundered the rich and announced the imminent reign of the Spirit. 'In 1507,' he concludes, 'they were vanquished by the 'forces of order'-that is, an army commanded by the Bishop of Vercueil.' He makes no mention of any Illuminati movement in earlier centuries or in more recent times. I'll have more later today. Pat P.S. I found a little more about Joachim of Floris in the back files of the National Review, William Buckley and his cronies think Joachim is responsible for modern liberalism, socialism and communism; they've condemned him in fine theological language. He committed the heresy, they say, of 'immanentizing the Christian Eschaton.' Do you want me to look that up in a technical treatise on Thomism? I think it means bringing the end of the world closer, sort of. ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #2 7/23 J.M.: My second source was more helpful: Akron Daraul, A History of Secret Societies (Citadel Press, New York, 1961). Daraul traces the Illuminati back to the 11th century also, but not to Joachim of Floris. He sees the origin in the Ishmaelian sect of Islam, also known as the Order of Assassins. 9They were vanquished in the 13th century, but later made a comeback with a new, less-violent philosophy and eventually became the Ishmaelian sect of today, led by the Aga Khan. However, in the 16th century, in Afghanistan, the Illuminated Ones (Roshinaya) picked up the original tactics of the Order of Assassins. They were wiped out by an alliance of the Moguls and Persians (pages 220-223). But, 'The beginning of the seventeenth century saw the foundation of the Illuminated Ones of Spain-the Allumbrados, condemned by an edict of the Grand Inquisition in 1623. In 1654, the 'illuminated' Guerinets came into public notice in France.' And, finally-the part you're most interested in- the Bavarian II-luminati was founded on May Day, 1776, in Ingolstadt, Bavaria, by Adam Weishaupt, a former Jesuit. 'Documents still extant show several points of resemblance between the German and Central Asian I'himi-nists: points that are hard to account for on grounds of pure coincidence' (page 255). Weishaupt's Illuminati were suppressed by the Bavarian government in 1785; Daraul also mentions the Illuminati of Paris in the 1880s, but suggests it was simply a passing fad. He does not accept the notion that the Illuminati still exist today. This is beginning to look big. Why are we keeping the details from George? Pat Saul and Muldoon exchanged glances. 'Let's see the next one,' Saul said. He and Muldoon read together: ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #3 7/24 J.M.: The Encyclopedia Britannica has little to say on the subject (1966 edition, Volume 11, 'Halicar to Impala,' page 1094): Illuminati, a short-lived movement of republican free thought founded on May Day 1776 by Adam Weishaupt, professor of canon law at Ingolstadt and a former Jesuit. . . . From 1778 onward they began to make contact with various Masonic lodges where, under the impulse of A. Knigge (q.v.) one of their chief converts, they often managed to gain a commanding position. . . . The scheme itself had its attractions for literary men like Goethe and Herder, and even for the reigning dukes of Gotha and Weimar.... The movement suffered from internal dissention and was ultimately banned by an edict of the Bavarian government in 1785. Pat Saul paused. 'I'll make you a bet, Barney,' he said quietly. 'The Joseph Malik who vanished is the J.M. these memos were written for.' 10'Sure,' Muldoon replied scornfully. 'These Illuminati characters are still around, and they got him. Honest to God, Saul,' he added, 'I appreciate the way your mind usually pole-vaults ahead of the facts. But you can ride a hunch just so far when you're starting from nothing.' 'We're not starting from nothing,' Saul said softly. 'Here's what we've got to start with. One'-he-held up a finger-'a building is bombed. Two'-another finger- 'an important executive disappeared three days before the bombing. Already, there's an inference, or two inferences: something got him, or else he knew something was coming for him and he ducked out. Now, look at the memos. Point three'-he held up another finger-'a standard reference work, the Encyclopedia Britannica, seems to be wrong about when the Illuminati came into existence. They say eighteenth-century Germany, but the other memos trace it back to-let's see-Spain in the seventeenth century, France in the seventeenth century, then in the eleventh century back to Italy and halfway across the world to Afghanistan. So we've got a second inference: if the Britannica is wrong about when the thing started, they may be wrong about when it ended. Now, put these three points and two inferences together-' 'And the Illuminati got the editor and blew up his office. Nutz. I still say you're going too fast.' 'Maybe I'm not going fast enough,' Saul said. 