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The Razeqi Machine

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So I’m a big fan of conspiracies. It’s not so much that I believe in conspiracy theories. Well, ok. Maybe Oswald didn’t kill Kennedy. That one I’ll give you, but as for the rest it’s hard for me stomach them.

 That’s why I’m starting a new one. In the news today I read about the Dubai Police Department buying a Lamborghini. Also, some 27-yr-old “scientist” in Iran has invented a “time machine” that allegedly looks nearly a decade into the future.  The new police cruiser is said to be used for the alleged motorhead youth of Dubai (predominantly male) racing on the desert highways outside the city. Who knew that young Emirate men considered the Dubai-Abu Dhabi highway the place to act out some strange and twisted Born To Run/You’ve Got Another Thing Coming fantasy?

 As for the time machine? Well, Ali Razeqi  claims his machine won’t physically move someone forward in time. Instead, it will bring the future to the person via “complex algorithms” (admittedly, every time I see the word algorithm I have to look it up). With Razeqi’s machine (sounds ominous), you could glance your life eight years into the future and see if your pending marriage will work, if you’ll retire early, or if Ali Razeqi is still laughing all the way to the bank with your money.

 I was talking about conspiracy theories…So what if Ali Razeqi is from the future? What if the Dubai PD’s Lamborghini purchase isn’t for chasing down unruly and upwardly mobile young Emirate thrill seekers?

What if right now there’s a flux capacitor missing in the world right now? (If a flux capacitor goes missing then the terrorists have won.) And what if it finds its way onto the Lamborghini?

Of course, there are no flux capacitors in the world. As for terrorists, I’m sure there are still plenty of them. Maybe I should see about the Razeqi Machine (yes, I’m dubbing it thus). Maybe I can look into my future, lament the lottery ticket number that wasn’t a winner five years from now, jot down the winning number, and hold onto it for…ahem…future reference. And afterward, I’ll go to Dubai where I’ll give a desert-beaten, worn-out Lamborghini a run for its money on the old Dubai-Abu Dhabi highway.

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