Four wooden legs & a mind of its own.

I'd be criminally remiss in not telling you about the frail wooden seat in the foyer of my current (gloriously ramshackle) guesthouse's foyer that is invested with the much-coveted power to turn all who sit on it into ranting lunatics.
Last night an American sat and expounded on the Whitehouse's suspect conduct and motives, a plethora of rote-learned facts evidencing her assertions. Launched into an argument stemming from talkback radio shows; a NASA employee rang in to declare weather manipulation a feasible coup these hypermodern days. To reveal that Hurricane Katrina was not on course to raze New Orleans two days prior. He thought something was seriously amiss about all this.
Then witness her recount her own finely-wrought theories, involving lasers shooting skywards to sculpt clouds thence usher them across continents. All five listeners excuse themselves to the bathroom and sneak out the side exit en route.
We were not laughing.
Again, earlier tonight, a 60-something Austrian with Wittgenstein's toupee spoke in hisses about his anarchist streaks, dope-dealing capital, and clandestine status as a for-hire vigilante, wherein he regularly infiltrates destitute Bangkok prisons to console the wrongly incarcerated- because that's what he does and was born to do.
The intensity in his eyes.
Both sat in that same wretched seat two nights running, you see. What if tomorrow I repose in that ominous little chair and beckon the specter to come speak through me? It's not often that I do this. You could say I'm looking for things to do.