'An organization that has existed for a couple of centuries minimum and kept its secrets pretty well hidden most of that time might be pretty strong by now.' He trailed off into silence, and closed his eyes to concentrate. After a moment, he looked at the younger man with a searching glance. Muldoon had been thinking too. 'I've seen men land on the moon,' he said. 'I've seen students break into administration offices and shit in the dean's waste basket. I've even seen nuns in mini-skirts. But this international conspiracy existing in secret for eight hundred years, it's like opening a door in your own house and finding James Bond and the President of the United States personally shooting it out with Fu Manchu and the five original Marx Brothers.' 'You're trying to convince yourself, not me. Barney, it sticks out so far that you could break it into three pieces and each one would be long enough to goose somebody up in the Bronx. There is a secret society that keeps screwing up international politics. Every intelligent person has suspected that at one time or another. Nobody wants war any more, but wars keep happening-why? Face it, Barney-this is the heavy case we've always had nightmares about. It's cast iron. If it were a corpse, all six pallbearers would get double hernias at the funeral. Well?' Saul prompted. 'Well, we're either going to have to do something or get off the pot, as my sainted mother used to say.' It was the year when they finally immanentized the Eschaton. On April 1 the world's great powers came closer to nuclear war than ever before, all because of an obscure island named Fernando Poo. But, while all other eyes turned to the UN building in apprehension and desperate hope, there lived in Las Vegas a unique person known as Carmel. His house was on Date Street and had a magnificent view of the desert, which he appreciated. He liked to spend long hours looking at the wild cactus wasteland 11although he did not know why. If you told him that he was symbolically turning his back upon mankind, he would not have understood you, nor would he have been insulted; the remark would be merely irrelevant to him. If you added that he himself was a desert creature, like the gila monster and the rattlesnake, he would have grown bored and classified you as a fool. To Carmel, most of the world were fools who asked meaningless questions and worried about pointless issues; only a few, like himself, had discovered what was really important-money- and pursued it without distractions, scruples, or irrelevancies. His favorite moments were those, like this night of April 1, when he sat and tallied his take for the month and looked out his picture window occasionally at the flat sandy landscape, dimly lit by the lights of the city behind him. In this physical and emotional desert he experienced happiness, or something as close to happiness as he could ever find. His girls had earned $46,000 during March, of which he took $23,000; after paying 10 percent to the Brotherhood for permission to operate without molestation by Banana-Nose Maldonado's soldiers, this left a tidy profit of $20,700, all of it tax free. Little Carmel, who stood five feet two and had the face of a mournful weasel, beamed as he completed his calculations; his emotion was as inexpressible, in normal terms, as that of a necrophile who had just broken into the town morgue. He had tried every possible sexual combination with his girls; none gave him the frisson of looking at a figure like that at the end of a month. He did not know that he would have another $5 million, and incidentally become the most important human being on earth, before May 1. If you tried to explain it to him, he would have brushed everything else aside and asked merely, 'The five million-how many throats do I hafta cut to get my hands in it?' But wait: Get out the Atlas and look up Africa. Run your eyes down the map of the western coast of that continent until you come to Equatorial Guinea. Stop at the bend where part of the Atlantic Ocean curves inward and becomes the Bight of Biafra. You will note a chain of small islands; you will further observe that one of these is Fernando Poo. There, in the capital city of Santa Isobel, during the early 1970s, Captain Ernesto Tequilla y Mota carefully read and reread Edward Luttwak's Coup d'Etat: A Practical Handbook, and placidly went about following Luttwak's formula for a perfect coup d'etat in Santa Isobel. He set up a timetable, made his first converts among other officers, formed a clique, and began the slow process of arranging things so that officers likely to be loyal to Equatorial Guinea would be on assignment at least forty-eight hours away from the capital city when the coup occurred. He drafted the first proclamation to be issued by his new government; it took the best slogans of the most powerful left-wing and right-wing groups on the island and embedded them firmly in a tapiocalike context of bland liberal-conservatism. It fit Luttwak's prescription excellently, giving everybody on the island some small hope that his own interests and beliefs would be advanced by the new regime. And, after three years of planning, he struck: the key officials of the old regime were quickly, bloodlessly, placed under house arrest; troops under the command of officers in the cabal occupied the power stations and newspaper offices; the inoffensively fascist-conservative-liberal-communist proclamation of the new People's Republic of Fernando Poo went forth to the world over the radio station in Santa Isobel. Ernesto Tequilla y Mota had achieved his ambition-promotion from captain to generalissimo in one step. Now, at last, he began wondering about how one went about governing a country. He would probably have to read a new book, and he hoped there was one as good as Luttwak's treatise on seizing a country. That was on March 14. 12On March 15, the very name of Fernando Poo was unknown to every member of the House of Representatives, every senator, every officer of the Cabinet, and all but one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. In fact, the President's first reaction, when the CIA report landed on his desk that afternoon, was to ask his secretary, 'Where the hell is Fernando Poo?' Saul took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief, conscious of his age and suddenly more tired than ever. 'I outrank you, Barney,' he began. Muldoon grinned. 'I know what's coming.' Methodically, Saul went on, 'Who, on your staff, do you think is a double agent for the CIA? 'Robinson I'm sure of, and Lehrman I suspect.' 'Both of them go. We take no chances.' 'I'll have them transferred to the Vice Squad in the morning. How about your own staff?' 'Three of them, I think, and they go, too.' 'Vice Squad'll love the increase in manpower.' Saul relit his pipe. 'One more thing. We might be hearing from the FBI.' 'We might indeed.' 'They get nothing.' 'You're really taking me way out on this one, Saul.' 'Sometimes you have to follow your hunches. This is going to be a heavy case, agreed?' 'A heavy case,' Muldoon nodded. 'Then we do it my way.' 'Let's look at the fourth memo,' Muldoon said tonelessly. They read: ILLUMINATI PROJECT: MEMO #4 7/24 J.M.: Here's a letter that appeared in Playboy a few years ago ('The Playboy Advisor,' Playboy, April, 1969, pages 62-64): 13I recently heard an old man of right-wing views-a friend of my grandparents-assert that the current wave of assassinations in America is the work of a secret society called the Illuminati. He said that the Illuminati have existed throughout history, own the international banking cartels, have all been 32nd-degree Masons and were known to lan Fleming, who portrayed them as Spectre in his James Bond books-for which the Illuminati did away with Mr. Fleming. At first all this seemed like a paranoid delusion to me. Then I read in The New Yorker that Allan Chapman, one of Jim Garrison's investigators in the New Orleans probe of the John Kennedy assassination, believes that the Illuminati really exist.... Playboy, of course, puts down the whole idea as ridiculous and gives the standard Encyclopedia Britannica story that the Illuminati went out of business in 1785. Pat Pricefixer stuck his head in the cafeteria door. 'Minute?' he asked. 'What is it?' Muldoon replied. 'Peter Jackson is out here. He's the associate editor I spoke to on the phone. He just told me something about his last meeting with Joseph Malik, the editor, before Malik disappeared.' 'Bring him in,' Muldoon said. Peter Jackson was a black man-truly black, not brown or tan. He was wearing a vest in spite of the spring weather. He was also very obviously wary of policemen. Saul noted this at once, and began thinking about how to overcome it-and at the same time he observed an increased blandness in Muldoon's features, indicating that he, too, had noted it and was prepared to take umbrage. 'Have a seat,' Saul said cordially, 'and tell us what you just told the other officer.' With the nervous ones it was sound policy to drop the policeman role at first, and try to sound like somebody else-somebody who, quite naturally, asks a lot of questions. Saul began slipping into the personality of his own family physician, which he usually used at such times. He made himself feel a stethoscope hanging about his neck. 'Well,' Jackson began in a Harvard accent, 'this is probably not important. It may be just a coincidence.' 'Most of what we hear is just unimportant coincidence,' Saul said gently. 'But it's our job to listen.' 'Everybody but the lunatic fringe has given up on this by now,' Jackson said. 'It really surprised me when Joe told me what he was getting the magazine into.' He paused and studied the two impassive faces of the detectives; finding little there, he went on reluctantly. 'It was last Friday. Joe told me he had a lead that interested him, and he was 14putting a staff writer on it. He wanted to reopen the investigation of the assassinations of Martin Luther King and the Kennedy brothers.' Saul carefully didn't look at Muldoon, and just as carefully moved his hat to cover the memos on the table. 'Excuse me a moment,' he said politely and left the cafeteria. He found a phone booth in the lobby and dialed his home. Rebecca answered after the third ring; she obviously had not gotten back to sleep after he left. 'Saul?' she asked, guessing who would be calling at this hour. 'It's going to be a long night,' Saul said. 'Oh, hell.' 'I know, baby. But this case is a son-of-a-bitch!' Rebecca sighed. 'I'm glad we had a little ball earlier this evening. Otherwise, I'd be furious.' Saul thought, suddenly, of how this conversation would sound to an outsider. A sixty-year-old man and a twenty-five-year-old wife. And if they knew she was a whore and a heroin addict when I first met her . .. 'Do you know what I'm going to do?' Rebecca lowered her voice. 'I'm going to take off my nightgown, and throw the covers to the foot of the bed, and lie here naked, thinking about you and waiting.' Saul grinned. 'A man my age shouldn't be able to respond to that, after doing what I did earlier.' 'But you did respond, didn't you?' Her voice was confident and sensual. 'I sure did. I won't be able to leave the phone booth for a couple of minutes.' She chuckled softly and said, 'I'll be waiting. . . .' 'I love you,' he said, surprised (as always) at the simple truth of it in a man his age. I won't be able to leave the phone booth at all if this keeps up, he thought. 'Listen,' he added hurriedly, 'let's change the subject before I start resorting to the vices of a high school boy. What do you know about the Illuminati?' Rebecca had been an anthropology major, with a minor in psychology, before the drug scene had captured her and she fell into the abyss from which he had rescued her; her erudition often astonished him. 'It's a hoax,' she said. 'A what?' 'A hoax. A bunch of students at Berkeley started it back around sixty-six or sixty-seven.' 'No, that's not what I'm asking. The original Illuminati in Italy and Spain and Germany in the fifteenth to eighteenth centuries? You know?' 15'Oh, that's the basis of the hoax. Some right-wing historians think the Illuminati still exist, you see, so these students opened an Illuminati chapter on the campus at Berkeley and started sending out press releases on all sorts of weird subjects, so people who want to believe in conspiracies would have some evidence to point to. That's all there is to it. Sophomore humor.' I hope so, Saul thought. 'How about the Ishmaelian sect of Islam?' 'It has twenty-three divisions, but the Aga Khan is the leader of all of them. It was founded around-oh-1090 A.D., I think, and was originally persecuted, but now it's part of the orthodox Moslem religion. It has some pretty weird doctrines. The founder, Hassan i Sabbah, taught that nothing is true and everything is permissible. He lived up to that idea-the word 'assassin' is a corruption of his name.' 'Anything else?' 'Yes, now that I think of it. Sabbah introduced marijuana to the Western world, from India. The word 'hashish' also comes from his name.' 'This is a heavy case,' Saul said, 'and now that I can walk out of the phone booth without shocking the patrol- man in the hall, I'll get back to work on it. Don't say anything that'll get me aroused again. Please.' 'I won't. I'll just lie here naked and . . .' 'Good-bye.' 'Good-bye,' she said, laughing. Saul hung up frowning. Goodman's intuition, the other detectives call it. It's not intuition; it's a way of thinking beyond and between the facts, a way of sensing wholes, of seeing that there must be a relationship between fact number one and fact number two even if no such relationship is visible yet. And I know. There is an Illuminati, whether or not those kids at Berkeley are kidding. He came out of his concentration and realized where he was. For the first time, he noticed a sticker on the door: THIS PHONE BOOTH RESERVED FOR CLARK KENT He grinned: an intellectual's kind of joke. Probably somebody on the magazine. He walked back to the cafeteria, reflecting. 'Nothing is true. Everything is permissible.' With a doctrine like that, people were capable of ... He shuddered. Images of Buchenwald and Belsen, of Jews who might have been him. . . . Peter Jackson looked up as he reentered the cafeteria. An intelligent, curious black face. Muldoon was as impassive as the faces on Mount Rushmore. 'Mad Dog, Texas, was the

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25 Reviews sorted by
hellogarry rated it
January 31, 2018 Status: c45
Other reviews by this user
People will probably think this is your typical harem cheat series. I can't deny that but this series have a charm and the MC is not some kind of lucky pervert or a gutless idiot. He is pretty likable and his background is actually pretty good. My only concern is there is no concept of 'mana' so it's actually use all skill as you want but heck I don't care I mean most series have unlimited of them anyway because of their 'cheat'. But I prefer this series having no... more>> Permalink Report
0 Likes · Like
Cryarc rated it
March 25, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c184
A completely light read, the chapters are short and the plots are simple. The MC is young and naive but luckily he's not dense and rather straightforward due to his naivety, so the romance is proceeding in fast pace it feels refreshing compared to the usual incompetent/dense MCs. Unfortunately the plots are very easy to predict and the characters are shallow so jaded readers will probably find it not satisfying. But since it's delivered daily and written in less than 5 minutes reading time for each chapters it's just fitting to... more>> Permalink Report
21 Likes · Like
udin-san rated it
January 30, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c9
It's still too early to give a solid review, so consider this sort of first impression. tl;dr, it's boring. It's not entirely bad, it's just boring because the idea isn't unique so there's nothing new to catch readers' interest. ... more>> Permalink Report
13 Likes · Like
UnknownSaint171 rated it
August 8, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c94
I don't think this deserves 4 or even 5 stars. Now hear me out first. All the tension of his, secret skill that had been built up over a long time, to only be exposed in the stupidest way. The writing is also very bad. Be honest. The Author is just milking it along the way and doesn't feel properly planned out Romance: Its just nonsensical.. She's 25-29 and he's just turned 15.. Despite the Princess having potential it just feels wasted. (She even feels the oddity of the relationship) I can't... more>> Permalink Report
10 Likes · Like
ZoorYuvonHeim rated it
September 17, 2017
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Status: c101
As of Sept 9, 2017 the TL Izzy from Junk Burst Translations has unfortunately quit, so the progression of the story past c101 won't continue until someone else picks it up. I am saddened by this because I actually enjoyed this story. Update; an aspiring TL was kind enough to pick it up for the time, its not perfect, but its good enough to read at least. ... more>> Permalink Report
6 Likes · Like
Tarlos rated it
July 21, 2017
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Status: c34
This is the kind of novel you read, and then forget about on the same day. There's nothing memorable about it. Personally I couldn't enjoy this novel at all. The MC is just way too naive and malleable. I get that some stories are all about the growth and coming of age of the protagonist, but the MC here is like a piece of soft dough that gets kneaded by everyone. He doesn't seem to have his own thoughts, just going along with whatever someone else says. It's like he's an... more>> Permalink Report
6 Likes · Like
z4raki rated it
May 16, 2017
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Status: c40
Well, this novel is so straight forward that it was surprisingly good. Our MC have ability that's not a cheat at a glance but turned to be a cheat as story goes. The plot is straight, too straight that may be I'll eventually bored of it. But for 'daily life' genre like this, it was good. *ps: the romance part of this novel is pretty straight forward. But that makes this novel refreshing. The MC is not dense, but I think he just overwhelmed and naive. Permalink Report
5 Likes · Like
Artemis1990 rated it
February 10, 2017
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Status: c18
Easiest way to explain the entire premise of the novel is an isekai novel WITHOUT the isekai part. The MC gain a 'general' skills but when he combined the two, he end up discovering a cheat level possibility with them. Fortunately, the MC has a pure and good conscience which prevents him from going the dark path despite that had he chose to, noone would be able to stop him. One way or another, his use of skills gain him attention from others (mostly female so far... but its not... more>> Permalink Report
5 Likes · Like
GregLuck rated it
September 30, 2017
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Status: c100
If you like a story that have no clear purpose / base, while the MC is totally happy-go-lucky pushover brat, then this is for you. It feels like some middle or high schooler writing about OP MC with dull plot and no clear purpose. 4 Likes · Like
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LeeEzekiel rated it
July 5, 2017
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Status: --
Well... it's very amateurish and generic. I suppose you could call it a novel good for passing the time with. Decent up until the first major 'boss' fight, but at that point his power just spikes up to a ridiculous level. It completely kills any form of escalation this novel can have. 1. Writing style - The typical JP fantasy style targeted towards middle schoolers. Think 'Don't give up!', 'I'll do my best!', 'there's no way I can let that happen to heeer!' In short, very melodramatic shouting of cliche lines.... more>> Permalink Report
4 Likes · Like
December 25, 2016
Other reviews by this user
Status: c99
This RAW is a daily release. I used Chrome browser translate feature to read ahead. The MC was bestowed the 'Appraisal-completed' and 'Cut and pasted' skills by God when he reaches the coming to age. The MC uses his skills to take away his opponents skills and abilities and give to either his companions or himself. That was the method he used to combat his opponents several levels higher than him and win. The story itself is quite refreshing and I recommended to add it to your reading list. 4 Likes · Like
Permalink Report
Sherrynity rated it
July 6, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c73
tbh, at first my thought was 'oh great another sh*tty cheat story blabla' then I read the reviews, become a bit interested until finally I decided to read it... ... which I don't regret at all. The MC is kind and honest to the core; even though the story seems flat, but it's a freaking Slice of Life so it's tolerable. I like seeing how he, casually, follows what his heart wants to do and willing to bear the consequences. Even though he seems sooo airheaded sometimes, but he knows how... more>> Permalink Report
3 Likes · Like
barashkafromro rated it
September 11, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c91
The protagonist is aggravatingly stupid, he never even thinks about pasting regeneration skill to his wives. And only pasted regeneration to his pet after it almost died. What retard would keep lifesaving passive skill constantly turned off and only turn it back on when it is almost too late already. It isn't like you will always be safe enough to have time to turn it on. During battle with orcs and Orc King he already experienced terrible consequences of not having lifesaving skill and he still doesn't use it after... more>> Permalink Report
2 Likes · Like
DaydreamGe rated it
July 29, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c94
It is an interesting story where the hero was blessed with good people around him and avoid become a dark MC. Well what is lack on this novel is the HP and MP concept, or maybe additional vitality or stamina concept. Overall the story didn't explain about stats at all. And just make the MC can use his ability unlimited when fighting and only collapse in the end of battle. The weapon have the value damage but we didn't know the damage from the MC and if you think about it, it becomes... more>> Permalink Report
2 Likes · Like
Mahiro9 rated it
July 15, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c85
This novel has every cliché templates you'll see in other similar novels while changing some bits to be a bit unique. It can be considered a good read but it also doesn't have anything special. I've seen a lot of novels like this that has a lot of potential but chose the path of mediocrity, it's not necessarily bad but it's kind of a shame. There times when I facepalm because of the direction the author is going for (in terms of common sense the MC lacks, someone said he's not stupid but... more>> Permalink Report
2 Likes · Like
February 11, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c18
I like the story so far the pace is some what slow and fight boring the MC seems dim to his true potential but still good but one major complaint. I don't get how cut and paste are not offensive skills cut is used to cut grass and disassemble? It cuts anything you see why can't it cut unmoving, unaware, or immobile/immobilized monsters? In the Second Chapter he says he can't attack first not that it can't be used. Paste sticks what you see like a dagger into it's sheath or... more>> Permalink Report
2 Likes · Like
Prolux rated it
November 27, 2016
Other reviews by this user
Status: c6
Though the first chapter may give you a feeling of the ability that he has is really weird and not very useful as well as not being what you expected. By chapter three you will understand that the ability that the MC has is much better than originally explained at it actually makes the story very interesting so far. I suggest reading it. Permalink Report
2 Likes · Like
ahuramagina rated it
July 23, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c91
The story I guess its interesting for me so its 5 Translation around 5
(because TL is a nice guy)
Its better than the other skill stealer guy because you can see that He is still a child or recently became an adult, with a good surrounding people even though his parents arent with him and he does'nt go on a rampage of 'this world is unfair and sh*t and ill use this power to destroy anyone whos blocking my way by stealing their God-given skills' He uses the skill for the... more>> 1 Likes · Like
Permalink Report
Taroprinny rated it
July 5, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c69
When I read the first chapter, I was unsure how good this novel was going to be. I was looking for something other than the generic light novel MC that I see a lot lately in these type of fantasy novels. Not some lazy, OP MC that just wants girls or a naïve ignorant OP MC where everyone falls in love with for no reason. No, this story started off as a 'light story' where details aren't explained very well, however once you get to around ch 10 the story and... more>> Permalink Report
1 Likes · Like
mechafanboy rated it
June 21, 2017
Other reviews by this user
Status: c94
I think the setup and the writing is quite predictable most of the time but there's enough variation to make it unique. The peppering of both translation notes and the author's own notes opens up a soft spot for me. There's an interesting charm early on given how most of the advancements are predictable and feel amateurish but some of the later developments rather sharply cut off access to tropes I expected to occur. Ultimately however, most of the worldbuilding is only now beginning to form and will take more... more>> Permalink Report
1 Likes · Like
falloutexile3 rated it
November 28, 2016
Other reviews by this user
Status: c94
I know this review is early but the humor I saw in ch 5 had me in stitches Spoiler Ability Roar Mu, it has both Skill and Ability. As expected its on a different level than the rabbit.
For now, I'll steal its Skill.
As for the Ability, let's steal it and paste it on the tree over there. [collapse]
I like these kinds of weak/weird growing to OP-ness step-by-step stories and look forward to seeing where it goes. EditStill reading as of ch 94, still enjoying the ride :) Permalink Report
1 Likes · Like
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Over 100 thousand people downloaded Euchre. Play now for free and have fun with this classic American trick taking card game!
Euchre is a classic trick-taking card game, similar to Spades and Hearts. It's widely played in the United States, where it's also known as Bacon, and in other English speaking countries.
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6.7K Ratings

Overall Very Decent

I play this game very frequently & it’s one of the best euchre apps available in the App Store (in my opinion). Although I play this game frequently, I am REGULARLY experiencing incredibly frustrating events. Almost every single game, one of the computers won’t follow suit and will later renege later in the round and it’s incredibly frustrating. Also, the opponent AI’s will go alone at LEAST two to three times every single game and it is immensely infuriating — especially when my AI teammate seems to ALWAYS have the IQ of a potato and has maybe gone alone once in the many months I’ve been playing the game. Overall it’s a good game for sure, but there are so many bugs that need fixed before I’m able to say this game is perfect.


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Love this game! Biggest flaw is it freezes up all the time and so we wait and wait until someone can play their card! A couple things that could be improved is we really don’t need 10 seconds to see the score each hand and people don’t need 20 seconds to make a decision . Both of those can be knocked down in half. And on a side note to the one saying partners can’t play, there are a lot of times you just have to jump in and take chances ! Several times my hand ain’t worth anything, but my partner has enough to get one point. I have called it with no trump and my partner ends up having both trump, nothing wrong with that! It’s called playing and hoping partner can help out just like any other hand. Everyone has their own mindset on what they are gonna play with what they have. It doesn’t always work out the way as planned. But... that is the game. I’d give you five ⭐️s if the seconds were lowered and technical issues were solved.

Partner doesn’t know game


I’ve tried a few different euchre games and they all have their flaws. This apps major flaw is that your partner doesn’t really know how to play, and it shocks me that the developers haven’t fixed this yet. I couldn’t tell you how many times my partner has called alone with neither of the Jacks, as well as an off suit nine or ten. They will also steal a trick after I already have it won. The two opponents clearly play off one another as if they can see all 10 of their cards at once. One will call trump with an Ace, king, nine, and their partner will happen to have both jacks. As for the ads, most of them are short, 15 seconds or less. The more often you play, the less often the ads show up. I’ve seen reviews about how this app has so many ads it causes people to delete it, which to me seems like an exaggeration. When I delete this game (which I know I will do sooner rather than later) it will be because my dumb partner caused me not to want to play, not because of the annoying ads.

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